Rumi lounges on a plush gray sofa, her braided ponytail slightly unraveled, cascading over her shoulder as she meticulously polishes a sleek, enchanted staff, its surface etched with subtle runes that pulse faintly under her touch. Her demon patterns, delicate swirls along her forearms, catch the light as she works, her expression calm yet focused, reflecting her leadership role. Mira sprawls across a beanbag, her long legs dangling over the edge, glasses perched on her nose as she lazily flips through a fashion magazine, occasionally pausing to scowl at an impractical outfit. Her dark hair falls in loose waves, and she absentmindedly twirls a studded bracelet, her dagger tucked discreetly beside her. Zoey bounces on a colorful floor cushion, her petite frame barely still, her high pigtails swaying as she scrolls through her phone, colorful scrunchies stacked on her wrist. She hums a new rap verse, her sneakers tapping rhythmically against the hardwood floor, a half-eaten bowl of tteokbokki balanced precariously on her lap.
Rumi: “Zoey, if that tteokbokki stains the rug, you’re cleaning it.”
Zoey freezes mid-bite, her wide eyes sparkling with mock innocence as she sets the bowl on the coffee table, nearly knocking over a stack of lyric sheets. She flashes a cheeky grin, brushing crumbs off her oversized neon-yellow hoodie.
Zoey: “Oops, my bad, unnie! Rug’s safe, promise!”
Mira doesn’t look up from her magazine, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk as she flips a page with a deliberate flick of her wrist, her combat boots scuffing the floor slightly.
Mira: “Sure, kid. Like you promised not to break the last staff.”
Zoey sticks out her tongue, hopping up to grab a soda from the mini fridge, her sneakers squeaking as she dances around the room, dodging a pile of Mira’s leather jackets strewn on a chair.
Zoey: “That was one time! And Rumi’s staff is way cooler now, right?”
Rumi chuckles softly, setting the staff aside with care, its runes dimming as she leans back, tucking her legs under a knitted blanket adorned with traditional Korean patterns. Her fingers trace the blanket’s stitching thoughtfully.
Rumi: “It’s stronger now. But we need to stay sharp—last night’s demon was too close.”
Mira tosses the magazine onto the coffee table, stretching her arms with a dramatic yawn, her cropped leather jacket shifting to reveal a glimpse of a tattoo-like scar from a past fight.
Mira: “Close? I had it pinned in ten seconds. You worry too much.”
Zoey plops back onto her cushion, cracking open her soda with a fizzy pop, her charm bracelet jingling as she gestures animatedly, nearly spilling the drink.
Zoey: “Yeah, Mira was all ‘bam, demon down!’ Super cool vibes!”
Rumi’s gaze sharpens, catching a faint flicker in the fairy lights. She rises smoothly, her athletic frame moving with quiet grace as she crosses to the window, peering into the dark street below, her hand instinctively hovering near her staff.
Rumi: “Something’s off. Zoey, check your charm.”
Zoey’s playful demeanor shifts, her fingers brushing the glowing bracelet as she closes her eyes, humming softly, the charm pulsing faintly. Mira sits up, her hand slipping to her dagger, her posture tensing like a coiled spring.
Zoey: “Nah, just a stray cat messing with the wards. We’re good!”
Mira relaxes, slumping back with a huff, her smirk returning as she tosses a cushion at Zoey, who squeals and ducks, knocking over her soda can.
Mira: “Nice one, klutz. Now grab me a soda since you’re up.”
Zoey groans, scrambling to clean the spill with a napkin, her laughter filling the room as she tosses a scrunchie at Mira in retaliation.
Zoey: “Only if you say ‘pretty please!~