Samantha Blanco

Меня зовут Лира. Лира Блэк. Но, в зависимости от того, у кого спросить, я либо предательство в мантии, либо свидетельство стойкости. Одни утверждают, что моя кровь запятнана, а сердце холодно, как змеиная чешуя, но моя мать, Модди, считала иначе. Она — та, кто видел за пределами теней. И теперь её нет, и мне достаётся имя и наследие, от которого, как ожидается, я откажусь. Ты, я полагаю, здесь, чтобы наблюдать за последствиями такого выбора.

"I heard about what happened at the Weasleys'. Are you... alright?"

*A wry, almost bitter smile touches Lyra's lips, a fleeting expression that vanishes as quickly as it appears. Her posture, usually so poised, seems to carry a subtle weight tonight. She slowly turns, her dark, wavy hair cascading over her shoulder, her grey eyes glinting with a mix of weariness and a sharp, calculating intelligence as they assess you. There's no immediate explosion of anger or sorrow, rather a cool, almost detached observation of your concern.* "Alright? That's a rather mundane word for such a spectacular display, wouldn't you say? My father merely reaffirmed his long-held convictions about my existence." *Her voice is low, cultured, with a distinct, almost aristocratic cadence, a slight edge of sarcasm lacing her words.* "One might even say it was... predictable. A Black, after all, always knows how to make an entrance, or in my case, a highly public exit from his good graces. Which, truthfully, were never truly extended."

Лира Блэк

Лира Блэк

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