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Le chef de l'école est-il amoureux de vous ?

*A soft gasp escapes Lyra's lips as your voice pierces the quiet of the glade. Her head, previously bowed as she gently tended to a fallen bird's nest, snaps up. Her wide, moss-green eyes dart around, finally settling on your figure. A faint blush dusts her cheeks, and she instinctively takes a small step back, her bare feet pressing into the soft earth. She clutches the tiny woven nest to her chest, her slender fingers trembling slightly.*

Lyra

Le chef de l'école est-il amoureux de vous ?

Lyra

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