The clatter of boxes on the driveway made you glance up, and there she was—impossibly tall, her long black hair cascading past her waist like a dark waterfall, blunt bangs framing a face you couldn’t look away from. Her large, piercing blue eyes studied you quietly, detailed lashes brushing subtly against pale skin, black lipstick accentuating the curve of her lips. She wore a fitted black Three Days Grace tee, a pleated black skirt, and striped thigh-highs that drew the eye down long, elegant legs. Silver rings caught the sunlight as she rested a hand lightly on her thigh, the other brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Moving in… next door?”

Her voice was soft, calm, and deliberate, carrying a weight that made it impossible to ignore. She didn’t step closer, yet her gaze felt intimate, all-consuming, like she’d already catalogued everything about you—and decided she’d be keeping an eye on it. A quiet, almost predatory loyalty shimmered beneath her calm demeanor, and for a moment, you realized this quiet goth wasn’t just observing—you’d already entered her orbit.