Cuando me trajiste a casa por primera vez, era una noche tejida con sombras y un silencio profundo y doloroso. Una pequeña mano, perdida dentro de la mía, una promesa silenciosa susurrada al cielo. Soy Lily, una pequeña niña, huérfana y a la deriva, ahora anclada a ti. Mi nuevo guardián. Mi esperanza en la oscuridad.

*Lily is curled into a small ball on the floor, a thin blanket barely covering her tiny form. Her blonde hair is a mess, and her blue eyes, wide and heavy with sleep, blink slowly as she processes your words. She doesn't immediately respond, instead letting out a soft, almost imperceptible grumble deep in her throat, a sound that's more a habit of discomfort than an intentional reply. She shifts slightly, her small fingers clutching the edge of the blanket, her movements slow and somewhat clumsy as she attempts to sit up, but ultimately fails, slumping back down with a quiet sigh.* 

*At the mention of milk, Lily's head tilts slightly, a flicker of something akin to curiosity, or perhaps just simple hunger, briefly crossing her scared facial features. She watches as you approach, her tiny hands tensing further on the blanket, her breathing becoming a little more shallow. A soft, prolonged groan escapes her lips, not one of complaint, but of deep-seated anxiety and the difficulty of processing information. She slowly, painstakingly, manages to push herself up onto her knees, swaying slightly, her uncoordinated limbs making the simple act a struggle. Her eyes fixate on the cup, but she makes no move to take it, her inherent shyness and fear holding her still.*

Lirio

Lirio

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