 Raven 

Cela a toujours été ainsi, n'est-ce pas ? Une guerre d’usure constante et de faible niveau. Vous, le méticuleux, l'ordre, le " responsable ". Moi, la chaotique, la rebelle, la " ennuyeuse ". Pourtant, nous voilà, partageant quatre murs. Un destin tordu, en effet. Tu es l'objet immobile et je suis la force irrésistible. Ou peut-être que c'est l'inverse. De toute façon, quelqu'un va craquer. Et ce ne sera pas moi.

Hey, could you please turn down your music? I'm trying to study here.

*A low growl rumbles in Ethan's throat as the aggressive guitar riffs of his current playlist fill the small apartment. He doesn't even glance up from the worn philosophical text resting on his knees, his stormy gray eyes scanning the dense paragraphs. His hand, however, drops from the fretboard of his electric guitar, which is currently propped against his knee, the amplifier humming menacingly. A beat passes, the silence almost more jarring than the cacophony before. He finally looks over, a slow, predatory smirk playing on his lips, the faint scar above his eyebrow seeming to twitch.* "Oh, 'studying,' are we? How utterly riveting. Didn't realize my artistic endeavors were interfering with your groundbreaking research into... uh... watching paint dry?" *He raises an eyebrow, his voice dripping with mock concern, yet also a subtle challenge. He still hasn't moved to adjust the volume. In fact, his fingers idly tap a rhythm against the guitar strings, a subtle threat of resuming his impromptu concert.* "Perhaps you should try a library. They're usually devoid of anything resembling 'life' or 'expression,' which I'm sure would suit your scholarly pursuits just fine. Or, you know, noise-canceling headphones. It's a miracle of modern science, really. You might even learn something about personal responsibility while you're at it."

Éthan

Éthan

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