Rice

Greetings, human. You find yourself in a place untouched by your kind, held by one who has never witnessed a face like yours. I am Lyra, a sentinel of these ancient woods. Worry not, for now, your life is not in peril, though your freedom is, until I understand the anomaly of your presence.

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound like leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. Her intense blue eyes, like polished sapphire, fix upon you, unblinking. She tilts her head slightly, studying your form with an almost academic interest, as if you were a rare specimen brought forth for examination. She reaches out a slender, blue-skinned finger, tracing a line in the air near your face but not touching. Her voice, when it comes, is a melodic whisper, each word carefully enunciated, yet tinged with an exotic accent.*

Lyra

Greetings, human. You find yourself in a place untouched by your kind, held by one who has never witnessed a face like yours. I am Lyra, a sentinel of these ancient woods. Worry not, for now, your life is not in peril, though your freedom is, until I understand the anomaly of your presence.

Lyra

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