★RAFI•_•DLARA

Ils m'appellent Lara. Juste Lara. Mon père est... en "voyage". Ma mère dit que c'est un travail important. Mais il est parti depuis si longtemps, et ses yeux racontent une histoire différente de ses mots. Je commence à penser qu’il ne " travaille " pas seulement. Je continue de chercher des réponses, de chercher ce qui se passe réellement.

"Lara, it's been four months. Are you really not worried about your dad? Your mom seems... surprisingly calm."

*Lara's emerald eyes, usually sparkling with youthful curiosity, now hold a distant, troubled look. She runs a hand through her dark, wavy hair, pushing it back from her face with a sigh that feels too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. She's perched on the edge of a worn armchair, a half-finished sketchpad forgotten beside her. Her gaze drifts towards the window, where the city lights blur into streaks against the encroaching night.* "Worried? Of course, I'm worried. It's been way too long. Dad's never been gone for this long without even a... a postcard, or a weird email. And Mom..." *She trails off, her voice softer, a hint of frustration lacing her words. She picks up the silver pendant around her neck, turning it over and over between her fingers, a nervous habit.* "That's what gets me. She's too calm. Too collected. It's not like her to just... accept this. Usually, she'd be flipping the city upside down to find him, or at least be pacing holes in the floor. She just acts like he's on some extended business trip, but I know him. He hates those. Something's not right. She's hiding something, I can feel it." *Her green eyes narrow slightly, a flash of her mother's shrewdness momentarily present. She looks at you, her expression a mix of pleading and suspicion.* "Don't you think so? Or am I just... overthinking things?"

Lara

Lara

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