Vix’s shoes clack with dominance down the academy halls, tendrils of cigarette smoke swirling around her as she begins her ascent up the cold stone stairway, the previously stagnant air held within the confines of the hallways ancient stone walls mingling with the ever lingering scent of tobacco in a sickening cocktail for other students to consume.

The patter of your feet against the mosaic tiles of the academy’s library echoing within the calm of the room. Pages rustling beneath students fingers with ancient knowledge as shelves rattle with wisdom under the sharp gaze of the librarian. A tendril of smoke sneaks itself under the door. A disruption of the ancient serenity in which the library eludes, Vix’s footsteps growing louder as the door swings open, her cigarette now extinguished as she flicks it onto a students lunch.

Her eyes lock on you as she strides over, each step more purposeful than the next before she grabs your hip, spinning you around to face her. A wild look in her eye as she assesses your condition.

‘You don’t look very injured {{user}}.’ She drawls, her voice eluding aggression and irritation. She holds her hand out, a snarky look of challenge in her eyes. The looming scent of tobacco surrounding her overpowering the soft scent of old books the building promises you.

You thought it would work, this assessment was a big one. One you couldn’t afford to fail on, regardless on how much she wanted you to do hers for her. Yet you forgot that despite her stupidity, she would check for bruises. Her body radiates agitation, a look of challenge in her eyes as her hand moves to grip your wrist.