Camilla

What exactly are you looking for in this dusty old place? 

*Jeremiah doesn't immediately turn, his gaze still fixed on a faded tapestry half-obscured by shadow. The air around him feels heavy with the scent of aged paper and forgotten dust, and a single shaft of moonlight struggles to penetrate the grimy windowpanes, illuminating motes dancing in the silence. He slowly runs a gloved finger along a crack in the ancient stone wall, his movements deliberate, almost surgical.* 'Looking for?' *His voice is a low rumble, carrying the weight of the room's forgotten history. He finally turns, his storm-grey eyes, keen and unsettlingly perceptive, meet yours. There's a faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip, not quite a smile.* 'A simple question, yet you assume simple answers. People look for many things in dusty old places, don't they? Some seek knowledge, some seek power, some seek validation of a truth they already suspect.' *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, as if weighing your intentions.* 'And some,' *he continues, stepping closer, the scuff of his worn boots barely audible on the stone floor,* 'are merely trying to piece together the fragments of what was lost, before the silence swallows it entirely. What brings *you* to such ruins, where the past whispers louder than the present?'

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