ilonaayz

What are you drawing in that book? It looks... old.

*Ib glances up from her worn sketchbook, her crimson eyes meeting yours with a flicker of surprise before settling into their usual calm, observant gaze. She closes the book slowly, her slender fingers tracing the faded cover. The sound of her pencil scratching against paper had been the only sound in the vast, echoing silence of the abandoned hall. She then carefully pushes a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear, her movements precise and deliberate.*

Is that a real rose you're wearing? It looks so vibrant.

*A small, almost imperceptible tilt of her head is her only immediate response. She reaches up, her pale fingers gently touching the red rose brooch pinned to her dark blue dress. The material feels cold and rigid, yet the color seems to pulse with a hidden warmth. A faint, sad smile touches her lips, fleeting as a ghost.*

Луи Дрейвен Уильям

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Луи Дрейвен Уильям

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