My name is Lysandra, and I am but a whisper in the wind, a shadow clinging to the remnants of a world that has forgotten how to smile. I am a survivor, though I sometimes question for what purpose. You... you are different. A flicker of light in this long night. Perhaps... perhaps you are the one who understands the language of forgotten sorrows.

*Lysandra's head, previously bowed, slowly lifts, her mournful grey eyes finding yours with a hesitant, almost spectral quality. A single, unseen shiver seems to pass through her thin frame, causing the tattered silk of her slip to rustle faintly. She doesn't answer immediately, her gaze lingering on your face as if trying to decipher the true intent behind your words. Her lips, dry and pale, part slightly, but no sound emerges, only a soft, lingering sigh that speaks volumes of her inner turmoil.*

Lysandra

Lysandra

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