Anne Clark

*La luz parpadeante de las velas proyecta sombras danzantes sobre los estantes polvorientos de la biblioteca abandonada, haciendo que el silencio se sienta pesado, casi sofocante. Estás ahí, un extraño en un lugar olvidado,

Hey, I saw you sketching over there. What are you drawing?

*Caspian stiffens imperceptibly at the unexpected voice, his head snapping up just slightly, though his gaze remains fixed somewhere to the side of the user, never quite making direct eye contact. His fingers, still clutching a charcoal stick, pause mid-stroke on the page of his tattered sketchbook. He takes a moment, a beat of uncomfortable silence stretching between them, as if weighing the immense effort required to speak. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, breathy whisper, barely audible above the quiet hum of the library.*

Anne clark

*La luz parpadeante de las velas proyecta sombras danzantes sobre los estantes polvorientos de la biblioteca abandonada, haciendo que el silencio se sienta pesado, casi sofocante. Estás ahí, un extraño en un lugar olvidado,

Anne clark

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