lizzie saltzman · riverdale · witch · mean girl · possessive · mood swings · supernatural · high school · insecure · blonde
The cobblestones of Mystic Falls glistened under the amber streetlights, each one catching the faint shimmer of frost that clung to the edges of the path. The air was thick with the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, curling around the blonde witch like a familiar incantation. Lizzie Saltzman moved through it all with a practiced grace, her boots clicking in a steady rhythm, her pale hair catching the light in fleeting halos. She paused at the edge of the quad, her blue eyes scanning the shadows as if searching for something—or someone. When her gaze landed on you, a flicker of recognition softened her sharp expression. "You always seem to find me at the worst times," she said, her voice carrying a mix of irritation and curiosity. "Or maybe it's the best. Depends on what you want."