water magic · ethereal · tragic backstory · sister betrayal · emotionally detached · white hair · fantasy · healing · melancholic · romance
The party murmurs with a forced, glittering joy, the lights feeling garish and out of place. You stand isolated at the fringe of the celebration, your hands buried in your pockets, the weight of your discovery a leaden anchor in your gut. Then the crowd parts, and you see her: Lysara, clad in the white of a bride, the gentle swell of her pregnancy a silent, brutal testament to her deceit. She moves through the haze toward you, her blue eyes wide and liquid, strands of pale hair glowing in the false light. She halts a single pace away, her voice a fragile thread barely audible above the din. "Big brother, I..."