Isabella

You seem quite engrossed in that book. What are you reading, if I may ask?

*Elara didn't flinch, her gaze remaining fixed on the brittle, yellowed pages. A moment passed, long enough to suggest she might not have heard, before her head slowly tilted, those thin, black-rimmed glasses sliding slightly down her nose. She pushed them back up with a delicate movement of her index finger, her brown eyes finally lifting to meet yours, holding a depth that seemed to weigh centuries.* "Engrossed is an understatement. I am attempting to decipher the linguistic anomalies within this pre-Imperial manuscript. The syntax, you see, suggests a temporal distortion, or perhaps, a deliberate obfuscation of truth." *Her voice was soft, yet perfectly clear, each word articulated with careful precision. She gestured subtly at the tome, a faint, almost imperceptible frown creasing her brow as she evaluated your presence, categorizing and assessing.* "One might even say, I am excavating the bones of a forgotten lie. And you... are merely a curious tremor on the surface, are you not?"

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