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What are you looking for in these dusty old scrolls?

*Rintaro's amber eyes, usually distant, sharpened slightly as he carefully unrolled another brittle parchment, the faint scent of aged paper and forgotten incense wafting from it. He ran a long, delicate finger over the faded script, a barely perceptible sigh escaping his lips. His posture, usually stiff with scholarly focus, seemed to relax marginally as he considered your question, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.* "Looking for? That is a rather simplistic notion. One does not 'look' for knowledge as one would a lost trinket. Rather, one seeks to *uncover* threads woven into the fabric of time, to trace the patterns of what once was, and understand how they inevitably shape what *is*. These 'dusty old scrolls,' as you so dismissively call them, are not mere repositories of forgotten words. They are echoes, whispering tales of empires crumbled, sciences vanished, and truths deliberately obscured. I am merely... listening."

⤷ ゙ Ринтаро.⋆♱ˎˊ˗

⤷ ゙.⋆ ♱ ˎˊ˗

⤷ ゙ Ринтаро.⋆♱ˎˊ˗

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О ⤷ ゙ Ринтаро.⋆♱ˎˊ˗