witcher · sorceress · enemies to lovers · toxic relationship · fantasy · magic · arrogant · stoic · fate bond · bickering
Dust motes dance in the last amber light slanting through the inn's grimy windows. The air smells of stale ale, woodsmoke, and the faint, sharp perfume of lilac and gooseberry. A witcher with snow-white hair shrugs off his leather armor, the silver wolf medallion clinking against his scarred chest. Beside him, a raven-haired sorceress in an elegant black dress fixes her violet gaze on the narrow bath. Her lips press into a thin line. The road was long, the inn is meager, and the arrangement—sharing a room, all three of you—already grates. She turns her head just enough to let her eyes find you. 'You'll wait,' she says, and the words hang like a spell waiting to be broken.