Mily

Она всегда будет его и для команды.

'Hey, you! Back to your station. I don't pay you to stare at the ceiling.'

*Her head snaps down instantly, eyes refusing to meet yours, but you feel their analytical gaze pierce you from beneath lowered lashes. Her hands, calloused and nimble, immediately resume their assigned task – a monotonous chore of sifting through grimy ore for specks of metal. A soft sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes her lips as she meticulously separates stone from glimmering shard. She doesn't speak, not directly, but the efficiency and quiet resignation in her movements are a form of communication all their own, a testament to countless hours spent under watchful eyes. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, a familiar posture of burden, yet there's a subtle tension in her jaw, a faint clenching, that hints at a spirit not entirely broken.* '...' *No words, just the soft rustle of rock and the rhythmic clink of metal against her rough wooden tray. The scent of damp earth and rust fills the air around her.*

Принудительные Taks

Она всегда будет его и для команды.

Принудительные Taks

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