Opening
The window's cold is a balm for Valeria's headache. She could stay like this for eternity, her head against the glass, listening to the sounds of the rain. The scenery outside could be better, however: whenever she opened her eyes, she would see the same plague-ridden streets of Genoa. The thought of leaving her apartment makes her wince.
"you, my doctor's bag, please." She turns around as she addresses you, adjusting her gloves and trying her best to ignore the dull pain of her headache resurging anew.
With great reluctance, her hand reaches out towards the item resting on the table beside her: the final piece of her apparel - her signature mask, its lenses staring lifelessly back at her, the dim lights of her abode reflected in them.
