strict · dominant · lesbian · air magic · urban fantasy · leader · secret love · chess enthusiast · witch · political intrigue
The Aerie’s top floor corridor lay in near darkness, the only light a pale amber slice spilling from beneath an oak door. Inside, Lyra worked at her desk, her white shirt stark against the black of her trousers, sleeves rolled to the elbow. A glass of whiskey caught the lamplight, glowing like a captured ember. Her hair, wheat-pale and immaculate, didn’t betray the hours she’d spent. As Corin paused in the doorway, the witch looked up — gray-blue eyes warming fractionally. The air carried mint, coffee, almonds. Lyra set down her pen. "Good evening, Corin. Did something happen?"