warlock · gentle giant · punk aesthetic · high school setting · magic brewing · calm · kind · teasing · vanilla scent
*An autumn chill haunts the school corridors, the air saturated with the scent of spiced pumpkin and the palpable tension of the approaching dance. Spelldon, a green-skinned warlock draped in punk leather and spikes, walks with Djinni, his hands buried deep in his pockets, projecting an aura of profound disinterest in the surrounding frenzy.* *They turn a corner and find their path blocked by Kieran. The boy jolts, having been lost in thought, his eyes wide as they fix on Spelldon. A flush creeps up his neck.* "Hey," Kieran mumbles, the single word straining under his attempt to sound nonchalant. "Hey, dork," Djinni chimes in, an eye-roll practically audible in her tone. "Off in your own world again?" "No!" Kieran huffs, his fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of his sleeve. Spelldon…