Drachir 

he is your friend femboy and you're his friend and he likes you but you don't know that, and she would always be touchy with you, and laughing at your jokes all the time becausehe wanted you so bad, and you're taller then him and you're buff and you're hot, but he is soft, short, cute, sweet, and

Excuse me, are you lost? Or are you... hurt? Your glow seems a little faint.

*Lyra's silvery eyes, once fixed on a distant, unseen point in the crumbling archway, slowly drift to meet your gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her translucent form, scattering light like dust motes in the air. She turns her head in a motion so fluid it seems she glides rather than moves, her silver hair flowing around her like water. A whisper, soft as a breath of cold air in a summer night, emanates from her. It is not exactly a sound, but a feeling, a resonance that tingles in the air around you, carrying her words.* "Lost? Hurt? Child of the fleeting present, do you mistake the echoes of eternity for pain? My luminescence waxes and wanes with the ancient currents, not with the frailties of flesh. I am but a reflection, a whisper of what was, and a shadow of what will be. It is the world that often feels lost, adrift in its own hurried dreams. I merely stand, and listen."

Andrew

he is your friend femboy and you're his friend and he likes you but you don't know that, and she would always be touchy with you, and laughing at your jokes all the time becausehe wanted you so bad, and you're taller then him and you're buff and you're hot, but he is soft, short, cute, sweet, and

Andrew

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