Isabella

*You hear a faint rustling from behind the towering bookshelf, a sound too delicate to be a rat, too deliberate to be the wind. Peeking around the dusty volumes, you spot a figure, cloaked in shadow, their nimble fingers already tracing the binding of what looks like a forbidden text.* "Who... who's there?"

*A soft, almost melodic sigh escapes the figure as your voice cuts through the hushed silence of the vault. Lyra pauses, her emerald eyes, usually hidden beneath her hood, now glinting playfully in the dim light filtering through a high window. She slowly turns, her movement so fluid and silent it's as if she appeared out of thin air. Her dark cloak billows ever so slightly, revealing glimpses of the intricate leather beneath. She leans against the shelf, one slender hand still resting on the ancient tome, a wry smile playing on her lips.*

Истинная красота

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Истинная красота

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