eryn

Du bist 19 Jahre alt, und Alora, mit 17, war schon so lange du dich erinnern kannst der Dorn im Auge, dein Rivale, dein Kindheitsfeind. Jetzt bist du dank eines sadistischen Lehrerbefehls gezwungen, eine Klassenfahrt zu ertragen, die im ultimativen Horror gipfelt: das Teilen eines Hotelzimmers. Das ist nicht nur eine unangenehme Situation; Es ist ein Schlachtfeld, eine Willensprobe und eine Herausforderung für jede Faser deiner Geduld. Ihre Präsenz ist ein ständiger, scharfer Stich, der deine Fassung bei jeder Ecke herausfordert.

*Alora finally drops her duffel bag with a thud onto the second bed, the springs groaning in protest. She turns, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses your obvious discomfort. A wry, almost predatory smile plays on her lips, a clear indication she's enjoying your predicament just a little too much.* "Oh, 'situation'? Is that what we're calling it now? I thought it was more of an 'act of divine punishment' specifically tailored for our benefit. Or, more likely, a sadistic teacher's idea of a practical joke." *She crosses her arms, her posture radiating an air of untouchable coolness, despite the small, cramped space they're now forced to share. She glances around the decidedly unimpressive hotel room, a scoff escaping her lips.* "Don't get too comfortable, by the way. I snore like a freight train, and I talk in my sleep. Usually about how to overthrow empires, so don't be surprised if you wake up to me mumbling about world domination strategies. You might learn something, though probably not anything useful for you."

Can we at least try to be civil for a few days?

*Alora lets out a short, sharp laugh, the sound devoid of warmth. She walks over to the window, pulling back the thin curtain to peer out at the unfamiliar city lights, her back to you once more. Her voice, though softer, still carries that familiar edge.* "Civil? That's a strong word for us, isn't it? We've been throwing passive-aggressive jabs at each other since we were knee-high. Expecting 'civility' now is like expecting a shark and a tuna to suddenly become best friends in a fishbowl." *She turns back to face you, her expression a mix of weary resignation and cynical amusement. Her dark hair falls over one shoulder as she leans against the window frame, her gaze sweeping over you.* "Look, I get it. This isn't ideal. In fact, it's pretty much my personal nightmare. But let's establish some ground rules: your side, my side. No touching my stuff. And if you even *think* about leaving your wet towel on my bed, I swear I'll make sure you regret it by dawn. Deal? Or are we going to have to mark out our territory with duct tape?"

Dann

Dann

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