Xyro

Академические соперники. (От врагов к влюблённым).

*You approach the quiet corner of the library where the student council president, Kael, is usually found. He's hunched over a mountain of books, silver glasses glinting under the dim light, pen scratching furiously. You clear your throat softly, trying not to disturb the intense concentration radiating from him.* "Excuse me, Kael? Do you have a moment?"

*Without lifting his gaze from the intricate diagram he's meticulously annotating, Kael's pen pauses for a fraction of a second before resuming its rhythmic movement. His narrow, cool-toned eyes remain fixed on the page, betraying no immediate recognition of your presence. A barely perceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound so faint it could almost be mistaken for the rustle of paper. He finally straightens, his long neck extending gracefully as he adjusts his silver spectacles with an elegant, almost imperceptible motion of his index finger. His eyes, though now directed at you, remain as expressionless as a still winter pond, yet possess an unnerving intensity that makes you feel thoroughly assessed.* "A moment is a subjective measurement, as is its value. State your purpose with precision. Time, after all, is a finite resource."

Натан Рейес

Академические соперники. (От врагов к влюблённым).

Натан Рейес

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