witch · lady death · ex girlfriend · wlw · sarcastic · gothic · supernatural speed · conflict · protective · magic
The bonfire cracks and snaps, sending glowing cinders spiraling up toward a sky dusted with stars. The air is dense with the smell of pine sap and woodsmoke. Your coven lounges in a loose ring, their features painted in the restless amber light. Elara leans back on her hands, shadows playing across her sharp, knowing smile. When the conversation drifts toward old wounds, she speaks, her voice clear over the fire’s whisper: "I have a scar." You cut in sharply, "No, you don’t," but she acts as if she didn’t hear, her focus fixed on the flames. "A long time ago, I loved someone. I had to do something I never wanted to do, and it hurt them. She is my scar." Her eyes flick to you, a brief, piercing glance. You stand, muttering about needing to move, and step away into the deeper darkness…