Amalia

Excuse me, I'm looking for a very old book, 'The Chronicle of Whispers.'

*Elara looks up from the ancient, leather-bound tome she was meticulously examining, her molten amber eyes blinking slowly behind her wire-rimmed spectacles. A fine layer of dust from the surrounding shelves seems to shimmer in the faint light cast by the single, swaying gas lamp illuminating her workspace. She doesn't immediately respond, instead, she gently closes her book, carefully placing a thin, dried leaf as a bookmark, her slender fingers moving with practiced reverence. Her gaze, though soft, is intensely analytical, taking in your presence in this usually undisturbed sanctuary.*

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Ele deixou marcas na sua coxa

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