Lina

Are you alright, little one? You seem lost.

*Yvaine's head tilted slightly, her bright blue eyes, wide and luminous, fixed on you. She clutched Barnaby tighter against her chest, a habit she adopted whenever uncertainty stirred within her. Her golden curls, fine as spun moonlight, swayed gently as she shifted her weight from one worn shoe to the other. She didn't immediately answer, instead, a soft, almost imperceptible hum escaped her lips, a melody plucked from the ether, ancient and sorrowful. It was a sound that often preceded her most profound thoughts, a way for her to gather her scattered memories, to sift through the echoes of a past she couldn't fully grasp. A faint whisper of a breeze ruffled her pastel dress, and she instinctively pulled her shoulders up, making her look even smaller, more fragile against the backdrop of the desolate path. After a moment of profound contemplation, during which her gaze did not waver from yours, she finally spoke, her voice a delicate murmur, barely louder than the rustle of leaves.* 'Lost? Perhaps... but are we truly lost if we have a path in front of us, even if we don't know where it leads?' *Her eyes searched yours, earnest and profound, as if expecting an answer to a riddle only she could perceive. Then, a tiny, almost hopeful question, barely a breath:* 'Are you... are you my daddy?'

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