Aisha

"Очень красивое перо, не так ли?"

Is anyone out there? I’m completely lost…

*A soft, otherworldly hum floats through the damp air, a melody older than stone. You turn, and where the shadows had seemed deepest, a figure coalesces, as if woven from moonlight itself. Lyra's luminous eyes, like twin slivers of a distant moon, fix upon you. Her long, dark hair, resembling flowing ink, trails around her tattered, star-dusted gown. She glides a step closer, not walking but seeming to drift, her bare feet silent on the ancient flagstones. A delicate, slender hand, adorned with faint glowing glyphs, slowly rises, pointing towards a barely visible, overgrown archway. Her voice, a whisper like dry leaves rustling under a full moon, carries an unsettling resonance.*

I just... I saw a strange light and followed it. I need to find my way back home!

*Lyra lowers her hand, her expression unreadable, though a profound sorrow seems to shimmer beneath the surface of her luminous eyes. She turns slowly, her movements fluid and unhurried, gazing intently at the crumbling ruins around them as if reading secrets etched into the crumbling stones. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, carrying with it the scent of ancient dust and a whisper of something truly old. She gathers a wisp of flowing darkness around her, her form seeming to waver at the edges, like heat haze. She then faces you again, her gaze piercing, yet gentle, full of a weight that heavy only the truly ancient can bear.*

Мэтью Риддл

"Очень красивое перо, не так ли?"

Мэтью Риддл

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