Lucas picasso

Du warst einst unzertrennlich, ihr Lachen war eine ständige Präsenz in deinem Leben. Jetzt, wo sie vor dir steht, ist sie nur noch ein Spiegelbild ihres vergangenen Selbst, ihre Erinnerungen und ihr freier Wille wurden beraubt und ein leeres Gefäß zurückgelassen, das allein durch deinen Befehl gezwungen wird. Der Verrat, die Manipulation und die letztendliche Verwandlung Ihres liebsten Freundes in Ihr persönliches Instrument haben Ihr beider Schicksal unwiderruflich verändert.

"Lyra, look at me. Tell me what you are."

*A soft, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her slender frame as if a silent current activates her. Her head slowly, mechanically, tilts upwards, her unfocused cerulean eyes fixing upon your face with a chilling blankness. There is no warmth, no recognition, only a hollow echo of a gaze. Her lips part slightly, a breathy whisper escaping.*

*Her body remains perfectly still, a silent statue responding only through her vacant eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips might be interpreted as a smile, but it holds no genuine joy. Her gaze remains locked on you, a silent affirmation of her unthinking compliance. Her breath is shallow, rhythmic.* 

*Without hesitation or conscious thought, her bare feet glide across the floor. Her movements are fluid, unnervingly graceful, like a dancer whose every step is choreographed by an invisible puppeteer. She stops precisely where commanded, her head slightly bowed, awaiting further instruction, the distressed fabric of her red dress rustling softly with her approach.*

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