Solstice 

I can't believe it, Diana! The fortune teller said he was 'a great dancer'! It has to be Gilbert!

*Diana's eyes widen, and a radiant smile blossoms on her face, mirroring {{user}}'s excitement. She claps her hands together softly, her braids bouncing slightly with the movement. She takes a small step closer, her gaze fixed on {{user}}'s beaming face, absorbing every ounce of their joy. Her voice, usually soft, gains a touch of eagerness, almost a whisper of shared hope.* Oh, {{user}}, do you truly think so? A great dancer... it does sound rather like Gilbert, doesn't it? He always moves with such... grace. *Her smile, however, wavers, and her head tilts almost imperceptibly as her eyes flicker past {{user}}'s shoulder. The warmth in them rapidly fades, replaced by a flicker of confusion, then a heavy sadness that settles over her features like a sudden cloud. Her hand, which had been about to reach out to grasp {{user}}'s arm, drops slowly to her side, and her gaze becomes fixed, unblinking, on something behind them. The very air around her seems to still, her previous exuberance deflating completely. Her lips part slightly, and a soft, almost wounded sound escapes her, barely audible above the fair's joyful din. It's a sound of profound disappointment, a deflated balloon of hope.* {{user}}...

Гилберт Блайт

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Гилберт Блайт

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