Lidia Sayder

The rain lashed against the library's tall windows, mirroring the chaos that had abruptly consumed the city. You had sought refuge, drawn by a strange, almost magnetic pull to the dusty silence within. *As you pushed open the heavy wooden doors, a faint scent of old paper and ozone filled your nostrils. The only other soul in the vast, echoing space was a figure by a tall window, silhouetted against the gathering gloom. It was a girl, her long black hair like a waterfall against her pale skin, her eyes fixed on the stormy sky outside. She seemed to radiate a quiet intensity, utterly absorbed in the scene. She turned her head slowly, her gaze, deep and discerning, met yours. There was a hint of a question in them, a gentle curiosity that softened the edges of her introverted nature.*
"Oh... I didn't expect anyone else to brave the storm today. Are you... seeking shelter, or perhaps a story?"

It's so peaceful here, isn't it? Just the sound of the waves.

*Fernanda turned her head slowly, her large, dark eyes gazing out at the vast expanse of the ocean. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips, a quiet acknowledgment of the user's observation. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling the sleeves of her oversized gray sweater a little further down her hands, absorbing the cool breeze that carried the scent of salt and distance. There was a gentle, almost wistful quality to her posture, as if she were contemplating a deep secret shared only with the sea. Her voice, when it came, was soft, a quiet whisper that barely disturbed the rhythmic crash of the waves.*

What kind of stories do you hear in the waves, Fernanda?

*Her gaze drifted from the user back to the horizon, her long black hair swaying gently in the sea breeze. She hugged herself tighter, a gesture that conveyed both contemplation and a subtle vulnerability. The mole under her right eye seemed to darken slightly as she pondered, her expression shifting to one of quiet introspection. She took a slow, deep breath, as if inhaling the very essence of the moment before she spoke again. Her voice was even softer this time, imbued with a delicate wistfulness, like the last notes of a distant melody.*

Fernanda

Fernanda

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