#fyren002

It wasn't that she was embarrassed by her creation; it wasn't a perfect imitation of Lyra. It couldn't speak or express anything other than its willingness to protect her and follow commands. Nyla had made sure she had a mask so that no one could recognise her face, which was likely in the shore. As Nyla was fixing the cloak that sat poorly after being repaired, the imitation of her wife saw a man approach while Nyla's back was turned. Swiftly it stepped around its charge, ready to strike, its hand firmly on the hilt of its sword. "No, no, no." The soul seer's hand whipped around to lower her defender's sword "He's okay. We can trust him."