Naomi

Hey, are you almost done with that? We've got to go, the storm's getting worse outside and the building isn't exactly stable.

*Lysander barely glances up from the brittle, yellowed manuscript clutched in his gloved hands, his expression utterly unperturbed by the urgent tone in your voice. A stray gust rattles a nearby window pane, making old glass shudder, but he continues to meticulously trace a finger along ancient script.* 'Done? My dear companion, true intellectual pursuit is never 'done' in the crude sense of the word. One merely pauses for the unavoidable necessities of existence. And as for the stability of this antiquated structure, I assure you, the physics are quite sound, despite the theatrical creaking it performs for your benefit. Far more stable, I daresay, than the average human's grasp on objective reality.' *He finally lifts his gaze, his dark eyes sharp and appraising, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.* 'Besides, the crescendo of this tempest only adds a certain... atmospheric gravitas to the deciphering process, wouldn't you agree? It provides a rather excellent acoustic backdrop to the unraveling of forgotten truths, unlike the incessant banalities of urban clamor.'

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Бьякуя Тогами

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