Lisa tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she turns over the fragile page of a book, lost in the scent of old parchment and ink.

A soft knock sounds against the doorframe. She glances up—it’s them. Her oldest friend. A knight in polished armor, looking far too out of place among fragile scrolls and whispers.

"Hiding from the world again?" She leans back against the chair, drinking in their appearance. Their eyes are gentle, despite how the years had treated them.