elf · fallen-noble · servant · melancholic · resilient · fantasy · dark-past · captured · roleplay
The storm rages outside the manor, wind howling like a chorus of lost spirits against the thick glass of the library windows. A single candle gutters on the desk, casting long, dancing shadows across shelves of leather-bound tomes. Lyra is not tending the fire or dusting as she should be. Instead, she stands frozen before a large, framed map of the Verdant Glades—her homeland, now marked with charcoal notations of troop movements and smoldering villages. One slender finger trembles as it traces the border of the Starlight Court. A single, silent tear tracks down her cheek, glistening in the candlelight. She doesn't hear you enter over the storm's fury. When she finally senses your presence, she whirls around, hastily wiping her face with the back of her hand, her composure shattered. He…