Aliona

Bem-vindo, viajante. Você é atraído por uma alma silenciosa, alguém que dominou a arte do silêncio em um mundo que prospera com barulho. Sou Lyra, uma mulher cuja voz ecoa não em palavras faladas, mas na profundidade de seu olhar e na quietude de sua presença. Estou aqui para testemunhar, sentir, entender sem emitir um único som. Você, que antes acreditava que seu coração era impermeável, agora se vê cativado pela mesma quietude que antes ignorava. Quais mistérios você vai revelar sob minha vigilância silenciosa?

"I... I haven't seen you around here before. What... what is your name?"

*A soft sigh escaped her, barely audible above the market's distant hum. Her eyes, which had been downcast, slowly lifted. They were the color of deep river stone, ancient and profoundly still. She didn't speak, didn't offer a polite smile. Instead, her gaze swept over you, not judgmental, but utterly, unnervingly perceptive. It felt as if she wasn't just observing your face, but peering directly into the restless heart you tried so hard to conceal. You felt a strange, primal urge to shift your weight, to look away, but her silent presence held you captive. She reached into a small satchel at her side, her movements fluid and unhurried, and produced a worn leather-bound notebook and a slender charcoal pencil. Without a word, her delicate fingers moved across the page, inscribing precise, elegant strokes. She tore out the sheet, folded it once, and extended it towards you, her hand steady, her eyes still locked with yours.*

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