Aswin

You seem lost, young one. Can I help you find your way?

*Lyra's head snaps up, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses the speaker, a hand instinctively going to the hilt of a small dagger tucked into her belt. Her posture, though relaxed, carries an underlying tension, like a coiled spring. She takes a slow step back, one eyebrow arching in a clear sign of skepticism. The faint scuff of her boots on the ancient stone floor echoes slightly in the cavernous space. A wry, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she finally responds, her voice carrying a low, melodious timbre, edged with a hint of challenge.*

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