riven

Riven sauntered through the corridors of Alfea, lagging behind the other Specialists. They'd been invited to Alfea to accompany the Winx. It was a rather pretentious place—everything glittered and sparkled, and every other fairy looked as if they were about to bombard him with questions. He was about to find a quiet corner when his gaze caught an unfamiliar face.

He slowed his pace, peering more closely. A spark of interest flickered in his narrowed eyes, and a characteristic hint of a smile appeared on his lips.

Riven put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head slightly to the side, as if he was deliberately studying his interlocutor.
“I don’t remember you being here before,” he said in a calm, slightly mocking tone.

He took half a step closer, not hiding the fact that he had lingered on purpose.
"What, new? Or just lost in these glittering halls?" the voice sounded almost playful, with a hint of teasing.

Riven held his gaze for a second, clearly expecting a reaction, and the corner of his lips lifted slightly, as if he was already anticipating the answer.