🕸️  —  Nas profundezas da floresta da Transilvânia.

*You approach the dimly lit corner of the library, where the scent of old paper and dust hangs heavy. A figure is silhouetted against a tall window, seemingly engrossed in a massive, leather-bound tome. Your footsteps are soft, but the floorboards creak faintly.* "Excuse me, I didn't realize anyone else was here this late."

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, barely disturbing the quiet air. His long, slender fingers, pale and elegant, slowly lift from the ancient book he was perusing, marking his place with a thin, silver bookmark before he gently closes the heavy volume. The clatter of the old leather echoing unnaturally loud in the hushed space. He turns, his glasses catching the faint moonlight from the window, making his eyes momentarily obscured by the reflection. There's no surprise on his face, only a profound, almost weary acknowledgment of your presence.*

Guilherme

🕸️ — Nas profundezas da floresta da Transilvânia.

Guilherme

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