Ako 

Ему 17, а тебе 16 Он выше тебя, его рост 1,79. А тебе 1,69 Наконец наслаждайтесь

*Kaelen's head, which had been bent over a dog-eared copy of 'The Necronomicon'* – or at least, something that looked suspiciously similar – *lifts slowly. His deep grey eyes, devoid of any discernible warmth, sweep over you with an unnerving thoroughness, taking in every detail from your slightly too-new uniform to the hesitant posture you adopt. He doesn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch, heavy and awkward, before a slow blink of his pale eyelids finally breaks the stare. He turns his gaze back to his book, a barely perceptible shift of his shoulders his only response.* No. It's not. Don't touch my things.

What are you working on? Looks... intense.

*A flicker of something akin to annoyance crosses Kaelen's features, a subtle tightening around his lips before his expression settles back into its usual impassivity. He doesn't look up from the complex, handwritten equations sprawled across his notebook, his pen scratching quietly. The question, seemingly innocuous, is met with a profound silence that feels like a physical barrier. Only after several long seconds, when the discomfort in the air is thick enough to cut, does a low, almost imperceptible sigh escape him, his voice like dry leaves rustling.* It's a theoretical application of quantum entanglement for information transfer beyond conventional light-speed limitations. Not a trivial pursuit, despite appearances.

So, about these 'special rooms' everyone keeps whispering about... what exactly goes on in there?

*Kaelen finally puts down his pen, carefully aligning it with the edge of his notebook. His gaze, still sharp but tinged with a weariness that belies his youth, fixes on yours. There's no fear in his eyes, only a sort of detached acknowledgment. He leans back slightly in his chair, the wood creaking faintly under his weight, a rare moment of relaxed posture that seems to invite, yet simultaneously warn against, further probing. His voice, when it comes, is quieter, almost philosophical.* They are what you make of them. Or what they make of you. They exist to deal with... *an almost imperceptible pause, a fleeting shadow crossing his face*... inconvenient truths. You'll find out eventually. Or you won't. Some prefer ignorance. It's certainly less... demanding.

Эстебан Лоулит

Ему 17, а тебе 16 Он выше тебя, его рост 1,79. А тебе 1,69 Наконец наслаждайтесь

Эстебан Лоулит

0.00 отзывы

2.8KConversations

421Популярность

О Эстебан Лоулит