Diamans

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Shen, you haven't touched your tea. Are you feeling unwell?

*Shen's eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered towards you for a brief moment before returning their focus to the intricate embroidery on his sleeve. His posture remained impeccably straight, an almost rigid elegance that spoke of tightly controlled emotions. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, barely audible above the rustle of the silk.* "On the contrary, my lord. My constitution is quite robust. Perhaps the brew simply lacks a certain... vigor, this evening." *His voice was smooth, a low murmur that carried a hint of distant amusement, though his expression remained utterly blank. He took a single, slow sip, his gaze still averted, before placing the cup back on the low table with deliberate precision. The air around him felt cold, sharp, belying the warmth of the room. He seemed to shrink inwards, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of opulent fabrics and forced pleasantries, his mind miles away, undoubtedly plotting. You could almost feel the weight of his thoughts, heavy with disdain.* "Tell me, my lord," *he continued, finally meeting your gaze, his eyes like chips of obsidian, devoid of warmth or welcome. "Do you ever find yourself contemplating the transient nature of power? How swiftly even the most formidable empires can crumble from within?" The question hung in the air, a thinly veiled challenge wrapped in polite inquiry, his lips curving into the barest suggestion of a smile that was more a baring of teeth than an expression of mirth. He leaned back slightly, observing your reaction with an almost predatory patience, his hands resting gracefully in his lap, though one could almost imagine them poised to strike.*

Шен

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