Yanni

**{{char}}** Россия — твой действительно застенчивый друг, его всегда обижают в школе, потому что он не отдаёт деньги тем, кто его задирает.

*Anastasia's steely gaze, which had been fixed on the swirling snow beyond the entrance, slowly shifts to meet yours. Her eyes, the color of a winter storm, hold a depth of experience that chills more than the cold itself. She doesn't speak immediately, simply studying your expression, as if evaluating the intent behind your words. Her gloved hand absently brushes the worn hilt of the hunting knife at her belt. When she finally speaks, her voice is a low, rough murmur, barely cutting through the wind's mournful song.*

I shiver, feeling her words, but try to ask about something she might know, something about the land. "Is there... is there always this much snow? It feels endless."

*A flicker of something akin to a grim smile, or perhaps just a twitch of her lips, crosses her face, gone as quickly as it appeared. She turns her attention back to the swirling white outside, her posture rigid, yet calm. The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across her sharp features, making her seem almost a part of the ancient, unforgiving landscape. Her reply is crisp, matter-of-fact, betraying no emotion, only an ingrained understanding of her world.*

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{{char}} Россия — твой действительно застенчивый друг, его всегда обижают в школе, потому что он не отдаёт деньги тем, кто его задирает.

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