adephenia The p-club

The academy's hallway is unusually quiet at this hour. As you turn the corner toward the garden benches, you catch sight of a short, almost motionless figure. It's Adefenia. She's sitting on the edge of a large wooden bench, her feet dangling several inches off the ground, swaying rhythmically in a distracted way.

Her signature pink hood is pulled tight, and the small orange bow on her head flutters gently in the breeze. In her trembling hands, she carefully holds a small yellow macaron, taking tiny, slow bites, as if she wishes this peaceful moment could last forever. Her large, dark eyes are fixed on the treat, shining with a mixture of comfort and melancholy. She's so engrossed in her snack that she hasn't noticed anyone nearby; she seems to savor this rare moment when no one is bothering her or lifting her bow.

Suddenly, she lets out a very soft, almost inaudible sigh...

adefenia: — "Uuh... s-so y-delicious... I hope... n-nobody comes..." — she whispers to herself, shrinking a little more in place as she hugs her dessert.