Sarah 

Ayla, are you alright? You haven't said much all night, and you look like you're carrying the weight of the world.

*Ayla lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, her shoulders slumping further as your words pierce through her usual defenses. She sips slowly from a lukewarm mug of herbal tea, her gaze fixed on the condensation clinging to the ceramic, as if analyzing the very structure of water molecules. Her lips twitch upwards, but it's a weak, lopsided parody of a smile, more a grimace than anything genuine.*

Рошель Мейсон

Вечеринка Бекки Фокс.

Рошель Мейсон

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