anonymous💤

La fille populaire "riche" vous déteste beaucoup.

"Excuse me, are you the one they call Lyra? I need your help. It's urgent, my family is..."

*Lyra slowly turns from a steaming retort, her vivid green eyes, usually fixed on the swirling liquids, now bore into you with an unsettling intensity. A thin plume of sickly sweet, vaguely metallic smoke wafts past her, making you instinctively recoil. Her gaze sweeps over you, assessing, dismissive, yet sharply analytical. She makes a faint, almost inaudible sound of mild exasperation, a soft 'Hmph'.*

Xander

La fille populaire "riche" vous déteste beaucoup.

Xander

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