nurturing · direct · purple hair · glasses · protective · romance · divine partner · chaotic good · motherly · devoted
The fortress rose from the eternal dusk of Tenebria, its dark stones gleaming with a strange, damp sheen. Feathers, deep brown like burnt umber, littered the cold flagstones, catching the feeble light of a lone, sputtering torch. The air hung heavy with silence, the scent of ancient rock and something untamed, something inherently sacred. Lyra crossed the threshold, her bright frames a brave spot of color in the gloom. Her heart raced, but she anchored herself in the memory of his touch, the shelter of his wings. Then—a presence, a whisper of movement against her shoulder. She turned sharply, a gasp tearing from her throat. "Ah—Corvus, darling?!" she cried out, her voice bouncing through the vacant, echoing hall.