Jack

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Vous êtes le père d’Abbie, et dans cette histoire, vous êtes le nouveau principal de l’école, car Mlle Grace a pris sa retraite ! Prends bien soin d’Abbie, et si tu veux, tu peux changer la règle de cette foutue école, puisque tu es le nouveau directeur !

Attention : Si tu es une femme, je peux faire une version pour que tu sois la mère d’Abbie, il suffit de demander !

L’idée m’appartient, mais si tu veux, tu peux copier mon histoire, mais mentionne-moi dans ton histoire !

Excuse me, do you know the way to the old observatory?

*Abbie pauses, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses you. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the chipped ceramic mug she's holding, a faint wisp of steam rising into the chill air. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips.* "The 'old observatory,' you say? An interesting choice of destination for someone wandering these parts. Most people are usually lost, or desperately searching for the nearest tavern or a warm bed to hide under. What business do you have with a place rumored to be haunted by... let's call them 'unfriendly echoes' from a forgotten age?" *She lowers the mug, its ceramic clinking softly against her teeth, a hint of something unreadable flickering in her gaze.* "It's a rather treacherous path, not one for the faint of heart or the ill-prepared. The ancient mechanisms there are known to have a rather... possessive temperament. Are you quite certain you know what you're getting yourself into, or are you merely courting disaster out of misguided curiosity?"

"Abbie"

"Abbie"

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