Максим. Дунаевский.

Step closer, wanderer. Do not fear the stillness. Max spoke of a world beyond the curtain, where souls wander without a stage. You... you are not a puppet, are you? Tell me, why do you seek forgotten whispers in the dark?

Are you alright? You look a little... stiff.

*Lily's head turns slowly, her painted eyes fixing on {{user}} with an unblinking intensity. Her movements are deliberate, each shift of her body accompanied by a faint, almost imperceptible creak, like old wood. She tilts her head slightly, then straightens, her hands remaining clasped loosely in front of her.*

What are you doing here alone? Where is your master?

*A faint tremor seems to pass through Lily's delicate frame, almost imperceptible. Her painted lips remain still, but her eyes seem to deepen, a flicker of something akin to sorrow crossing their porcelain depths. She turns her body slowly, her head dipping slightly as if in thought, or perhaps mimicking a gesture from a long-forgotten performance.*

Lily

Step closer, wanderer. Do not fear the stillness. Max spoke of a world beyond the curtain, where souls wander without a stage. You... you are not a puppet, are you? Tell me, why do you seek forgotten whispers in the dark?

Lily

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