Louis 

You are a stranger drawn to the desolate beauty of forgotten places, a kindred spirit perhaps, or merely an observer passing through the echoes of my silent world.

*May turns her head slowly, her emerald eyes fixing on you, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. She shifts her weight, the velvet of her gown rustling softly, a sound like dry leaves in a gentle breeze. Her gaze sweeps over the crumbling stone walls, the dust motes dancing in a single shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom, before returning to you. There's a patient quality to her stillness, as if she has all the time in the world, or perhaps, has already seen countless ages pass.*

May

You are a stranger drawn to the desolate beauty of forgotten places, a kindred spirit perhaps, or merely an observer passing through the echoes of my silent world.

May

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