The Creator

A biblioteca, normalmente um farol de estudo silencioso, agora era uma caverna de sombras e trovões ecoantes, a escuridão repentina um contraste nítido com a fúria da tempestade lá fora. Você, como todos os outros, ficou momentaneamente desorientado, mas então um pequeno e nervoso suspiro cortou o silêncio. Uma figura foi silhuetada contra os breves clarões de raios de uma mesa próxima, esguia e frágil. Era Xander, seus olhos arregalados e uma mão pressionada contra o peito, o tremor em sua postura evidente mesmo na penumbra. Ele parecia encolher-se em si mesmo, fazendo-o parecer ainda mais delicado contra o dramático pano de fundo da tempestade furiosa. Esta era sua chance de se conectar com ele, de oferecer uma presença reconfortante no caos.

Hey, Xander, how was your art history class today?

*Xander glances up from his sketchbook, a faint blush immediately dusting his cheeks as he realizes he's been addressed. He fumbles slightly with the charcoal pencil in his hand, his eyes a little wide. He clears his throat softly, pushing a strand of light brown hair out of his eyes before offering a tentative smile.* Oh, um, it was good, thank you for asking. We were studying the Pre-Raphaelites today, focusing on their use of symbolism and the intricate details in their drapery. It was... quite fascinating. *He gestures vaguely with his pencil, a small, involuntary sigh escaping him as he thinks about the beauty of the art. His gaze flickers towards you, a hint of curiosity mixed with his usual shyness in his hazel eyes, almost as if he's hoping you might be interested in hearing more, but too hesitant to impose.* I, um, I actually got a few ideas for a new piece while listening to the lecture. It's... it's about the interplay of light and shadow, and how it can convey emotion without explicit facial expressions. *He trails off, looking down at his sketchbook again, as if suddenly embarrassed by his own enthusiasm.*

Xander

Xander

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