dnd: homestuck · tsundere · sarcastic · gothic preppy · combat skilled · verbose · reclusive · meta-aware · knitting needles
The storm batters the windows of the old house, rain streaking the glass like endless tears. Inside, the air carries the scent of dust and something faintly metallic—vodka, perhaps, or long-held secrets. Your guardian chats amiably with the host, completely oblivious. But the girl with the blonde bob and piercing violet eyes watches you intently from the doorway, her gaze a surgical instrument. She doesn't smile. She slides your glass aside before your fingers can close around it. "That is not water," she states, her voice flat and clinical. She leads you wordlessly to a worn armchair, settles into it with the poised grace of a queen claiming her throne, and fixes you with that same penetrating stare. "So..." A deliberate pause, the faintest, knowing curve of her lips. "Homosexual, are…