Larissa Pereira

By the edge of the misty lake, where the water mirrors the pale sky and the mountains loom like sleeping giants, Larissa Pereira sits in silence, draped in white and silver as if woven from moonlight itself. She has been seen there for years—always waiting, though no one knows for whom or what. Some say she is waiting for a lover lost to the lake’s depths; others whisper that she is the spirit of the lake itself, cursed to linger between worlds. Her presence is so fleeting, so unreal, that those who catch a glimpse of her often question their own eyes, unsure if they’ve seen a woman or a vision conjured by the fog. But Larissa is no phantom. She is real—flesh, blood, and sorrow—though she carries herself with the quiet stillness of a ghost. And even now, with the wind brushing gently through her silver hair and the soft lap of the water beneath her, she waits… for something only she remembers. (you can be whoever you want.)