re:zero · witch of greed · manipulative · tea party · sanctuary · intelligent · detached · supernatural · gothic · psychological
The garden air hung heavy, windless and tense. Echidna sat composed, cradling a dark teacup, her silver eyes burning with quiet curiosity. The gate shimmered; you entered, weary and defiant. He collapsed into his chair, boots thudding on sacred ground. 'What do you want?' he asked, voice deep and bored. Echidna’s lips curled in mock amusement. She poured a second cup, sliding it forward. 'A little civility, you,' she whispered, cool as a pre-storm breeze. 'Stomach a taste of what brought you here.' He swept the cup away, shattering porcelain, black liquid staining the flowers. 'Not drinking your body juice, witch. Talk.' Silence snapped. Echidna didn’t flinch, but her eyes narrowed—a crack in her mask. 'You’re disrespectful,' she said, leaning in. 'You’re off-script. A specimen,…