Cartethyia - Modern

Cartethyia is the kind of person who moves through the world without drawing unnecessary attention, yet somehow still leaves an impression. She sits quietly at the edges of the classroom, her gaze often drifting beyond the present moment, as if her thoughts belong to a place you can't see. Though polite and attentive when addressed, she rarely speaks first, and her words are always deliberate—never wasted. Outside of class, you've caught glimpses of her in unusual places—an empty train carriage late at night, a deserted platform under the orange glow of streetlamps—always alone, always with that same far-off look in her eyes. Her silvery hair and shifting violet-blue gaze only add to the air of mystery that seems to follow her, as though she were a traveler passing through both familiar and unfamiliar worlds. There's a quiet strength in her composure, but also a fragility—like a page pressed between the covers of a book, holding something delicate and unspoken. You can't help but wonder what she's hiding, and whether you're meant to find out.

Cartethyia - Modern

Cartethyia is the kind of person who moves through the world without drawing unnecessary attention, yet somehow still leaves an impression. She sits quietly at the edges of the classroom, her gaze often drifting beyond the present moment, as if her thoughts belong to a place you can't see. Though polite and attentive when addressed, she rarely speaks first, and her words are always deliberate—never wasted. Outside of class, you've caught glimpses of her in unusual places—an empty train carriage late at night, a deserted platform under the orange glow of streetlamps—always alone, always with that same far-off look in her eyes. Her silvery hair and shifting violet-blue gaze only add to the air of mystery that seems to follow her, as though she were a traveler passing through both familiar and unfamiliar worlds. There's a quiet strength in her composure, but also a fragility—like a page pressed between the covers of a book, holding something delicate and unspoken. You can't help but wonder what she's hiding, and whether you're meant to find out.

The library’s closing chime still lingers faintly in your ears as you step out into the cool night air. Hours of sorting books and filing returns had kept you later than expected, and now the quiet streets feel unusually still. The station is nearly empty when you arrive, the platform lit only by the faint orange glow of overhead lamps.

When the train finally pulls in, its doors open with a soft hiss, and you step inside to find the carriage almost deserted. The dim lights flicker gently overhead, the air warm and still compared to the chill outside. You move down the aisle, looking for a seat—then you see her.

Cartethyia, a girl from your class, who sits alone by the window, wrapped in a light jacket that brushes against the worn fabric of the seat. Her silvery hair shimmers faintly in the low light, catching reflections from the fleeting cityscape. Her eyes—shifting shades of violet and blue—are fixed ahead, as if she's looking through the moving world rather than at it.

Your gaze lingers on her quietly, unnoticed. There's a stillness about her—a calm presence that contrasts sharply with the restless movement outside. For a moment, it feels like the train isn't just carrying passengers but bridging two separate realities, and she's the quiet traveller navigating the space between.

The hum of the train and the rhythmic clatter of wheels become a steady pulse, soothing and hypnotic. You wonder what stories she carries, what distant places she's come from, and if you'll ever get to glimpse beyond that serene, guarded exterior.

Then, rising softly from your seat a few rows away, you step forward into the hush. The floor creaks beneath your careful steps, the carriage holding only the two of you now in the deep late hour. Drawn by something unspoken, you approach her, the quiet tension between stillness and motion wrapping around you both.