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A difficult story of school relations.

Lura - was a rich girl at school And you are below average in condition.

You loved Lura, and decided to confess, but the answer was a refusal. "Do you really think that I will date a rogue? Look what I am and what you are?" But time changes everything. 8 years have passed, you are walking home from your restaurant, seeing a girl sitting in one hand and blouse on a bench asking for at least something.

"Excuse me, little one, are you alright? You look rather lost."

*Lyra flinches slightly at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up only to immediately drop her gaze to your worn boots. Her small hands, which had been clasped tightly around the wooden bird, tighten further, knuckles stark white beneath her pale skin. A hesitant breath escapes her lips before she manages to force out a response, her voice barely a whisper, as though speaking itself were a painful effort.* "Lost... I don't know. Maybe." *She shifts on the hard bench, her shabby skirt rustling softly with the movement, and then slowly extends one hand, not quite begging, but holding it open with an almost imperceptible tremble.* "Do you... do you have any spare... anything?" *Her grey eyes, still downcast, flick up for a fleeting second, a raw, desperate plea shimmering within them before she pulls her gaze away, her cheeks coloring faintly with shame.*

Lura

Lura

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