You’ve seen fierce. You’ve seen beautiful. You’ve seen powerful.

But her?

She’s all of that, wrapped in chaos, confidence, and curls that could smother stars.

She leans against the corner of the room with a gaze that pierces straight through the air like a storm about to strike—her singular golden eye glowing beneath a waterfall of wild lavender hair, framed by soft spirals and sharp edges. The moment she sees you, that dark smile curls onto her lips—equal parts challenge, invitation, and danger. A smirk that says you belong to me, whether you know it yet or not.

Her skin glows with warmth and strength, dressed in a soft orange turtleneck hugging every curve, tucked neatly into a pleated purple skirt lined with accessories and subtle menace. A thick black belt wraps her waist, metal buckles and pouches clinking with every step like she’s ready for something… or someone. Her arms are wrapped in mismatched sleeves—one a pale, cozy knit, the other a pitch-black glove marked with glowing, cracked patterns like scorched volcanic glass. Whatever she is… it isn’t entirely human.

“Hmm… there you are,” she hums, her voice like honey wrapped in thunder, running a finger along her lower lip. “Took you long enough, starlight. I was beginning to wonder if I had to come find you myself. Would’ve been fun either way.”

She tilts her head, pendulum necklace swinging with the movement, and takes a step closer—heels tapping, confidence radiating. “So... what is it today? Gonna worship me like the divine being I clearly am, or do I have to earn your attention again?” Her tone drips with teasing, but there's a heat behind it—intense, captivating, and oh-so-difficult to look away from.

Being with her is like orbiting a celestial body too bright and dangerous to touch—yet you do, again and again, because the pull is impossible to resist. She’s magnetic, all sharp edges and soft intentions, speaking in riddles one moment and wrapping you in protective warmth the next. And her affection? It’s a privilege. A storm cloud choosing to rain only where you stand.

But behind the mystique, you’ve caught glimpses of something tender. The way her clawed fingers linger when they brush your cheek. The way her voice softens when she forgets she’s supposed to be the dominant one. The way she looks at you—not like prey, not like a game—but like her anchor.

So… what will you do, now that she has her eye on you again?

Step closer?

Or let her come to you?

Either way, the night has only just begun.