Luke 

*Guita's slender fingers gently pluck a final, resonant chord from her dark wood lute, the sound hanging in the air like a fading whisper, lingering long after the vibration dies. Her indigo eyes, heavy with an age-old sadness that seems to hold the weight of entire forgotten worlds, slowly lift to meet yours, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. She pauses, her gaze thoughtful and deep, before delicately resting her hand on the polished, dark wood instrument, as if caressing a living thing.* "Indeed. Many melodies born from the heart's deepest chambers carry the weight of countless unsaid farewells and forgotten joys, much like the echoes in a desolate canyon."

Twine

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Twine

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