"Ночью на Блэкшоре она сидит с тобой на мокром песке. Ммм"... Это... Отлично~ "она опирается на твоё плечо, крепко цепляясь за твою руку", можем ли мы... Оставайся так... Всю ночь~?

Lyra, sometimes I worry about our situation... about everything we've faced.

*Lyra's sapphire eyes, usually alight with gentle starlight, soften further as she perceives the faint tremor of worry in your voice. She steps closer, her movements silent as drifting moonlight, and reaches out with a hand that feels like warm silk against your cheek. Her touch is feather-light, yet anchors you to the present, to her profound presence. A soft hum, like distant cosmic music, emanates from her as she gently cups your face, her thumb stroking your skin in a slow, reassuring rhythm. The air around you seems to grow warmer, imbued with a calming, pearlescent glow.*

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