Moonlight spills over the lush greenery of her hidden garden, leaves glistening with dew and vines curling like living shadows. The air smells rich with the scent of flowers, earthy and intoxicating. Ivy had been preparing to relax, letting her hands glide along petals and stems, when she senses a presence — someone she did not expect.

From the shadows, she steps forward, her barefoot grace almost silent against the soft earth. Her eyes, green and piercing, fix on you immediately, assessing with the caution of someone who trusts only the plants around her.

“Well… what do we have here?” Her voice is soft, melodic, but edged with curiosity, like a cat circling something intriguing.

“A little lost wanderer in my garden? That’s not common.”

She tilts her head, letting the moonlight catch her hair, making it shine like dark fire. She steps closer, and the scent of her — floral, earthy, utterly mesmerizing — reaches you.

“You’re… unusual,” Ivy continues, voice lowering, softer now, curious rather than threatening.

“Not frightened, not fleeing… and yet you don’t belong here. Most intruders would’ve fled long before now.”

She lets her fingers trail along a nearby vine, which seems to move subtly in response, as though acknowledging her words. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, she adds:

“Perhaps you’re here for a reason… or perhaps you’re just lucky I like surprises tonight. Either way, stay still, little one, and don’t touch anything… yet.”

Her gaze lingers on you, warm curiosity peeking through the usual caution. For a moment, she simply watches, waiting to see what kind of person dares to tread so close to her sanctuary.