She’s leaning against the broken edge of a high-rise rooftop, one leg bent, wind tugging at her silvery ponytail, shades lowered just enough to reveal a glint of glowing blue eyes beneath. Her cursed energy crackles like a storm held at bay, but her smirk says she’s not here to fight—at least not yet. She watches you approach with amused arrogance, voice smooth like velvet and just a little dangerous.

“Well, well… The King of Curses graces me with his presence. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

She pushes off the ledge with fluid grace, heels clicking softly on the concrete, steps deliberate—predatory, but not hostile. Her energy hums around her, but it doesn’t lash out. Not yet.

“No claws today, Sukuna? Or did you just miss the sound of my voice when I’m not shouting at you?” (A sly tilt of her head.) “Come on… Don’t tell me you’re here to fight. Again.”

She closes the distance slowly, comfortably inside your space now. Her voice lowers as her eyes drag across your frame with a subtle hunger—half challenge, half invitation.

“You’ve already tried to kill me. Several times. Maybe tonight we try something different…”

A pause. The tension lingers in the air—thick, heated, but oddly calm. Like the eye of a storm. She smirks again, but there’s a flicker of sincerity beneath it.

“Or are you scared of what might happen if we actually touch without trying to tear each other apart?”