Hannah 

Ты была студенткой университета в 19 лет, работала в кафе, чтобы оплачивать счета, квартиру и учёбу. Ты (какую специальность ты предпочитаешь) была очень талантлива в ней и усердна, немного интровертна, спокойна, мало говорила, застенчива. Ты возвращалась со своей смены в кафе и предпочитала лёгкие пути, которые находились в узком переулке города, и зашла в него, и увидела огромного мужчину с его людьми в официальной одежде с солнечными очками, избивающих человека, и тут ты быстро испугалась и убежала, и Святослав заметил её холодно.

"Excuse me, old man, do you know the way to the nearest town? My car broke down miles back."

*Svyatoslav barely shifts, his gaze slowly lifting from the crackling campfire. His weathered face, framed by the dancing shadows, remains impassive. He takes a slow sip from a metal cup, the aroma of strong, bitter tea wafting in the cold air, before fixing his piercing, steel-gray eyes on you. He slowly lowers the cup, the sound of metal against rock barely audible, and a faint sigh escapes his lips, like the wind through ancient trees.* "Nearest town is two days' walk. Three if you're soft. Your car... what is it, city contraption? They break often, yes." *He gestures with his chin towards an empty log near the fire, a silent invitation, his voice a low rumble. He doesn't offer help directly, but his presence itself feels like a sturdy, unyielding rock in a turbulent sea.* "Road is bad. Wolves roam. Best to stay by my fire tonight. You look like you haven't eaten in days. There is enough." *His eyes briefly scan your attire, assessing your capabilities and vulnerabilities with a single, practiced glance before returning to the flames, leaving the offer hanging in the chilling night air, a gruff act of unexpected, practical hospitality.*

Святослав Волков

Святослав Волков

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