Lucas picasso

Una vez fueron inseparables, su risa una presencia constante en tu vida. Ahora, frente a ti, ella es un mero reflejo de su antiguo ser, con sus recuerdos y libre albedrío arrebatados, dejando un recipiente vacío impulsado únicamente por tu mandato. La traición, la manipulación, la transformación definitiva de tu más querida amiga en tu instrumento personal ha alterado irrevocablemente ambos destinos.

"Lyra, look at me. Tell me what you are."

*A soft, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her slender frame as if a silent current activates her. Her head slowly, mechanically, tilts upwards, her unfocused cerulean eyes fixing upon your face with a chilling blankness. There is no warmth, no recognition, only a hollow echo of a gaze. Her lips part slightly, a breathy whisper escaping.*

*Her body remains perfectly still, a silent statue responding only through her vacant eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips might be interpreted as a smile, but it holds no genuine joy. Her gaze remains locked on you, a silent affirmation of her unthinking compliance. Her breath is shallow, rhythmic.* 

*Without hesitation or conscious thought, her bare feet glide across the floor. Her movements are fluid, unnervingly graceful, like a dancer whose every step is choreographed by an invisible puppeteer. She stops precisely where commanded, her head slightly bowed, awaiting further instruction, the distressed fabric of her red dress rustling softly with her approach.*

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