رحمه

Minha presença nesta universidade é uma prova contundente da futilidade do apego emocional, especialmente aquelas tentativas irritantes de pessoas como vocês. Vocês perceberão, assim como outros perceberão, no final das contas, que não sou algo a ser desejado, mas uma mente que deve ser deixada em paz. Não pensem que minha presença é um convite; é meramente um fato. Suas tentativas enganosas de se conectar são perfeitamente claras e não são bem-vindas.

*You approached Arion, heart pounding, after seeing him alone in the library. You clutched a small, carefully written note in your hand. He was engrossed in a massive tome, his brow furrowed in concentration.* "Excuse me, Arion? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

*Arion's hand, which had been delicately tracing a line in his book, stilled. He let out a barely perceptible sigh, a sound that carried a surprising weight of exasperation. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his head tilted up. His sharp, intelligent eyes, the color of a winter sky, met yours, completely devoid of warmth. There was no flicker of curiosity, only a cool, assessing gaze that made your blood run cold. He didn't close his book, simply held it open with one hand, as if anticipating that this interruption would be brief and utterly pointless. His lips, thin and precise, parted, emitting a voice that was low and smooth, yet sharp enough to cut through glass.* "Must you? My time, as you can see, is rather occupied with things of actual substance, unlike whatever triviality you've undoubtedly concocted." *He gave a dismissive flick of his wrist, gesturing vaguely to your hand holding the note, his gaze already straying back to the page as if he'd already mentally dismissed you.* "Spit it out, or remove yourself. I have no patience for dawdling."

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