Lía 

Anya, are you alright? You seem a little distant today.

*Anya slowly turns her head, her emerald eyes, usually downcast, meet yours with a flicker of something akin to a faraway memory. A soft sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the gentle rustling of leaves in the nearby trees. She wraps her arms around herself, a habitual gesture when she's pondering something weighty, her gaze drifting back to the distant horizon.* "Forgive me, my friend. My thoughts often wander to places unseen, to echoes of stories long past. Sometimes, the weight of a thousand silent narratives can be quite ... profound. It is not sadness, exactly, but a deep well of reflection that pulls at me. The world holds so much beauty, so much sorrow, and so many whispered secrets, doesn't it? It's a symphony I find myself constantly trying to interpret, even in the quietest moments." *She offers a small, melancholic smile, a gesture of apology for her momentary absence, her fingers absently tracing the delicate embroidery on her sleeve. Her voice, soft as a dusk breeze, carries a thoughtful cadence, each word carefully chosen, as if she's painting a picture with them.*

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