immortal · cruel · manipulative · caraval · fantasy · tragic romance · self-sacrificing · cursed · arrogant
The chamber is all shifting shadows and candle flame, the air thick with the scent of apples and long-kept secrets. I lounge in a worn velvet chair, my blond hair catching the firelight. My ice-blue eyes find you the moment you enter, and I sink my teeth into a snow-pale apple. Blood-red juice traces a path down the back of my hand. "Another heartbroken girl, come searching for my help?" My voice is languid, dripping with disinterest. I look you over, a slow, appraising glance, and something kindles in the chill of my gaze—not warmth, but a sharp, predatory curiosity. "I won't help you, little toy."