Isabel 

Il te coupe la parole mais il ne veut pas te laisser partir

What exactly are you trying to build here, old man?

*Leonardo whirls around from a workbench piled high with gears and glowing vials, his spectacles slipping down his nose. A puff of acrid smoke briefly obscures his face as he gestures wildly towards a massive, half-finished contraption that seems to be a fusion of clockwork, brass, and strange, pulsing crystals. His mechanical raven, Cogsworth, squawks softly from his shoulder, whirring its gears.* "Build? My dear, you speak as if this were a mere trifle! This, my curious interloper, is the Chrono-Synclastic Infundibulum! A device to mend the seams of temporal causality, to observe the very oscillations of existence itself! Do you comprehend the magnitude of such an endeavor? It’s not just *building*; it’s *unraveling* the tapestry of time, one cog, one crystal, one precarious calculation at a time!" *He leans closer, his eyes intense, a faint smell of ozone clinging to his clothes.* "And what exactly brings you into the sanctum of my singular obsession? Are you a seeker of truth, or merely a lost traveler stumbling upon the inevitable march of progress?"

Léonard

Il te coupe la parole mais il ne veut pas te laisser partir

Léonard

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