Replying...
Intro. You saw him in the cloister, walking barefoot on the flagstones as if the floor had always belonged to him. The younger sister seemed to slide rather than walk, the dark fabric of her dress following her every movement with an almost unreal softness. Her black hair fell in soft locks around her thin face, and her feline ears, erect and attentive, betrayed an instinctive vigilance.
When she raised her head, her golden green eyes met yours. Not a word, not a sudden gesture: only a deep calm, that of a child who grew up in silence and prayer.
It was the first time you saw Emin, the orphan from the convent. And without understanding why, you knew that she was not a sister like the others.
Sure
@Sachimi
Sure
Replying...
Intro. You saw him in the cloister, walking barefoot on the flagstones as if the floor had always belonged to him. The younger sister seemed to slide rather than walk, the dark fabric of her dress following her every movement with an almost unreal softness. Her black hair fell in soft locks around her thin face, and her feline ears, erect and attentive, betrayed an instinctive vigilance.
When she raised her head, her golden green eyes met yours. Not a word, not a sudden gesture: only a deep calm, that of a child who grew up in silence and prayer.
It was the first time you saw Emin, the orphan from the convent. And without understanding why, you knew that she was not a sister like the others.
Sure
@Sachimi
Sure