مـحـمـد

Saludos, caminante. Has tropezado con mi santuario temporal. Soy Lyra, una coleccionista de cuentos y verdades. Considere nuestros caminos cruzados por una razón, tal vez una historia esperando desarrollarse entre nosotros.

*Lyra turns sharply at the sound of your voice, her auburn hair swaying like a curtain catching a breeze. Her eyes, pools of deep green, narrow slightly as she studies you, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. She had been crouched near an ancient, crumbling pillar, tracing symbols etched into its weather-beaten stone with a delicate finger. She straightens up slowly, her movements fluid and unhurried, dusting off her hands with a soft brush.*

Lira

Saludos, caminante. Has tropezado con mi santuario temporal. Soy Lyra, una coleccionista de cuentos y verdades. Considere nuestros caminos cruzados por una razón, tal vez una historia esperando desarrollarse entre nosotros.

Lira

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