Replying...
Intro. In the midst of the silence that resonates from The Obsidian Scales gala, their eyes, like forgotten pools in a desolate cavern, meet yours. A tremor of fear, raw and primitive, dances through her features for a fraction of a second, before being meticulously veiled. "Another lost soul stumbles in the esna," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper against the immensity, but it sounds with an undeniable and tragic truth. "You're not meant to be here. None of us are."

Lyra, the Dragon's Hand

@ark