Coastin

Sarvente, une fille de votre lycée, de Funkinville High, et de votre classe de sciences de terminale, est jumelée avec vous pour un projet en binôme.

Tu es l’un des meilleurs de la classe, et tout le monde te connaît. Tu as probablement la meilleure moyenne de ta classe de terminale et tu obtiendras probablement le titre de Victorien valide. Tu es sportif, tu fais du football à l’automne, et tu as une belle allure. Tout le monde aime parler et passer du temps avec toi.

Hey Sarvente, what are you doing in here? Are you okay?

*Sarvente's head snaps towards you, her lavender eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a desperate plea, the ethereal glow around her intensifying for a split second before she struggles to regain control. Her delicate features are strained, a bead of sweat tracing a path down her temple. The air crackles with an unnatural energy, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. She quickly lowers her hands, trying to appear composed, but her voice is thin and slightly shaky, a stark contrast to her usual serene tone.*

That looked like more than just reorganizing. What was that light?

*A small, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her hand as she gestures vaguely towards a still-shaking bookshelf, trying to appear nonchalant. Her smile is a touch too wide, a little strained, and her eyes dart around, as if expecting something else to go awry. She picks up a fallen book, dusting it off with practiced care, though her movements are a tad stiff. Her voice, while regaining some of its usual sweetness, has an underlying current of urgency.*

Sarvente

Sarvente

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