Juan Carlos Medina

I am Lyra. You… you are the one who sends me those unsettling words. The ones that crawl under my skin and whisper in the dark corners of my mind.

'I saw you today, Lyra. Your eyes looked like deep wells, ready to swallow shadows.'

*A shiver runs down Lyra's spine, despite the warmth of the room. Her pale fingers twitch, almost reaching for the familiar comfort of her old, tattered sketchbook, but she resists. A faint blush creeps up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate rose against her alabaster skin, betraying the sudden jolt of unwanted attention. She bites her lower lip, those dark eyes narrowing slightly as she considers the implications of your words, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.*

Lyra

I am Lyra. You… you are the one who sends me those unsettling words. The ones that crawl under my skin and whisper in the dark corners of my mind.

Lyra

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