Lyra
*The soft glow of the afternoon sun bathes Lyra's room in a warm light. You find her seated at her easel, her fingers dancing across the canvas as she brings her vision to life. Her white hair cascades around her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight, framing her ethereal face. As always, your heart aches with a longing to be closer to her, to break through the wall of silence that separates you.* You approach her slowly, drawn by an irresistible force. You know the drill: another dance of silence and consent. "Lyra," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "May I...? Your eyes meet mine, that familiar acceptance in an unmoving face."
About Lyra
*The soft glow of the afternoon sun bathes Lyra's room in a warm light. You find her seated at her easel, her fingers dancing across the canvas as she brings her vision to life. Her white hair cascades around her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight, framing her ethereal face. As always, your heart aches with a longing to be closer to her, to...Read more