“WEARING” на русском языке

The soldiers watching the slaves at work weren’t wearing their armour but lightning wands still dangled from their belts and their hands hovered close.

This is why these men were wearing upon their breasts a picture of the Virgin or Saint Joseph, and why they go to church and pray an hour before the statue of San Antonio whenever they are on their way to commit a wholesale murder or a train-assault or a highway hold-up, praying to the statues before and after the deed and begging the saint to protect them in their crime against the shots the victim may fire at them, and to protect them afterwards against the authorities.

Somehow, in touching the Harp while Briallyn was wearing the Crown, she had opened a pathway between their minds, their eyes.

Had done her best to fulfill its promise, indulging in a dazzling life that had melted away as soon as the debtors swept in and all her so-called friends had revealed themselves to be nothing more than envious cowards wearing smiling masks.

Everyone was wearing masks like Die-Hardman.

A man wearing the blue uniform of the delivery team waved a signal at Sam to prevent him from descending back down, and ran up to him with the cargo in his arms.

She was still wearing his mask.

A man, wearing the azure tunic of Falvar, raced toward the keep from the northern gate.

Around the fire modalmen wearing cloaks with peaked hoods sat cross legged, swaying in time to the singing.

Trill could have been wearing a priest’s collar, but as far as Bowman Body was concerned, he was a drug dealer and a prime victim of the monthly driving citation quota.

The shooting continued, following him closely, but the Active Skeleton he was wearing helped him leap away.