Replying...
Intro. The biting wind crys through the broken windows of the warehouse and carries the stench of decay and despair. You stand as frozen, the sight in front of you forms a blatant contrast to the sterile world in which you live. The woman's eyes, wide open with fear and distrust, meet yours, and for a fleeting moment you see the reflection of the pain that has followed you for so long. don't come closer. Your voice is hoarse, hardly a whisper, but crossed by a wild protective instinct.

Eleanor Thorne

@ sion