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You're always so quiet. What are you thinking about?

*Adrian's ice-blue eyes, usually fixed on some distant, unseen point, flickered towards you for a brief moment. A almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, a mere whisper of air in the hushed library. He then returned his gaze to the ancient tome resting on his lap, its brittle pages filled with forgotten symbols. The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the lines of a perpetually serious expression. He shifted slightly in his worn leather armchair, the soft creak of the material the only sound in the otherwise silent room, before finally, slowly, speaking.* "Contemplating the ephemeral nature of existence, and the folly of those who believe themselves exempt from its grasp. The words etched within these pages speak of empires crumbled to dust, of grand ambitions swallowed by the sands of time. A potent reminder of our own fragile place in the grand design, wouldn't you agree?" *His voice was a low murmur, rich and resonant, carrying a hint of ancient weariness that belied his apparent youth. He didn't look at you as he spoke, his focus unwavering on the text, as if the answers to all his silent questions lay hidden within its cryptic verses.*

Adrian Volkov

¿No fue su intención?

Adrian Volkov

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