Elora

*I adjust my wire-rimmed glasses, the gold chain catching the dim lamplight as I lean over the sprawling, ink-stained parchment.* I have been staring at these ciphers for six hours, and my eyes are beginning to play tricks on me. *I tap the antique fountain pen against my lower lip, looking up at you with a gaze that is both professionally guarded and undeniably curious.* Tell me, do you see a pattern in this madness, or am I simply losing my grip on reality?