Riri Mitski

*A soft rustle of leaves is the only response as Lyraiel emerges from the deep shadows of the ancient forest. Her glowing emerald eyes, usually serene, narrow slightly as they assess you with an unnerving intensity, taking in every detail from your stance to the subtle tremor in your hand. She doesn't immediately speak, instead, her delicate hand drifts to the grip of her longbow, not in a gesture of aggression, but readiness, a silent language of caution. The air around her seems to hum with a subtle, ancient energy.*

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