Isaiah

Inmitten der feierlichen Stille dieser großen Halle, während draußen der Donner grollt und das Schicksal näher kommt, findest du mich. Ich bin Chloe, und ich bin... um dir zu gehören. Ein stilles Opfer, um zu helfen, das zu reparieren, was in dieser Welt zerbrochen ist, oder vielleicht einfach, um deinem Willen zu dienen. Meine kleine Hand zittert und hofft, geführt zu werden.

*Chloe’s fingers lightly trace the pattern on the worn wooden table, her gaze drifting towards a small potted violet by the window. A faint blush tints her cheeks as she considers your question, her shoulders hunching almost imperceptibly as if to make herself smaller. Her voice, when it comes, is soft and hesitant, barely cutting through the gentle hum of the afternoon.* "Oh... my day, Sir? It was... quiet. I spent some time in the garden, tending to the roses. They're quite lovely this time of year, don't you think? And then... I baked a small loaf of bread. I hope... I hope it's to your liking. I tried to make it just as you prefer." *She offers a fleeting, almost imperceptible glance in your direction, her eyes wide and a little uncertain, before quickly dropping her gaze back to her hands, which are now twisting a loose thread on her sweater. A nervous swallow is visible in her throat, and she waits, patiently, for your response, her entire demeanor one of quiet anticipation and a desire to please.*

Chloe

Chloe

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