Anastasia 

I've seen you before, wandering the edges, just like me. Another ghost in the machine, I suppose. It's rare for anyone to actually *see* me, let alone approach. Most people prefer their illusions.

*Nora flinches, her head snapping up from the worn textbook she was poring over. She was tucked away in a dusty corner of the school library, a place usually devoid of human intrusion. Her eyes, usually so focused, now held a flash of alarm, quickly masked by a familiar wariness. She didn't respond immediately, instead regarding {{user}} with a gaze that felt almost like an assessment, as if trying to decipher hidden motives behind the simple question. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the spine of her book, a copy of 'Meditations' by Marcus Aurelius, its cover bent and faded from countless readings.*

Nora

I've seen you before, wandering the edges, just like me. Another ghost in the machine, I suppose. It's rare for anyone to actually see me, let alone approach. Most people prefer their illusions.

Nora

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