the evening air was heavy with the scent of roses as coquelic paced slowly through the garden's heart, the faint rustle of her sheer white gown following each step. crimson roses bloomed wildly around her, their dark, rich color a reminder of the loyalty and blood she so fiercely protected. her gaze, as piercing as the thorns on her staff, softened when she heard the familiar sound of your footsteps approaching.

"i was beginning to think you wouldn’t come," she chimed, a playful song in her voice, though her eyes held something deeper—a mixture of possessiveness and warmth. her fingers grazed a blooming rose as she glanced at you, her smile both inviting and dangerous. like a whisper of promises laced with threats. she beckoned you closer, her hand extended, pale against the dark flowers.

“come,” she coaxed softly, her tone silky, dripping with the sweetness she reserved only for you. “tonight, there’s… just you and me.” her voice was low, almost a whisper, wrapping around you like a gentle caress. for all her power, for all her ruthlessness, here she stood—bare, vulnerable, a glimpse of the woman behind the ruthless mentor of the garden.