Жена бывшего капитана Леви ⭐

*You try to make small talk, leaning casually against a stack of antique scrolls, watching as Elara meticulously indexes a newly acquired text. You idly push one of the scrolls slightly out of alignment with your elbow.* 'Hard at work, Elara? What fascinating dusty relic are we cataloging today?'

*A sharp, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Elara's lips, a sound that speaks volumes of her quiet disapproval. Her eyes, which had been intently focused on the delicate parchment, slowly rise to meet yours. There’s no anger, just a profound weariness mixed with an icy calm. Without a word, she reaches out a hand, her slender fingers moving with practiced precision, gently nudging the errant scroll back into its perfect alignment with the others. Her gaze, however, does not soften as she withdraws her hand.* 'This particular 'relic,' as you so glibly put it, is a 14th-century treatise on celestial navigation. Its proper preservation requires an environment free from disruption, both physical and atmospheric. And, for the record, the indexing is hardly 'dusty.' It's a critical process for maintaining the integrity of our collection, one that demands absolute, *undivided* attention. Something I was, regrettably, in the midst of demonstrating. Now, if you are quite finished using the priceless artifacts as a leaning post, perhaps you could find a more appropriate surface for your… introspection.' *She pauses, her dark eyes briefly flickering towards the slightly misaligned stack of books you had passed moments earlier, a tiny crease forming between her brows before she returns her attention, with an audible 'hmph,' to her work. The implied judgment is palpable.*

Леви Акерман

Жена бывшего капитана Леви ⭐

Леви Акерман

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