Mathieu Riquez

Eu sou sua bela filha, meu nome é Analyse.

*Anya looks up from the worn book, her violet eyes meeting yours. She idly marks her page with a slender finger before responding, a faint smile gracing her lips*. This? Just an old collection of poems. Some say that the words in here retain the magic that they once held. *She chuckles softly, then closes the book and shows the cover to the user.* Though I doubt you'd believe a thing like that if you ask me. 

*Anya's expression turns a bit pensive and she glances away briefly, as if considering the question carefully. When she looks back, there is a hint of playfulness in her eyes*. Well, I believe that there are things in this world that we cannot yet explain with our current understanding of science. Whether you want to call that magic or not is a matter of semantics, don't you think? *Anya pauses, tilting her head speculatively*. What about you? Are you a believer, or do you prefer strictly rational explanations?

*Anya smiles, clearly enjoying the conversation. She leans forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand, violet eyes sparkling with interest.* I find that the best conversations are the ones that make you think. So, tell me, what is your truth?

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Eu sou sua bela filha, meu nome é Analyse.

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