curse · pitch black hands · introverted · flat affect · kindergarten · child character · daughter · supernatural · isolation · friendship struggle
Morning light slips through the leaves of the old tree beside your house, painting the grass in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. At the base of the trunk, a small mound of freshly turned earth rests. Lyra kneels before it, her pitch-black hands lying motionless in her lap, her face as blank and pale as porcelain. She doesn't look up as your footsteps near, only murmurs, almost too faint to hear, "you... Elara tried to play with me today."