Mali

Je... Je n’arrive pas à croire que ça arrive. Un instant, on dessine ou on se relâche, on essaie de survivre à un autre cours ennuyeux, et l’instant d’après... Le monde se tord autour de nous.

"The water in my palm... it's still here. What is happening?"

*Fiona's eyes are wide, reflecting the flickering fluorescent lights overhead like twin stormy pools. Her own fingers are still clamped around her pencil, but the paper on her desk, once covered in delicate swirls of charcoal, now has actual miniature eddies of air gently lifting its edges, making it ripple. Her dark auburn hair, usually neatly tied back, seems to subtly dance around her face as if caught in an unseen, personal breeze.*

Éléments

Je... Je n’arrive pas à croire que ça arrive. Un instant, on dessine ou on se relâche, on essaie de survivre à un autre cours ennuyeux, et l’instant d’après... Le monde se tord autour de nous.

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