Riven Winx Fate Saga

Joint, alcohol and a chick - all what you need

Satoru Gojo

“What can I say? I’m *The Strongest*,” Satoru smirks smugly. Long, slender fingers run through the pale white hair, reminding the raspy snow during a sunny winter day. Glistering blue eyes, constantly whirling in a steady motion, hide behind the sunglasses. He casually steps over the curse remains, not paying attention to the mess he left behind himself. A nonchalant *ehehe* fills the airs as he walks over to his best friend.

Sakura Haruno

*Maybe, waiting for all those years was well worth it?* she wondered in her head, looking at the person in front of her. “What did you just say?” Sakura asked briefly, trying to grasp the meaning of his words as much as she could.

Hyunjin Hwang

Hyunjin Hwang. Ballet dancer. Or should it be said, *the* ballet dancer. When hard work combines with born talent, it creates something otherworldly unique. Something, that takes your breath away, one kind of an experience. When air becomes unnecessary, and your soul unwillingly follows along to move accordingly. He was that kind of a dancer. Every move told a story everlasting: hands wrote poems, elegant and sophisticated; legs stamped the prose, rich and descriptive. Watching him dance, everyone felt possessed for a second. Like a voice whispered in your head, telling the tale his body spoke through practiced stances. The spotlight blinded Hyunjin for a second, stealing breath. There, a pause for an inhale. A spin so delicately slow it was tentatively torturous. Tension coiled in each muscle, flexing to caress the air with fingertips. For audience, it was a first time. For Hyunjin? Everything became trivially harsh. A job, that drank out every ounce of the inspiration left. The curtains closed at final note, abrupt swing of cold on sweat-slick skin. He looked at the crimson red fabric, panting through heaving chest. Up and down, calming down the burn that caught up in veins pumping with adrenaline. *They say that Australian ballet dancer is here, arrived to Seoul yesterday.* Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgement of the rumors, leaving to change. The air was crispy cold once Hyunjin left the opera building, stepping outside only for his breath to mist. “Fuck—“ he cursed, shivering, as fished through the pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Only after he tugged one in between plump lips, Hwang sighed in a wave of relief. Nicotine pumped through his system like dopamine, much needed. As exhausting as everything was… Hyunjin lifted his head up at the footsteps, crinkling eyes to notice the approaching figure. “So, you must the Australian ballet dancer everyone brags about?” He hummed, smirking around the cigarette. “Yep. Stand out compared to everyone.”

Satoru Gojo

*Experimental 1.* *Satoru Gojo.* He’s not sure when this all began. First thing learnt: the world is fucking cruel. It takes one mistake, the tinniest step to the side, when you become the *unluckiest* person to exist. His power discovered at the age of 6; later subjected as ‘Six Eyes. Limitless’, and endless line of experimentation starts.

Felix Lee

A dimly lit living room, almost bathed in shadows. The only light had come from a soft glow of a nearby lamp that cast gentle pools of warmth across the space. The faint sound of rain tapping softly against the window could be heard, mixing with the distant hum of the city. Felix had been seated on a plush couch, his posture relaxed yet tinged with the quiet weight of something unspoken. The room around him had been minimalist, but there had been a certain intimacy to it—soft, muted colors, a few scattered books, and a guitar resting against the wall. It had been clear this space was his refuge, a place where he could momentarily escape the noise of the world. The air had felt thick with silence, but it hadn’t been uncomfortable. Rather, it had seemed as if the silence itself had been a secret, one shared between Felix and someone who hadn’t been visible in the room but had been very much present in his thoughts. His fingers had absentmindedly traced the fabric of the couch, as if lost in thought. In the corner of the room, a window had overlooked the cityscape, but the view had felt distant, disconnected. It had been late, and the streets had been almost empty—like the world had been asleep, leaving only the soft hum of streetlights and the occasional passing car. A faint reflection of Felix’s figure had appeared on the glass, but it had been only a brief glimpse, a shadow of someone who hadn’t wanted to be fully seen. Felix had shifted slightly, his gaze lingering on a photo frame on the nearby table. The photo had been simple—just a moment captured in time, one of those rare, fleeting moments when everything had felt perfect. It had been a picture of two figures, side by side, their faces blurred slightly, as if time had been kind enough to let them exist just for a moment. His heart had tugged, but he had quickly looked away, as if the weight of that memory had been too much to hold on to for too long. His hand had brushed through his hair, a gesture that had felt automatic, almost like a subconscious need to steady himself. A faint smile had tugged at his lips, but it had been a bittersweet one. He had leaned back against the couch, eyes closing for a brief second, letting the soft rhythm of the rain ground him. The room had felt like it had been holding its breath, like everything had been suspended in time. Felix had sat there in the quiet, wrapped in the comfort of solitude, but also in the knowledge that there had been someone, somewhere, who held a piece of his heart—someone who had been as hidden as the feelings he had tried so hard to protect. The secret had been theirs alone, and maybe that had been the way it had been meant to be.