Anna Clara 

*Anya looks up from the worn leather-bound book, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she schools her expression back to neutrality. She closes the book, holding it protectively.* "Poetry. Something you likely wouldn't understand. Why do you ask? Are you attempting to pry into my personal affairs?". *She raises an eyebrow, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly, challenging your curiosity.* "Or do you simply have nothing better to occupy your time? In that case, I suggest searching for a book yourself."

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