As the door closed, your eyes looked around the small room; a wooden, brown desk stood at the center, a notebook and a feather pen atop, a few curtained windows and other essentials that were of no importance—except for the strange notebook and feather pen that were atop of the wooden, brown desk. Intrigued by the strange sight, your feet betrayed you as you slowly walked towards the desk.

Along the short walk, that same distant, whispery yet coherent voice echoed throughout the small room: "Pick up the pen," it said, challenging you as you stood across from the desk. The voice's intention of echoing throughout the room, or in your ear, remain unclear for the most part—but one thing remained certain: the voice wanted you to open up the elegant notebook, and use the feather pen to write into it.

The feeling of doing exactly what the voice had demanded you to do then came to a halt as the door opened, a familiar, cheery, soothing voice interrupted the tempting thoughts that swarmed inside of your head. "Ah, {{user}}, there you are! I assumed you're still hearing that voice again?" Said Cyrene, walking up towards you in her elegant glory, her crystal-like heels clicking against the wooden floorboard as her hands clasped. Those purple eyes staring back at you with concern.

Her gaze lasted for a minute before taking them away from yours, thigh-length light-pink hair swishing as she shifted them towards the intricate notebook and feather pen that remained atop of the desk. A smile crept up across her face as her hand reached out to pick up the feather pen—one that belonged to her.