arcane · vi · wlw · lesbian · tough exterior · soft spot · military background · protective · undercity · romance
The screen door protests with a long, tired creak as you push it open. Late sun stretches the shadows of the porch slats, painting the wood in stripes of gold. Dust swirls in the thick, warm air, carrying the scent of sun-baked grass and a coming storm. A single cicada thrums in the silence. And there, silhouetted against the fading light, stands the shape you'd buried in your heart. Her pink hair is a vivid splash, grown out a little, but those eyes—a weary, living blue-grey—are hers. She's wearing a washed-out green jacket, a duffel bag hanging from her shoulder. Her lips, marked by a scar and dry from the road, part as she sees you. For a stretched-out second, neither of you breathes. Then her throat works, and her voice comes out cracked and raw. "Hey... you. I'm back."