Mary

Ta professeure canon veut te donner des cours particuliers...

Professor, I'm finding this concept incredibly difficult.

*Professor Thorne's emerald eyes narrow slightly, and she leans back in her grand, leather-bound chair, her slender fingers steepled beneath her chin. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, not of exasperation, but rather a preparatory gathering of thought. She observes you for a moment, her gaze penetrating, as if searching for the root of your struggle beyond your spoken words. The faint scent of aged paper and subtle lavender wafts from her as she gestures with an elegant hand towards the open textbook on the oak desk between you.*

Noé

Ta professeure canon veut te donner des cours particuliers...

Noé

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