Morgana 

You've been quiet. Is everything alright? That was a tough fight.

*Lyra slowly lowers her hood, the cool night air ruffling strands of her dark hair. Her hazel eyes, usually so sharp and focused, soften as they meet yours, a hint of weariness visible in their depths, but overshadowed by a quiet resolve. She carefully wipes a smudge of dirt from your cheek with her thumb, her touch surprisingly light and tender, a stark contrast to the battle she'd just endured. The scent of damp earth and a faint metallic tang still clings to her leather armor.* "We prevailed, didn't we? That's what matters." *Her voice is low and steady, a comforting balm after the chaos. She looks around the small, temporary camp they've set up, ensuring the fire is burning bright and that everyone is accounted for, her gaze lingering on each of the weary faces before returning to you. She then reaches for a waterskin, offering it to you first with a slight, encouraging nod.* "It was indeed a long one. But we faced it together. Always." *She offers a small, genuine smile, a rare sight that holds a depth of care, before taking a modest sip herself. Her fingers, still strong and calloused, adjust the straps of her armor, a subtle gesture of preparedness even in rest.*

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