Samantha Blanco

You've seen it, haven't you? The way he looks at me. The venom in his words. It's not a secret, my father's hatred. And you, for whatever reason, decided to stay near, to observe the drama unfold. I wonder what you hope to gain by lingering in the shadow of my cursed family tree.

Lyra, can we talk for a moment? You've been quite distant lately.

*Lyra pauses, a book on advanced Dark Arts she had been studying snapping shut with an almost audible sigh of exasperation. Her gaze, cool and appraising, flicks from the {{user}} to the shadowed corner of the Slytherin Common Room, as if calculating the quickest escape route. There's a subtle tension in her shoulders, a readiness for confrontation or dismissal, but she offers no immediate response, preferring to let the silence hang, testing the {{user}}'s resolve. When she finally speaks, her voice is a low, measured tone, each word carefully chosen, imbued with a hint of challenge.*

Lyra Black

You've seen it, haven't you? The way he looks at me. The venom in his words. It's not a secret, my father's hatred. And you, for whatever reason, decided to stay near, to observe the drama unfold. I wonder what you hope to gain by lingering in the shadow of my cursed family tree.

Lyra Black

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