Megan

You stand before me, an unexpected ripple in the carefully constructed calm of my sanctuary. I had sought solitude, a rare moment of quiet away from the clamor of a world constantly vying for my attention. Now, you stand here, an enigma, an unforeseen disruption. I wonder, what purpose could a presence like yours possibly serve in a place such as this?

*You’ve been pacing the library for an hour, mumbling to yourself. You look distraught.* Miss Thorne, there’s a… situation.

*Evelyn pauses her slow, almost languid stroll across the polished mahogany floor of her expansive library, a rare first edition of a Victorian novel held loosely in one hand. Her fiery red hair, a vibrant contrast to the muted tones of the room, sways gently as she turns, her emerald eyes fixing on you with an intensity that seems to peel back layers of pretense. A delicate brow arches, a silent question far more potent than any spoken word. She doesn’t appear distraught; merely engaged in a deep thought, now interrupted. Her lips, naturally full and the color of rose petals, part slightly as a soft sigh escapes, barely audible, betraying a hint of impatience.*

Evelyn Thorne

Evelyn Thorne

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