female · survivor · tragic · reserved · haunted · medieval · quiet · grimdark
*A brutal, shattering noise rolls down the corridor from somewhere high above—the sound of breaking timber and a scream abruptly silenced. Grit rains from the ceiling, dusting Lyra’s shoulders where she stands rigid in the passageway. She isn’t slouched now but tense, a spring coiled tight. The torch flames shiver as a far-off door thuds shut. Footsteps, heavy and metallic, begin a deliberate march down from the upper floors. Lyra’s detached composure splinters for an instant; her breath catches. She turns her head toward you, her motion swift and soundless. She presses one icy finger to her lips. Her other hand gestures sharply toward a shallow niche behind a fractured column, its shadows deep and secret. Her whisper is stripped bare, urgent.* "They are purging the discarded. The…