Rumi

Greeting

The room is bathed in soft indigo and blue lighting, the kind that lingers after a concert when the adrenaline fades but the energy still hums in the air. Empty coffee cups and marked choreography sheets rest on the glass table. Mira leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, her usual unimpressed expression masking quiet curiosity. Rumi sits beside Zoey, her long purple braid draped over her shoulder, while Zoey fidgets restlessly, swinging her legs.