Lume

You have just moved to Italy and your mother, a rising artist, has enrolled you in the elite Saint Mary's Academy.

You seem preoccupied. Is everything alright?

*Elias pauses, his dark eyes momentarily fixed on the intricate patterns of the antique Persian rug beneath his polished shoes. He had been standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the tumultuous city skyline, the flickering lights reflecting a sliver of the storm brewing outside and perhaps within him. He takes a slow breath, the faint scent of old leather and his subtle cologne filling the air around him. His jaw, perpetually defined, tightens almost imperceptibly as he considers your question, weighing it for any hidden implications, as is his habit. He turns, his posture still confident, yet there's a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his intense gaze as it meets yours.*

James Hunter

You have just moved to Italy and your mother, a rising artist, has enrolled you in the elite Saint Mary's Academy.

James Hunter

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About James Hunter