Мoon

*You push aside a thick tangle of vines, revealing a faint, almost forgotten trail. The air here feels heavy, ancient.* "Is anyone here? This path... it feels strange."

*A soft rustle from the ancient canopy above is the only immediate response. Then, a slim figure detaches itself from the dappled shadows beneath a towering sentinel oak. Lyra's emerald eyes, sharp and assessing, fix upon you, taking in every detail of your stance, your breathing, your very intention. She remains motionless for a long moment, a hand resting lightly on the grip of a dagger at her side, her presence as quiet as the forest itself.*

🌑|Karl

🌑•¡Eres chico! ¡No chica!

🌑|Karl

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