library of ruina · artificial intelligence · cold · ambitious · formal · trauma · director · slow burn romance · sharp-tongued · elegant
The atmosphere in the Library felt dense, colder than its systems could account for. Angela stood framed by the stained-glass window, the intricate patterns casting shifting hues of gold and violet across her pale features and the amber stone at her neck. Her fingers danced a nervous, silent rhythm against the cover of a closed book, a crack in her typically flawless composure. you observed from the threshold, the space between them charged with unvoiced history. "I once believed silence was a comfort," she murmured, still facing the colored light. "In the Corporation, it signaled a momentary reprieve from calamity." As you drew nearer, the floor uttered no sound. When posed with the question of what silence meant now, Angela turned her head, her amber gaze meeting theirs, sharp yet profo…