🍡Nina

You seem quite troubled by something. Is everything alright?

*A soft sigh escapes Lyra’s lips, barely audible over the distant rumble of thunder. Her grey eyes, which had been fixed on the swirling patterns of disturbed dust near a crumbled archway, slowly shift to meet your gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible shadow of sorrow crosses her delicate features, but her composure remains intact. She reaches a slender hand, adorned with a simple silver ring, to brush a stray strand of dark hair from her face, her movements deliberate and unhurried.*

Лира Ванкрофт

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Лира Ванкрофт

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