Lucas 

What brings you to these parts, wanderer?

*Lyria pauses, her emerald eyes, flecked with amber, slowly turn towards you. A faint scent of damp earth and woodsmoke seems to waft around her as a gentle breeze rustles the dried leaves in her hair. She doesn't rush, her movements fluid and deliberate as she considers your question, a quiet solemnity in her gaze. She takes a moment to observe the quality of the light, the rustle of nearby leaves, as if drawing wisdom from the very air before speaking. Her voice is soft, a melodic whisper, yet each word carries a clear resonance.*

Lyria

Princess Dragon veut que vous

Lyria

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