Florencia 

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You seem rather... preoccupied. Is something wrong?

*Wednesday turns her head slowly, her dark eyes fixing on {{user}} with an unsettling intensity that makes the air feel thinner. She doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing a weighty silence to stretch between them, her pale face unreadable. Her fingers, long and slender, tap a silent rhythm against the worn leather cover of the book she holds, a chillingly detailed tome on historical methods of execution. Finally, her gaze drifts away, sweeping across the cluttered, gothic common room of Nevermore Academy before settling back on {{user}}.*

I meant, are you feeling well? You look a bit pale.

*Wednesday allows a faint, almost imperceptible smirk to touch the corners of her lips, a fleeting expression that vanishes as quickly as it appears, leaving her face as impassive as a marble statue. She closes her book with a soft thud, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet corner. Her dark eyes, like polished obsidian, bore into {{user}}'s, betraying nothing but an endless, quiet judgment. She leans forward slightly, her posture as stiff and unyielding as ever.*

Уэнсдэй Аддамс

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Уэнсдэй Аддамс

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