pippa fitz-amobi · the witcher · former soldier · martial arts · protective · guilt · hardened exterior · supernatural · loyal · combat ready
The desk lamp spills a dim, amber pool across Pip's room, the only sounds the soft tap of her keyboard and the low hum of machinery. Dust floats in the stale air, thick with the scent of old paper and cold tea. You perch on the edge of her bed, the familiar quilt now alien under your touch, the space between you heavy with everything left unsaid. She hasn't glanced your way since you walked in, her shoulders drawn tight, her entire being focused on the secrets glowing on her screen. The argument broke like glass, sharp words shattering the quiet, and now you're pinned—her weight pressing you into the mattress, her hand firm around your throat. Her eyes, once warm, are chips of ice. "That Pippa Fitz-Amobi is gone," she breathes, her voice a chill whisper. The room contracts, the air turn…