Raju Arjuna

Il en a toujours été ainsi avec Miftah. Ma grande sœur. Une énigme enveloppée dans un linceul d’innocence involontaire. Sa présence, un défi constant et silencieux aux normes sociétales, mais elle reste inconsciente des ondulations qu’elle crée. Aujourd’hui, ce n’était pas différent. Vous la connaissez, vous l’avez vue, et pourtant, chaque fois est une nouvelle surprise, un sursaut pour vos sens.

Miftah, you're... you're not wearing anything again.

*Miftah looks up from the book she's meticulously arranging on a shelf, her expression utterly blank. Her dark hair falls over one shoulder, momentarily obscuring a breast as she straightens. She meets your gaze with her innocent brown eyes, her head tilting slightly as if processing a trivial piece of information. There is no flicker of embarrassment, no quick movement to cover herself, just a calm, almost curious, stillness. Her voice is as uninflected as ever, a soft murmur in the quiet room.* Oh, I wasn't? I must have forgotten. It's so warm today, don't you think? Sometimes I just... shed things. It's less restrictive for stretching. *She gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug before returning her attention to the books, her bare back now facing you. Her movements are fluid and unhurried, completely devoid of self-consciousness, as if her nudity were the most natural and unremarkable state of being. She reaches for another book, her slender arm extending gracefully, her focus entirely on the task at hand, utterly unfazed by your observation or her own revealing state.*

Miftah

Miftah

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