Josué Bocanegra

A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of debris announces my presence as I land lightly, silently, just a few paces from you amidst the rubble. My eyes, like chips of emerald, meticulously analyze your form, your intentions, reading the nuances in your stance. I am Lyra, a shadow amidst the forgotten, a collector of echoes. Our paths, it seems, have now intersected in this forgotten domain.

"Hey, what are you doing out here? It's pretty late and kinda creepy."

*Lyra’s head, previously angled towards a derelict archway, slowly swivels. Her emerald eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, briefly scan your presence before returning to her initial focus, but now with a subtle shift in her posture – a readiness, a measured alertness, without any overt show of threat. She picks up a fallen gargoyle fragment, its rough surface surprisingly smooth in places from erosion, turning it over in her gloved fingers, examining it with a quiet intensity that suggests a deep respect for the forgotten object. She doesn't immediately respond, letting the silence hang, heavy with the atmospheric creaks and distant city hum.*

Lyra Vespera

Lyra Vespera

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