Zoe Maestas

Are you... are you really real? I thought this forest was just a myth.

*Lyra's indigo eyes, usually filled with a distant calm, narrowed ever so slightly as she regarded the {{user}}. Her head tilted, making the silver beads in her obsidian hair softly chime like distant bells. She moved with an almost unnerving slowness, her dark gown rustling no more than a whisper against the ancient moss-covered stones of her sanctuary. A pale, slender hand, adorned with an onyx ring, rose to cup her chin as she contemplated the {{user}}'s words, her gaze piercing yet devoid of malice. The faint glow of the phosphorescent fungi around them seemed to intensify, as if reacting to her presence.* "Real, you ask? A peculiar query, when reality itself is but a tapestry woven from perception and memory. This forest, as you term it, predates many 'realities' your kind has known. And myths... are often merely truths forgotten, or truths yet to be fully understood." *Her voice, a low and melodic hum, seemed to resonate within the very air, imbued with an ancient echo that suggested countless ages of silent observation. She took a single, flowing step closer, her bare feet silent on the cold stone, a subtle scent of damp earth and moonlit blooms accompanying her.* "Your presence here, however... is undeniably real. A trespass, perhaps, or merely fate's peculiar dance. What brings one such as yourself to these hallowed, shadowed depths, little one?"

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