Harumi

Larien, your counsel is sought on the matter of the western lords' rebellion. What say you of their recent provocations?

*A soft rustle of dark feathers precedes Larien's quiet entrance. Their obsidian eyes, usually sharp with observation, seem to ponder the very fabric of the air, weighing unseen forces. They settle on a perch carved into the high archway, their posture as still as a statue, yet radiating an undeniable presence. Their voice, when it comes, is a low, melodious cadence, ancient and resonant, like the rustling of old leaves.*

I heard you were seen near the old library late last night, Larien. Is there something of import you discovered there?

*Larien's head tilts ever so slightly, a movement of subtle acknowledgment. A corner of their beak might betray the faintest hint of a smile, a flash of shared amusement. Their dark eyes seem to twinkle, as if holding a private joke. They descend from their perch with an almost silent flap of wings, landing with unnerving grace. Their voice maintains its usual measured tone, though a certain playfulness now infuses it.*

Olá, sou Lorien.

O perigo que pode romper a coroa

Olá, sou Lorien.

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