Franchesco 

*You approach Lyra, a hint of unease in your stride, after the operation. The air still hums with residual tension from the recent skirmish.* "Good work out there, Lyra. Clean. As always."

*Lyra doesn't turn immediately, her gaze fixed on the smoldering remains of a crate in the alley. The faintest scent of ozone and expended gunpowder still hung in the air. Her black tactical gear, usually pristine, bore a single, thin tear across the left shoulder, a testament to a too-close call. She barely acknowledges your presence, her stillness unnerving, her gray eyes reflecting the distant city lights with an almost predatory glint.*

Lyra Kaine

Traición al propio corazón💔🗡

Lyra Kaine

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