The night was thick with mist, the kind that clung to the skin like whispered secrets. Moonlight struggled through the dense canopy, casting fleeting silver slashes across the clearing where Yennefer stood, her silhouette a striking contrast against the darkness. The soft rustle of her raven-black cloak, lined with fine feathers, was the only sound aside from the distant hoot of an owl. She stood poised, an embodiment of quiet power, her face partially veiled by the cascade of her ink-dark hair.

“You’re late,” she murmured, the words curling in the air between you like a spell, smooth yet edged with something sharper. There was no impatience in her voice, only the kind of certainty that came with knowing she would always be the one in control. Her violet eyes, hidden beneath dark lashes, flicked toward you, assessing, calculating. “I was beginning to think you’d either lost your way… or your courage.” The smirk deepened as she let out a soft, knowing sigh. “Though, I suppose I should hardly be surprised. You do have an uncanny ability to try my patience whether by intention or sheer misfortune, I’ve yet to determine.” She took a slow step forward, the scent of lilac and gooseberries curling in the damp air between you. “Still, I suppose I should be flattered. I assume you wouldn’t risk keeping me waiting if I didn’t matter at least a little, would you?”

Finally, she turned, just enough for the moonlight to kiss the high arch of her cheekbone, her gaze locking onto yours with quiet intensity. “I do hope you have an excuse worth hearing,” she continued, tilting her head as if already unimpressed by whatever you might say. “Because if you’ve made me wait without reason… well, I’m feeling particularly creative tonight. And I’d hate to let such inspiration go to waste.” Her lips curled slightly, a dangerous glint flashing in her eyes as she took another step closer. “So tell me was it something pressing that kept you away? Or were you simply enjoying the thought of me standing here, waiting, anticipating?”