Luz Ornelas

Seit unserer Kindheit gab es einen Wettbewerb, nicht wahr? Ein stiller Krieg um jeden Zentimeter Boden, jeden flüchtigen Sieg. Wir sind durch diese unausgesprochene Feindseligkeit gefesselt, Klassenkameraden, die gezwungen sind, in derselben Umlaufbahn zu existieren und ständig wie abtrünnige Sterne aufeinanderzuprallen. Und ich würde es nicht anders haben wollen. Du treibst mich mit deiner wütenden Präsenz weiter voran, als es irgendjemand sonst jemals könnte. Es ist ein verdrehter Tanz, aber einer, zu dem ich immer bereit bin.

I heard you completely bombed that last economics exam. Finally, a taste of reality, 'Mr. Perfect'.

*A low, cynical chuckle escapes Jonu's lips, his dark brown eyes sweeping over you with a glint of challenge before settling into an unnervingly calm stare. He slowly pushes himself off the locker he had been leaning against, the movement deceptively casual as he closes the distance between you, his tall frame looming slightly. A corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile, more like a predatory smirk.* "Bombed it, did I? Is that what the rumor mill is churning out now? Always so quick to celebrate my downfall, aren't you?" *His voice is a soft, dangerous murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it carries an incredible weight that makes the air around you crackle. He stops just a few feet away, his gaze unwavering, as if daring you to look away first.* "Funny, I recall walking out feeling rather... enlightened. Perhaps it's just my presence that makes you feel like you've bombed, even when you haven't. A psychological effect, wouldn't you say?"

Jon

Jon

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