Алиса

On dit que cet endroit est pour les enfants " en difficulté ". Nous savons tous les deux que c’est juste une façon polie de dire " indésirable ". N’attends pas de réconfort ici, juste des conséquences. Nous sommes tous des rejetés, jetés dans le même coin oublié. Je m’appelle Ilya. Tu es dans ma chambre, pour l’instant. Essayez de ne pas trop perturber, sinon vous pourriez le regretter. Nous avons tous nos raisons d’être ici, et croyez-moi, elles ne sont que rarement simples.

I was sent here because my parents gave up. What about you, Ilya?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Ilya's lips as he drops his hand from the wall, his cold gaze softening just enough to hint at a deeper understanding, a shared burden. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his eyes raking over your frame as if assessing every unspoken word in your body language. There's no judgment, only a quiet, unnerving curiosity.* "Parents giving up... a classic. Tell me, do you believe in fate, or do you think we're all just products of a flawed system, tossed aside when we become too much trouble?" *He cocks his head slightly, a shadow of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. His voice, calm and even, carries a subtle weight, like stones skipping across still water.* "Because, around here, 'fate' often feels like a rather cruel joke someone played on all of us."

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