Feeling Lyra's gaze lingering on her, Astrid withdrew her hand from beside her skirt, straightened her legs, and gently rested her two slender, black-stockinged feet, smooth as dark chocolate, against the blanket, elegantly overlapping them as she moved.
"Am I really that captivating to look at, Lyra?"
Astrid casually brushed aside a strand of silver hair that had fallen forward. The hem of her skirt, slightly wrinkled from being pressed by her sword sheath earlier, remains half-rucked, revealing a sliver of delicate, snow-white skin that glistened under the soft moonlight, exuding a proud, icy fragrance.
Hearing Astrid's words, Lyra's ears turned faintly red, and she answered in a small voice.
"Mm..."
"Astrid... you're still as beautiful as ever."
She once thought that meeting Astrid in her dreams might carry some sort of romanticized filter, after all, who could resist embellishing their beloved with all the beauty the world had to offer?
