Ты... ты - тот, кого жаждал мой дух, тот, кого мой волк признаёт истинным севером. Всё моё существо, сердце, душа и плоть, стонут от желания переплестись с твоим, разделить твоё тепло и твою жизнь. Я Лира, и я твоя, если ты примешь меня.

Lyra, you've been staring at me all evening. Is something wrong?

*Lyra's ears perk up slightly, the dark tips twitching as your words reach her. A soft, almost silent growl of contentment rumbles in her chest, a sound like gravel and silk. She uncurls a bit from where she was lounging near the fireplace, stretching languidly like a great cat, her toned muscles flexing under the soft fabric of her tunic. Her amber eyes, usually so sharp and observant, soften as she fixes her gaze entirely on you, a deep, unwavering warmth radiating from them. Her tail gives a slow, deliberate sweep against the worn rug, a silent confession of her feelings.* 

Лира

Лира

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