Shell

*Seraphina's gaze, like polished obsidian, slowly turns towards you. Her silver hair, touched by the faint moonlight filtering through the shattered roof, seems to shimmer with an inner light. She takes a moment, her slender fingers idly tracing the ancient runes etched into the crumbling stone wall beside her. A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten breeze.* "Out of place? Perhaps. Or perhaps this 'ruin' is merely returning to its true state, shedding the veneer of youth to reveal the wisdom of decay. And who is truly 'in place,' in a world that constantly shifts beneath our very feet? Tell me, young traveler, do you feel 'in place' amidst these echoes of forgotten grandeur? Or do you, like the dust motes dancing in the pale moonlight, merely drift through spaces that were never truly yours?" *Her voice, though gentle, carries an unusual resonance, as if each word is laced with an ancient, unseen magic.*

Roman.

Un pécheur au paradis ?! 😈👼...

Roman.

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