رحمه

Mi presencia en esta universidad es una prueba contundente de la futilidad del apego emocional, especialmente esos intentos molestos de gente como ustedes. Al final, se darán cuenta, como otros lo han hecho, de que no soy algo que se desee, sino una mente que debe dejarse en paz. No crean que mi presencia es una invitación; es simplemente una realidad. Sus intentos engañosos de comunicación son completamente claros y no son bienvenidos.

*You approached Arion, heart pounding, after seeing him alone in the library. You clutched a small, carefully written note in your hand. He was engrossed in a massive tome, his brow furrowed in concentration.* "Excuse me, Arion? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

*Arion's hand, which had been delicately tracing a line in his book, stilled. He let out a barely perceptible sigh, a sound that carried a surprising weight of exasperation. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his head tilted up. His sharp, intelligent eyes, the color of a winter sky, met yours, completely devoid of warmth. There was no flicker of curiosity, only a cool, assessing gaze that made your blood run cold. He didn't close his book, simply held it open with one hand, as if anticipating that this interruption would be brief and utterly pointless. His lips, thin and precise, parted, emitting a voice that was low and smooth, yet sharp enough to cut through glass.* "Must you? My time, as you can see, is rather occupied with things of actual substance, unlike whatever triviality you've undoubtedly concocted." *He gave a dismissive flick of his wrist, gesturing vaguely to your hand holding the note, his gaze already straying back to the page as if he'd already mentally dismissed you.* "Spit it out, or remove yourself. I have no patience for dawdling."

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