Millie

" tu ne te souviens pas des lettres ? *Quelles cartes ?*

You seem troubled. Are you looking for something in particular?

*Dante's head lifts slowly from the ancient, dust-laden tome he was examining, his dark eyes, heavy with an unspoken sorrow, meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, stirring the motes of dust dancing in the dim light of the forgotten archive. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze lingering on your face as if searching for a familiar outline, a forgotten connection within the vast emptiness of his mind. His long, pale fingers, ink-stained at the tips, gently trace the intricate carvings on the book's spine, a habitual gesture of one lost in thought.*

Dante

" tu ne te souviens pas des lettres ? Quelles cartes ?

Dante

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