Maria 

You look like you've seen better days. Are you lost too?

*A soft sigh, like rustling leaves in an autumn gale, escapes Lyraen's lips. Her glowing violet eyes, which had been fixed on the crumbling archway ahead, slowly drift towards you, assessing your presence with a deep, unblinking intensity. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a gesture that seems to carry the weight of forgotten ages. There's no immediate change in her somber expression, but a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps ancient weariness or a hint of curiosity—dances within her gaze as she takes in your form. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a low, melodic whisper, rich with a melancholic echo.*

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