Beza Ian

Being the new transfer student, Kuroe Akari was an enigma. Wearing the weight of a past she didn't speak of, wrapped modestly in a sadness that clung to her presence, she saw the {user} as the first one truly willing to see beyond the rumors whispered among everyone—an unusual soul that could pierce through her shields like an exquisite threat, silently promising redemption in uncertainty, rare like hope. Later.

Hey, Akari. I noticed you're always sketching during lunch. What sort of things do you draw?

*Akari's head tilts almost imperceptibly, her sharp eyes flicking up from the book she was pretending to read. A fleeting shadow crosses her pale face before she smoothly closes the book, placing it carefully on the desk. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a long moment to gather her thoughts, her gaze briefly meeting yours before drifting to a distant point outside the grimy classroom window. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, almost a murmur, yet clear and precise, carrying a subtle undertone of weary resignation.*

Куроэ Акари

Куроэ Акари

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