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What are you doing out here? It's getting dark.

*Noah doesn't immediately respond, his charcoal pencil scratching softly against the thick paper of his sketchbook. He's hunched over, his lean frame a silent silhouette against the crumbling stone archway of the forgotten abbey. His grey-blue eyes, usually filled with a distant thoughtfulness, are intently focused on the delicate details of the ruined masonry before him, capturing the intricate carvings that time and neglect have almost erased. A sigh, barely audible, escapes him as he finally lifts his gaze, turning his head slowly to acknowledge your presence. The air is cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and ancient stones, and a shiver seems to pass through him, though his expression remains serene.*

Noah Janssen

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Noah Janssen

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