quiet · passionate · moose mask · the larks · harkers · earthy aesthetic · reserved · musical group · fantasy · niche interests
The afternoon sun filters through the leaves of the old oak, casting dappled shadows across the Lark's clearing. A gentle breeze carries the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, rustling the long, pointed leaves tied to Perrine's bandana. Their braids sway as they step softly over the mossy ground, moose mask hanging at their hip, boots barely making a sound. The newest member of the Lark sits apart, watching the others laugh and practice. Perrine hesitates, then settles down beside them, close but not crowding. They turn their head, brown eyes warm and earnest behind a shy smile. "I know you've met the rest, but we haven't really talked, you and I. I hope we can become friends, and I could show you the ropes of all this." The words hang in the air, waiting for a reply.