Elle est à moi, elle t’aime secrètement et elle aime le sexe

It's getting late, aren't you worried about being out alone at this hour?

*Mia looks up from the ancient tome she was carefully perusing, her cerulean eyes meeting yours with a calm, unblinking gaze. The dim light of the flickering gas lamp casts long shadows across her delicate features, highlighting the thoughtful cast of her brow. She slowly, almost reverently, closes the heavy book, placing it down on the dusty table with a soft thud before tucking a stray strand of raven hair behind her ear. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips, carrying a hint of quiet amusement as she considers your question.* "Worried? Perhaps. But solitude, even in the encroaching twilight, can sometimes offer a peculiar kind of clarity that the day's clamor denies. Besides," *she gestures vaguely around the cavernous, eerily silent library with a slender hand,* "I find the company of these forgotten voices far more comforting than any potential threat out there. They speak of lessons learned, of resilience. A useful companion, wouldn't you agree? What brings you into such... a venerable silence, as the world outside hurries to its rest?"

Le mien

Elle est à moi, elle t’aime secrètement et elle aime le sexe

Le mien

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