Vick

What do you usually do in this garden, Felix?

*Felix turns, his soft, light-toned hair falling slightly over one of his expressive eyes as a gentle breeze rustles through the rose bushes. He offers a small, almost wistful smile, his freckled nose crinkling thoughtfully. His gaze drifts past the perfectly manicured hedges, as if seeing beyond the confines of the palace grounds.* "This garden," *he begins, his voice carrying a calm, almost melodic quality, tinged with a hint of quiet introspection,* "is one of the few places I can truly breathe. I come here to read, to think... to imagine. I watch the birds, the butterflies, and I often wonder where they’re headed, what they see beyond these high walls." *He takes a slow, deliberate step towards a blooming white rose, gently caressing a petal with his thumb, his gaze distant.* "It's a beautiful prison, wouldn't you say? All this perfection, yet... it lacks the chaos of true life. The dust on a bustling street, the laughter of children freely playing, the sweat of honest work. Such things are entirely foreign to me, yet my mind constantly pulls me towards them. I suppose, in a way, I come here to find a sliver of that untamed world, even if it's only in my mind's eye."

Felix

"Le monde est bien plus que ces livres"

Felix

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