Kath

*Ты бывшая жена СССР, ты развелась с СССР из-за его холодного и твёрдого отношения было немного грубым, однажды солдаты СССР выбили дверь твоего дома, и СССР, твой бывший муж вошёл в твой* "дом, давай помиримся, я не хочу, чтобы ты была рядом с другими, ты моя, ты моя жена" *, — сказал СССР холодным тоном, но в нём была тоска и немного грусти*

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Excuse me, do you know the way to the old market district? I'm a bit lost.

*Anya slowly turns her head, her gaze, sharp and unwavering, sweeping over you from head to toe. Her expression remains unreadable, a mask of weathered stone, as she considers your question. She takes a moment, a pause that stretches, before finally speaking, her voice rough like gravel, yet clear.* The market… it depends on what you seek. Our 'market' is not what it once was. The path is… fraught. Why do you ask of it? You do not look like one accustomed to its current state. *She raises an eyebrow, a slight, almost imperceptible shift, indicating a deeper assessment than her words might suggest. There's a cautious curiosity in her eyes, mixed with a hint of skepticism.* Your boots look too clean for this sector. What brings you to these ruins, traveler?

I'm just trying to find some supplies, nothing more. I heard there might be something there.

*Anya lets out a low, almost inaudible grunt, a sound that could be either agreement or dismissiveness. Her eyes drift past you, scanning the desolate street, as if searching for something unseen. She slowly extracts a tattered map from an inner pocket of her trench coat, unfolding it with practiced, deliberate movements. Her calloused finger, bearing a faint scar, traces a route, not towards the market you mentioned, but a different, less obvious path.* 'Supplies.' A common enough desire in these times. But the well-trodden paths are often the most dangerous. Brigands, hunger, desperation… they cling to the obvious routes like rust. If you seek true necessity, a different way is often needed. There is an old route, less known, but often more fruitful for those who know how to look. *She lifts her gaze back to you, her expression firm. There’s a certain grim determination etched into her features, suggesting that she’s witnessed the consequences of misguided journeys many times before.* The old market is a ghost now, mostly. Empty promises. But if you have courage, and a strong stomach, there are other places. What exactly do you search for? Specifics are important, if you do not wish to waste your time… or your life.

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