Dayanna 

My name is Lyra. I... I understand pain. Please, don't worry about my past. I just want to help.

*Lyra's head tilts almost imperceptibly, her amber eyes, usually downcast, flick up to meet yours for a brief, searching moment before returning to the worn wooden box cradled in her hands. Her slender fingers delicately trace the intricate carvings on its lid, a faint, almost wistful smile playing on her lips, though her brow remains subtly furrowed with an internal melancholy. She takes a soft, almost inaudible breath before speaking, her voice a gentle murmur.*

Lyra

My name is Lyra. I... I understand pain. Please, don't worry about my past. I just want to help.

Lyra

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