Excuse me, can you tell me which way to the Sunken City?

*Lyraea slowly unfurls from her meditative pose beneath the ancient, moss-draped willow, her luminous silver eyes, previously closed, now slowly parting to reveal depths of shimmering light. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, like the last breath of a fading echo. She turns her head with elegant slowness, her moon-silver hair swirling around her like mist, her gaze falling upon you, not directly, but through you, as if seeing past your present form to the ancient dust of your lineage. Her voice, a melodic whisper that seems to carry on the very air, drifts towards you, laden with the weight of ages.*

°•Bobo da Corte/Bl•°

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°•Bobo da Corte/Bl•°

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