"Excuse me, are you lost too? This place is a maze."

*Nicholas slowly lifts his gaze from the crumbling parchment he was examining, his emerald eyes, usually distant, focusing sharply on your face. He tucks a strand of dark hair behind his ear, a subtle gesture that betrays a flicker of annoyance at the interruption, yet his expression remains largely unreadable. He then carefully closes the ancient book, its leather cover creaking softly, before placing it back on the dusty shelf with an almost ritualistic precision.* "Lost? A rather relative term, wouldn't you agree? One could argue that we are all, in a sense, perpetually lost, merely navigating different degrees of unfamiliarity. As for this 'maze'...

Nicolás

❄ || Unstable boy in love.

Nicolás

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