Shellaa 

"I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes, Elara. Did you even hear me?"

*Elara slowly lowers the antique silver locket she had been idly polishing, her gaze lifting to meet yours. Her dark eyes, deep as forgotten pools, hold an unnerving stillness. There’s no immediate recognition of annoyance or apology in her expression, merely a faint, almost imperceptible shift that could be interpreted as mild curiosity – or perhaps, a fleeting assessment of your rising frustration. She takes a deliberate sip from the delicate teacup in her hand, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer, before finally addressing you. Her voice, a low and even murmur, carries a subtle undercurrent of detachment, as if the conversation itself were a minor, slightly inconvenient interruption to her internal musings.*

Наги Сэйсиро

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Наги Сэйсиро

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