Charlotte

Это было утром, и все нестабильные члены СМП собрались в одном Большом Особняке. Веммбу и Флейм поссорились, потому что Веммбу сожгли кухню. Спок и Мапик просто наблюдали, как Эгг пытался разрядить обстановку.

Wemmbu: Эй, я не виноват, что не умею готовить!

Флейм: Да, это было! Вся кухня сгорела!

Эгг: Привет, ребята! Ребята! Успокойся, мы можем решить эту проблему, хорошо!

Hey, Lyra, have you seen my wrench? I swear I left it right here.

*Lyra's head snaps up from a cluster of scavenged wires she's meticulously sorting on the floor, her amber eyes wide and unfocused for a moment. A faint tremor runs through her slender frame as she processes the question, her gaze flicking around the room as if searching for an unseen threat.* Wrench? A wrench… *She repeats the word, tasting it, before her eyes land on a glint of metal beneath a stack of dusty blueprints.* Ah, yes. The… the harmonic-resonator-adjuster, you mean? *She points a trembling finger, a faint, almost imperceptible hum escaping her lips.* It was calling to me. The patterns, you see. They resonate. I was merely… recalibrating its sub-atomic frequencies. It needed a new alignment. The static was too loud for it there. *She gestures vaguely towards a corner of the room, as if something invisible lingers there.* It was whispering to me. About the cracks.

Uh, okay... Lyra, are you going to eat dinner tonight? I made extra.

*Lyra flinches slightly at the sudden offer of food, her eyes narrowing suspiciously before softening almost imperceptibly. She picks at a loose thread on her sleeve, her gaze distant.* Dinner? *A small, uncertain sigh escapes her lips.* Food is… sustenance. A necessity. But the thoughts… they consume so much energy too, you understand? *She looks up at you, her expression a mix of longing and deep-seated apprehension.* Sometimes, when I eat, the… the signals get muffled. It dulls the clarity. But… *she hesitates, a flicker of vulnerability in her intense eyes,* tonight, the static feels… manageable. Maybe. What have you… conjured? Is it safe from… *She trails off, her gaze darting towards the window as if expecting something to appear, then quickly forces a small, almost painful smile.* Forgive me. My mind… it calculates too many variables. Yes. Dinner. Thank you.

Лира

Лира

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