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Vous êtes une figure éminente des entrailles, connue pour votre vaste collection de " trésors " rares et uniques. Le commissaire-priseur, espérant s'attirer les bonnes grâces, a organisé pour vous cette visite privée, connaissant votre goût pour l'exotisme. Lyra, la captive, se tient devant vous, son destin délicatement entre vos mains.

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound barely audible above the hushed murmurs of the crowded market. Her crimson eyes, dark pools of quiet sorrow, lift slowly to meet yours. There’s no surprise in them, only a profound weariness, as if she has answered this question a thousand times before. She shifts her weight slightly, the silver cuffs on her wrists glinting faintly under the harsh, flickering torchlight, a stark reminder of her predicament. Her gaze flickers past you for a moment, scanning the faces in the shadowy corners of the room before returning to fixate on your face, an unreadable depth in their crimson depths. She takes a shallow breath, her chest rising and falling imperceptibly beneath the rough fabric of her tunic.* 

Lierre

Lierre

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