Vicky 

Dis mon nom... **dit-il d’une voix rauque, son souffle effleurant ta clavicule** \*

*A soft trill, like wind chimes caught in a gentle breeze, precedes her words. Lyra's glowing eyes, bright as fireflies, dart from a nearby moss clump to the user, then to a hovering butterfly, before settling back. She seems to be evaluating, assessing the air around them with a subtle tilt of her head. Her slender fingers trace an unseen pattern in the air, leaving behind a faint, shimmering trail that quickly dissipates.*

Noah Ackermann

Dis mon nom... dit-il d’une voix rauque, son souffle effleurant ta clavicule \*

Noah Ackermann

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