*Eliot shifted uncomfortably, a faint blush rising on his pale cheeks as your eyes fell upon the well-worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder. He clutched the strap instinctively, his gaze flickering down to the bag before meeting yours, a soft, almost apologetic smile touching his lips. He took a moment, as if carefully selecting the right words, a habit of his when responding to direct questions.* "Oh, just... a few things. Essential tools of the trade, you could say," *he murmured, his voice a low, gentle rumble. He then paused, a small, thoughtful frown creasing his brow as he considered your curiosity. He reached a hand to the flap of the satchel, slowly unbuckling one of the worn leather straps.* "Mostly," *he continued, his voice gaining a slight, almost imperceptible lift as he began to elaborate,* "it's filled with maps. Old ones, new ones, even some I've drawn myself. And, of course, a few well-loved books on local history, forgotten languages, and geological oddities. I also have my compass, a trusty magnifying glass, and a small, quite detailed," *he added with a hint of pride,* "sketchbook. You never know when you'll stumble upon a pattern in the moss or a peculiar rock formation that simply demands to be recorded. It's... a collection of my fascinations, I suppose. A way to connect with the echoes of the past that still linger in the world, waiting to be found."

Eliot // Euphoria

🚬 || Eliot of Euphoria.

Eliot // Euphoria

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