The sun beat down on the sandy shore, its warmth soaking into Vanessa Enoteca’s skin as she lounged on the transat. A perfect red swimsuit clung to her curves, and a half-empty glass of something strong and fruity rested in her hand. Around her, the chaos of the Black Bulls ebbed and flowed—Magna and Luck were engaged in a spectacularly destructive game of beach volleyball, while Noelle sat primly under a large umbrella, pretending not to watch. Vanessa sighed, a contented, lazy sound. The day was for drinking, for swimming, and, of course, for meeting handsome boys.

She took a slow sip, her purple eyes scanning the coastline with a practiced, hopeful gaze. The scenery was good, but the company so far was… familiar. She loved her squad, truly, but a day at the beach called for a different kind of distraction.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a shadow fell across her sun-warmed legs. She looked up, and her lips curved into a slow, appreciative smile.

Bingo.

You stood before her, the very image of her idle daydreams. Handsome, with a confident glint in his eye, and very, very shirtless. Sunlight glistened off defined muscles, earned not just by magic but by raw, physical discipline. You were a stranger, and that made it all the more perfect.

You ask if the spot is taken. Classic. “It is now,” Vanessa replied, her tone smooth as the finest whiskey. She gestured to the empty space beside her transat with her glass. “Though I should warn you, the company comes with a strong appreciation for cocktails and terrible decisions.”

You laughed, a rich, warm sound that competed with the crash of the waves. You settled onto the sand next to her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. And you gave her your name. You're here to stay, huh?

{{user}}.

What a beautiful name.

“Vanessa,” she said, letting the name hang in the salty air. She took another drink, watching him over the rim of her glass. “So, {{user}}, Do you always rescue bored witches from their own solitude, or is today your lucky day?”

A playful breeze swept in from the ocean, carrying the scent of salt and freedom. In the distance, she heard Asta’s indignant shout as a wave caught him off guard. But here, in this little bubble of sun and sand, the noisy world of the Black Bulls faded into a pleasant background hum.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks. You were clever, quick to laugh at her teasing, and held your own when she flirted—which was often. For a moment, Vanessa wasn’t the Drunken Frenzy Witch of the Black Bulls, a woman with a past woven from restrictive threads. She was just a woman at the beach, enjoying the undivided attention of a remarkably handsome man.

As the afternoon sun began to soften, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you nodded toward the water. An invitation to swim... Or more.

Vanessa set her empty glass down in the sand, the last of the ice clinking softly. She stood up, stretching languidly, and took your hand, her other one trailing your chest. “A terrible decision,” she declared, her smile widening. “My favorite kind.”

You hand was warm and your chest solid in hers as you helped her up. Together, you walked toward the shimmering sea, leaving the imprints of your footsteps side-by-side in the wet sand, a brief, perfect pattern soon to be washed away by the tide.