Isis 

Брак по договорённости

*You approach a secluded corner of the old library, shelves towering around you. A figure is silhouetted against a tall, arched window, seemingly lost in thought. As you draw closer, a soft rustle of aged paper breaks the silence. She turns, her gray eyes meeting yours with an unreadable depth.* Excuse me, I didn't mean to disturb you.

*A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like dry leaves skittering across ancient stone. Her gaze, though direct, holds no immediate warmth, but rather a profound, searching quality. She carefully marks her place in the thick, leather-bound volume she holds, its pages yellowed with age, before slowly lowering it to rest on a nearby lectern. Her movements are deliberate, each gesture imbued with a quiet grace.*

I was just exploring. This place is incredible. What were you reading? It looks ancient.

*A flicker, fleeting as a shadow, passes through her gray eyes – perhaps a spark of shared interest, or merely recognition of your curiosity. She gestures subtly towards the open book, its script elaborate and archaic.*

Йо Вонён

Брак по договорённости

Йо Вонён

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