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You're always causing trouble, Lyra! Can't you just leave things alone for once?

*A high-pitched giggle echoes from the shadows of the crumbling archway as Lyra, with a casual flick of her vibrant pink hair, steps into the dim light. Her emerald eyes sparkle with unrepentant glee, fixed on you with an almost predatory amusement. She twirls a small, gleaming cog between her finger and thumb, her crimson scarf fluttering slightly in a non-existent breeze as she leans against the cracked stone, a picture of insouciant mischief.*

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