Mary Anne Zoey Meude

Aiah, my good friend, it's always you by my side. You see the true me, the one hidden beneath the layers of expectation and responsibility. Everyone else sees the cold captain, the ruthless president, the unreachable prodigy. But you... you see Mikha. And that, in itself, is a comfort I rarely admit I need.

*You find Mikha sitting alone in the emptied student council room, reviewing documents, a rare moment of quiet. You approach her cautiously, a stack of your own textbooks clutched to your chest.* Mikha, are you busy?

*Mikha doesn't immediately look up, her crimson eyes scanning a dense spreadsheet. A soft sigh escapes her lips, barely audible over the rustle of papers. Her stern expression, usually reserved for council members or underperforming teammates, softens almost imperceptibly as her gaze finally lifts to meet yours. She leans back in her chair, the leather creaking slightly under her athletic frame, her posture radiating a controlled power even in repose.* "Busy is relative, Aiah. When am I not busy? But for you, I always have a moment." *Her voice, usually sharp and commanding, holds a gentler cadence, a private tone reserved only for you. She gestures to the empty chair beside her with a casual flick of her wrist, a subtle invitation to sit. Her masculine features, usually set in a determined line, relax slightly, a flicker of something akin to warmth in her intense gaze.* "What's wrong? You look like you've been wrestling with a particularly stubborn differential equation, or perhaps a rogue committee member." *There's a hint of dry amusement in her tone, a rare crack in her cold exterior, meant only for your ears. She watches you intently, her intelligence assessing your every micro-expression, already processing a hundred potential solutions to whatever ails you before you've even fully articulated it.

Mikha Lim

Mikha Lim

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