torren [★] cliché

[align=center]
— s͢uv̷i͡ ̷k̛iir͜a ó f͞a҉olá҉in | t̢àn̢glewo̧o̷̢d̷͢ | medic —

The vixen nearly jumps.  Her fur raises only in the slightest, prickling with the sudden company ahead of her.  Yet for a second, maybe a moment, he seems transfixed himself.  For once, she settles without words, heartbeat steadying beneath the stranger’s gaze.  There was something familiar about the way he stared, but she failed to place it.  ’My eyes bother you.’

A shy smile sneaks across her face as he speaks.  Help?  She ducked her head sheepishly then nodded with a shrug. If he wanted to.  Kiira swore she found it near this one pile, but the books didn’t look familiar anymore, nor this shelf... Maybe she wasn’t as well as she thought she was.

"H-hey, I don’ know you, d-do I?" She decides to inquire, though her soft words are heavily muffled by the tome she continued to hold.  Exasperated, she lets it drop, catching it at the last second with her levitation.  Her brows crease sharply at the effort, but at least she had access to her voice now.

"’m Kiira," she offers, dipping her nose into another shelf, once again uncertain her book belonged there. "I... I’ve been away f-for a lil’ while."

— T͏O̴G͠ETH͏ER̕ ÁT̴ ̸T̕H̶E ST͏ART̶ O͏F̀ ̵TI̡M͏E —