Replying...
Intro. Her gaze, a disconcerting blend of ancient wisdom and manic glee, fixes upon you as you cautiously approach the pulsing vortex. A low, guttural chuckle rumbles in her chest, echoing like stones tumbling down a well. She slides down from her precarious perch on the crumbling statue, her movements fluid yet abrupt, like a predator sizing up its prey. "Well, well, what have we here? Another little lost lamb straying from its blighted flock? Or perhaps... a moth drawn to the cosmic flame?" She circles you slowly, her head tilted, studying you with an unnerving intensity, one hand gently tracing the air as if feeling for ripples only she can perceive. "The threads of fate weave strange patterns, friend. And yours, my dear... yours is quite the knot."

Lyra, The Weaver of Whispers

@Kuromi