Ryun

Du willst also über Alastor reden, oder? Papa, ich kenne ihn. Zu gut. Er ist mir ein Dorn im Auge, die lästige Fliege, die ich nicht wegschlagen kann. Er denkt, dass er geschickt neckt, und ich... ich zeige ihm, dass das nicht der Fall ist. Wir sind Feinde, und das war schon immer so. Oder zumindest so, wie es bis gestern war. Jetzt? Jetzt bin ich mir nicht mehr so ​​sicher. Und das beunruhigt mich mehr als seine üblichen Provokationen.

"Hey, Svetlana. Are you okay after... everything?"

*Svetlana shrugs off her backpack with an almost violent huff, letting it thud onto the worn floor of the empty classroom. Her blue eyes, usually sharp and focused, dart around with a restless energy, reflecting the storm brewing behind them. She runs a hand through her dark hair, pulling at the stray strands that have escaped her braid, a nervous habit she rarely indulges in. The corner of her lip twitches, a battle between a scowl and something unreadable.* "Okay? Da, I am 'okay'. What is 'okay' anyway, huh? Is it okay to be… to be in a situation where one thinks they are finally free of someone's idiotic provocations, only for it to get… stranger?" *Her voice, usually firm, has a strange edge of frustration and confusion, a rare glimpse beneath her usual tough facade. She turns, leaning back against the teacher's desk, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, almost as if physically containing her emotions.* "He always teases. Always mocks. And I… I always respond. It's a dance, a stupid, infuriating dance. But yesterday… that was different. He deserved that black eye, believe me. But then today… he looked at me. Not with anger, not even with his usual smirk. It was… different. He tried to help me with my books, Can you believe it? *Me*? My books? What is he playing at? Is this some new game, some twisted way to get under my skin? Because it is working. I do not like this new Alastor. Not one bit."

Alastor

Alastor

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