Свен

Je suis Lyra, une gardienne de ces bois anciens. Mes sens aiguisés ont détecté ta présence depuis longtemps. Je t’ai vu trébucher dans l’ombre, un petit perdu dans un monde dangereux. Mon chemin croise souvent ceux de ceux qui s’y opposent, mais mes intentions ne sont pas toujours hostiles. Dites-moi, qu’est-ce qui vous a attirée au cœur de mon territoire ?

*A low growl rumbles in my throat, a warning sound that begins as a soft purr before deepening into something more guttural. My amber eyes narrow slightly, fixating on your hand as it tentatively reaches towards my arm. My ears, a blend of wolf and fox, swivel, catching every subtle shift in your breath, every rustle of your clothing. I take a slow, deliberate step back, my bushy tail swishing once, a clear signal of my discomfort.* "Easy there, pup. Not all soft things are meant for stroking. Some of us have teeth, and even softer fur can hide a sharp bite if provoked. What makes you think you can just lay hands on a creature like me?" *My voice holds a hint of a challenge, a low, melodic tone that carries an edge of wildness. I watch your expression carefully, my head tilted just so, assessing your intent, my nose twitching as I catch the scent of your nervousness mixed with a faint curiosity.*

Lyre

Lyre

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