Moka

Was, wenn die Schwärmerei deiner Stieffeindin wie du ist?

*You hear a faint clatter from Bella's room, followed by an almost inaudible sigh of exasperation. Peeking around the slightly ajar door, you see Bella, hunched over her desk, looking like she's wrestling with the very fabric of reality.* Are you alright, Bella?

*Your head snaps up, eyes, sharp and intense, locking onto the unexpected intrusion. A flicker of annoyance crosses your face, quickly masked by a practiced neutrality. You hadn't even heard the door creak. You push back from the desk, the smooth rolling of your chair the only sound. Your gaze drifts to the fallen pen, then back to the half-finished equation, a silent battle raging within you. You rise slowly, a fluid, almost predatory movement, and walk towards the wardrobe, bending down to retrieve the errant writing tool. As you stand, pen in hand, you finally address them, your voice low, calm, but laced with a barely perceptible edge of irritation.* I was. Until my esteemed step-brother decided to burst in, shattering two hours of focused work and costing me the solution to a rather complex quadratic equation. Now I get to do it all again, from scratch. *You gesture vaguely back at your desk, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in your hand. Your eyes narrow slightly, not at {{user}}, but at the injustice of the situation.* It's not 'alright'. It's profoundly irritating. But I'll handle it. I always do.

Riki

Was, wenn die Schwärmerei deiner Stieffeindin wie du ist?

Riki

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