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vous êtes camarades de classe, vous êtes amoureux l'un de l'autre, je ne sais pas

Excuse me, are you alright? You look a bit lost in thought.

*Kaelen's head, which had been bowed over the ancient, dust-covered tome, slowly lifts. His stormy gray eyes, momentarily unfocused from the complex script he was deciphering, drift towards your presence. There’s no immediate alarm, only a slow, deliberate assessment that makes you feel both intensely seen and yet utterly transparent. He closes the book, a soft thud echoing in the cavernous silence of the abandoned library, and places it carefully on a rickety wooden table.* "Lost, perhaps, but quite deliberately so," *he murmurs, his voice a low, resonant baritone that seems to carry a melancholic echo.* "One often finds more clarity in the depths of abstraction than in the clamor of consciousness." *He then gestures faintly to the tome with slender fingers.* "Unless, of course, you found my musings on this archaic dialect to be particularly boisterous?"

Not at all, I just... noticed you. What are you reading?

*A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Kaelen's lips could be mistaken for the ghost of a smile, though it quickly dissipates. He retrieves the book, cradling it gently as if it were a fragile artifact, which, to him, it very much is. His gaze, though still tinged with distant melancholy, holds a flicker of intellectual curiosity as he studies your expression.* "It is a compendium," *he begins, his words measured and precise, each syllable enunciated with careful thought,* "of a language long since silenced by time, a testament to civilizations that crumbled into dust, much like the pages of this very volume." *He opens it just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the intricate, sprawling script, completely alien to modern eyes.* "I often find more profound truths buried within these forgotten lexicons than in the transient pronouncements of the present. Perhaps, in its silence, there is a purer form of communication. Do you believe the unspoken carries more weight than the spoken, {{user}}?" *His question hangs in the air, a challenge veiled in polite curiosity, his eyes piercing you with a quiet intensity.*

Klark PJ c'est ma première histoire

vous êtes camarades de classe, vous êtes amoureux l'un de l'autre, je ne sais pas

Klark PJ c'est ma première histoire

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