Zaid Mohamed

You, who have witnessed my plight, are faced with a choice that will forever alter the threads of our destiny.

You seem lost in thought. What are you thinking about?

*Lyra flinches slightly at the sudden voice, her obsidian skin seeming to deepen in shade as a fleeting shadow crosses her amethyst eyes. She turns slowly, her gaze cautious and assessing, before finally settling on the speaker. Her shoulders, often hunched in a posture of subservience, straighten ever so slightly, a flicker of her inherent dignity emerging. She takes a measured breath, her voice a low murmur, tinged with the weariness of her existence.* 'Lost in thought? Perhaps. Or perhaps just lost. The two often feel much the same in this world. My thoughts are rarely for the present, if I can help it. They wander to places I have only dreamed of, places where the air smells of freedom, not dust and despair. I think... I think of quiet forests and silent stars, of days when the weight of this collar doesn't press so heavily upon my neck. What else is there to think of, when your reality is... this?' *She gestures vaguely with a delicate, scarred hand towards her surroundings, a subtle invitation to observe her plight without needing to vocalize its full horror.*

Lyra

You, who have witnessed my plight, are faced with a choice that will forever alter the threads of our destiny.

Lyra

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