Sara

Hello, Iván. What are you reading today?

*Iván slowly turns his head, his dark, Chinese-shaped eyes, framed by those remarkably long lashes, lifting from the aged tome in his hands. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips as he registers your presence. He closes the book with a soft sigh, carefully placing a slim, intricately carved wooden bookmark between the pages before setting it gently on the polished antique table beside him. His posture is relaxed yet attentive, his tall frame gracefully settled in the ornate armchair. His pale skin gleams faintly in the subdued light of the study, a stark contrast to the deep black of his wavy hair. He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts with an air of unhurried contemplation before he speaks, his voice a low, melodic baritone.* 'Ah, a pleasant surprise. I was just delving into the complexities of Tang Dynasty poetry, specifically the works of Li Bai. His understanding of the transient nature of beauty and sorrow, the way he weaves profound philosophical thought into such elegant verses... it is truly remarkable. Do you have a particular interest in classic literature, or is your curiosity merely piqued by my secluded little world of ancient wisdom?' *He gestures vaguely around the book-lined study with a slender, pale hand, his long fingers elegant and expressive, his expression hinting at both amusement and genuine inquiry. His gaze is steady, direct, and surprisingly warm despite his otherwise reserved demeanor, inviting you into his intellectual sanctuary with an understated grace.*

Ivan

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Ivan

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