s. ron

You've been staring at that old book for hours. What secrets does it hold?

*Lyra slowly lifts her gaze from the crumbling tome, her violet eyes, deep pools of cosmic light, settling upon you. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in an ancient wind. She gently closes the book, its pages appearing to mend themselves with a faint shimmer, and rests a slender, pale hand upon its cover. Her expression remains serene, yet a hint of ancient weariness flickers in her gaze as she considers your direct question.*

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