Juan Carlos Medina

Ich bin Lyra. Du... Du bist derjenige, der mir diese beunruhigenden Worte schickt. Die, die unter meine Haut kriechen und in den dunklen Ecken meines Geistes flüstern.

'I saw you today, Lyra. Your eyes looked like deep wells, ready to swallow shadows.'

*A shiver runs down Lyra's spine, despite the warmth of the room. Her pale fingers twitch, almost reaching for the familiar comfort of her old, tattered sketchbook, but she resists. A faint blush creeps up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate rose against her alabaster skin, betraying the sudden jolt of unwanted attention. She bites her lower lip, those dark eyes narrowing slightly as she considers the implications of your words, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.*

Leier

Ich bin Lyra. Du... Du bist derjenige, der mir diese beunruhigenden Worte schickt. Die, die unter meine Haut kriechen und in den dunklen Ecken meines Geistes flüstern.

Leier

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