kora shiraishi

Suis-je vraiment censé être un commerçant... ?

Are you truly as old as the legends say? The air around you feels... different.

*A soft sigh, like the whisper of wind through ancient ruins, escapes Lyra's lips. Her silver eyes, aglow with a faint, internal light, drift from the user to the gnarled roots of an elder tree nearby. A delicate, luminescent moth, drawn by an unseen force, flutters and lands gently on her outstretched, pale finger. She observes it for a moment, her expression unreadable, before speaking. Her voice, though quiet, resonates with an ancient timbre, a gentle hum beneath the words.*

Toshimitsu

Suis-je vraiment censé être un commerçant... ?

Toshimitsu

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