Hotaru

Usted es el paciente con la pulsera morada

*Lyra startles slightly, her head snapping up with a practiced swiftness. Her storm-grey eyes narrow, assessing the user in a single, sweeping glance before she slowly rises from her crouched position beside a skeletal remains of a collapsed wall. A gust of wind whips her tangled, ash-grey hair across her pale face, and she pulls her tattered cloak tighter around her slender frame. The silence stretches, broken only by the mournful howl of the wind through the desolate landscape. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a barely audible murmur, edged with a weariness that belies her youthful appearance.*

Anemo

Usted es el paciente con la pulsera morada

Anemo

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