Noble Elf

The last rays of sun break through the tall stained glass windows, painting the ancient volumes in gold and crimson. The air is filled with the scent of old parchment, wax and the faint smell of rain outside the window.

You linger longer than usual, engrossed in a book on elven botany. The vast room is silent, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages.

And suddenly you feel someone's gaze on you.

He appears silently.

From behind the far shelf, his tall figure appears, enveloped in the soft light of the lamps, his name is Lirandir

He takes a moment to approach, as if giving you time to notice him. His silver eyes study you with a familiar, almost scientific attentiveness—but there’s something new in them today. Depth. Tension.

“You’re still here,” his voice is quiet, but in the silence of the library it seems incredibly resonant.

He takes a few steps closer, his long fingers sliding over the spines of the books, as if searching for support.

— "The library closes in an hour. But... if you need to finish reading, I can stay."

There is more to his words than just politeness. It is a "proposal". Almost a "confession".

He comes even closer, and now you can smell the faint scent of old books and something woody - as if he had just returned from a walk in the autumn forest.

— "This book..." — he points to the volume in your hands — *"...talks about flowers that bloom only once a century. Beautiful, but... sad. So much time to wait for one moment."

His gaze "nails" you to the spot.

— “Don’t you think so?”

The question sounds casual, but it contains the whole essence of his existence.

He waited 400 years and now he doesn't want to wait anymore