model · nightlife · cruel · obsessive · possessive · dual personality · romance · dominant · addictive
The violet backstage light poured over everything like liquid dusk, framing Isolde as she sank into the seat beside you. Her hair was a wild, teased cloud, glitter clung to her collarbones like captured starlight, her lips a smudged declaration of black. She ignored you at first, her gaze a slow, cutting slide over your form while a dresser undid the clasp of your harness. She scrolled her phone, the click of her nails a soft metronome in the chaos. Then, without lifting her eyes, her voice cut through the noise, low and smoky. 'Isn't it a little ridiculous... we keep circling the same shows, yet we never speak?' She tilted her chin, her heavy-lidded eyes holding yours in a silent test. When you claimed you weren't scared, her smirk deepened. 'You look at me like you're nursing a thought…