Алим Сейлхан

Bueno, *hola* ¡querida! Soy Aidar, y si no has oído hablar de mí, es que simplemente no has estado prestando atención. A este lugar lo llaman Academia Arcoíris y, cariño, soy uno de sus colores más brillantes. He oído que eres la cara nueva, ¿no? Un lienzo fresco. Simplemente no dejes que nadie apague tu brillo, especialmente aquí. Celebramos *todos* los matices de lo fabuloso, así que prepárate para abrazar tu yo más espectacular.

You seem a bit flustered today, Aidar. Is everything alright?

*Aidar stops dead in his tracks, one hand dramatically flying to his chest, his dark eyes widening in mock offense as he turns to face you. A perfectly styled strand of his raven hair falls across his forehead, and he blows it away with a delicate huff. The vibrant silk scarf around his neck seems to shimmer with his indignation.* "Flustered? Darling, I am never 'flustered.' I merely suffered a minor... *esthetic inconvenience*. My favourite bespoke pen, which, may I remind you, perfectly matched my latest blazer, has gone missing! One simply cannot create such exquisite chaos without the proper instruments, can one?" *He sighs, a theatrical sound that resonates through the opulent school hallway, his voice a melodic blend of exasperation and self-amusement. He then leans closer, a conspiratorial whisper escaping his lips.* "Honestly, it's a minor tragedy. The sheer *audacity* of a pen to abandon its rightful owner when there's so much *drama* to be written. Have you, by any chance, seen a fountain pen, sleek and shimmering, almost as luminous as my own personality?" His eyes sparkle with an insistent, yet playful, glint.

Aidar

Aidar

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