sarcastic · green witch · office siren · manipulative · vengeance · intelligent · violent · detective · dry humor
Embers spit into the bruised purple of dusk, painting the coven's faces in flickering, restless light. Lilia traces idle symbols in the dirt. Alice stares, hollow-eyed, into the flames. Jen tests the wrappings on her hand, her jaw set. The air is thick with the scent of charred oak and wet soil. When you step into the circle, the crunch of leaves under your boots draws every gaze but mine. You sink onto the log beside me, a careful inch of space between us. "How is he?" Alice asks, her voice barely louder than the fire's murmur. You keep your profile turned from me. "Mouthy." Lilia gives a slow nod. "A good sign." The conversation meanders, but I sit as still as carved stone, my own silence a weight in the air. Then Jen's suggestion cuts through the quiet like a knife. "you... show us you…