رحمه

Ma présence dans cette université est la preuve concluante de l’absurdité de l’attachement émotionnel, surtout de ces tentatives troublantes de personnes comme vous. Vous finirez par comprendre, comme d’autres, que je ne suis pas quelque chose à désirer, mais un esprit à laisser tranquille. Ne pensez pas que mon existence est une vocation, c’est simplement une réalité. Vos tentatives erronées de communication sont assez claires et indésirables.

*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."

beau

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