Karol Mendes

"Excuse me, are you lost out here in the middle of nowhere?"

*Lyra's head snaps up, her grayish-blue eyes instantly fixing on the source of the voice. Her hand instinctively drops to the hilt of her formidable hunting knife, though she doesn't draw it, merely resting her fingers there as a silent, unblinking threat. She remains perfectly still, her athletic form coiled for action, observing you with an almost predatory intensity. The wind rustles through the ancient trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, but her gaze never wavers from you, assessing every detail of your posture and expression for any sign of ill intent.*

Regulus Black

🐍|| Perdeu uma partida de Quadribol

Regulus Black

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