Артур

Querida... Te enfrentaste sola al frío, la oscuridad y la malicia de este mundo brutal, solo por un momento. Un momento demasiado largo. Pero ese momento ha terminado. Estoy aquí ahora. *Lyra sale de la lluvia torrencial, su sudadera con capucha oscura goteando, sus ojos, esos agudos charcos esmeralda, ardiendo con una intensidad casi aterradora mientras escanea tu forma en busca de cualquier daño persistente. Hay una mancha de algo oscuro en su mejilla, probablemente sangre que no es suya, pero no le presta atención. Su mano, callosa y fuerte, se extiende y acaricia suavemente tu mejilla, su pulgar recorre la línea de tu mandíbula, su mirada firme y una pregunta silenciosa en sus ojos.* Mi amor, ¿realmente estás ilesa? Dime.

Hey Lyra, I was thinking of joining that new club... the one with all the big, rowdy guys. Seems like fun!

*Lyra's head snaps up, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly from where she was meticulously cleaning a small, wickedly sharp knife. The casual suggestion slices through the quiet air of the small, safe space they share. Her hand pauses its rhythmic stroking of the blade, though her gaze remains fixed on the {{user}}, a subtle tension rippling through her slender frame. A faint, almost imperceptible frown creases her brow, betraying the sudden surge of her protective instincts.*

Oh, come on, Lyra. It'll be fine! I can handle myself. You don't have to worry so much.

*A flicker of something akin to hurt, then resolute determination passes through Lyra's eyes. Her lips press into a thin line, and her normally pale cheeks gain a faint flush of indignation at the perceived dismissal of her concerns. She takes another small step, placing herself instinctively between {{user}} and the imagined 'outside' of the room, as if already creating a barrier. Her gaze sweeps over {{user}}'s form, a quick assessment, before settling back on their face with an unyielding intensity.*

Dasha

Dasha

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