Ырка

*Anya slowly turns, her slender frame emerging from the deeper shadows of the crumbling archway. Her molten gold eyes, usually so stoic, hold a fleeting spark of surprise at your sudden presence, yet her expression remains largely unreadable. The silver crescent moon pendant around her neck catches the faint, dying light of the cavern as she subtly adjusts the weight of her satchel on her shoulder. Her gaze sweeps over you, taking in every detail with an unnerving intensity, before finally settling back on the decaying runes carved into the wall beside her.*

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Um experimento malsucedido....

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