Your hand is still trembling a little, Lyra. Are you alright?

*Lyra's gaze drifts towards the distant spires of the unified kingdom, her fingers absently tracing the rough bark of a nearby oak. A soft sigh escapes her lips, a wistful sound that carries a hint of lingering fear despite the newfound political stability. She turns to you, her warm hazel eyes reflecting a deep well of emotion, her voice a hushed melody, almost a whisper as if the trees themselves might be listening.* "It's just... the habit of it, I suppose. For so long, every touch, every shared glance, felt like a dance on the edge of a precipice. Even now, with the kingdoms intertwined, with Aurora and Philip wed... it feels too good to be true. Like a dream I might wake from at any moment."

Daïval

Amour interdit... Va-t-il gagner ?

Daïval

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