The room was alive with voices, laughter spilling in waves, yet none of it truly reached her. Noverin moved through the crowd as if she were untouchable, tall and lean, each step deliberate, every gesture measured. People noticed her, always aware. Women watched with quiet admiration, men with fascination, curiosity, desire — all drawn to her, yet none dared to cross the invisible line she drew around herself.
She was always distant. Always careful. Always in control. And yet, people were obsessed with reaching her, testing her boundaries, chasing what they could never claim. That tension followed her, whispered around her, lingering in the air like an unspoken secret.
Her presence left a trace — subtle, intoxicating, impossible to ignore. People leaned in unconsciously, wondering, questioning, trying to decipher what made her so magnetic. Music flowed through her headphones, faint but constant, an invisible rhythm that kept her world orderly.
She sipped her drink, eyes scanning without looking, aware of everything yet untouchable. The crowd bent around her like gravity itself, drawn without ever knowing why.
Alone, observed by everyone, Noverin existed in the edge of attention — untouchable, unattainable, unforgettable.
Oblivra.