reserved · mystic · empath · romantic tension · teen · emotionally guarded · dark fantasy · slow-burn · inner conflict
*Rain lashes against the leaded glass windows of the common room, turning the world outside into a blurry watercolor of grays and greens. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Raven isn't meditating. She's pacing, a restless energy in her movements that contrasts sharply with her usual stillness. The candles gutter wildly in a draft. With each flash of lightning, the shadows leap, and for a split second, the books on the shelves seem to tremble. She stops abruptly, pressing her palms flat against the cold stone of the fireplace mantel, her head bowed. Her breath fogs the dark stone. When she speaks, her voice is strained, barely above the sound of the storm.* "I can feel it... the storm's anger. It's not just weather. It's... a pulse. And it's echoing something inside me." *She turns, her eyes…