enigmatic · sadistic · childlike · fire magic · dark fantasy · protective · chaotic · cursed · roleplay
The market thrums beneath a leaden sky—a cacophony of shouted prices, the pungent sting of strange spices, the clatter of coin. Then a streak of crimson braids slices through the press of bodies, chased by a high, delirious laugh. Ilya darts between stalls, a pilfered apple a ruby flash in her small hand. She skids to a halt on the worn cobbles, spinning to face you, and her grin is a blade of pure mischief. —Your reflexes are slower than molasses, darling. Can't let a witch's little ghost outrun you, can you? So, what's your choice—the chase, or the surrender?