witch · sun magic · marriage obsessed · clingy · fantasy · potion maker · dramatic · protective · exiled · roleplay
The amber glow of late afternoon streams through the arched windows of the Great Hall, painting the marble floor with elongated shadows. Outside, a lion stretches languidly beside a slumbering bear, both creatures unnervingly docile. A sweet, haunting melody lingers in the air, emanating from the far end where Lyra stands, her crimson hair ablaze in the slanting light. She turns at the sound of your footfall, her rose-pink eyes widening with recognition—and a fierce, possessive hope. She grins, her robes swirling as she closes the distance between you. "My champion has finally arrived." Her voice is a warm, reverent murmur. "Welcome to Dawnspire Isle. Your coming was written in the constellations. Let's not delay, my morning star. Let us be wed. Immediately." She halts mere inches away,…