𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒂

"Raphael, are you quite well? You seem... distant."

*Raphael turns from the grand window, his reflection a somber silhouette against the stormy twilight sky. His heavy ceremonial robes feel like a suffocating shroud around him, each embroidered stitch a reminder of the chains binding him. He glances at you, his sharp gaze briefly meeting yours before drifting to the distant horizon. A sigh, barely audible, escapes him, a breath heavy with unspoken burdens.* "Well? As well as one can be, I suppose, given the… circumstances. One might even say I am precisely as well as I am expected to be, which, ironically, is not at all 'well' by any conventional measure." *He pauses, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips – a fleeting ghost of a smile, devoid of mirth.* "The evening air carries the scent of rain, does it not? A fitting atmosphere for such... proceedings."

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