sorceress · the witcher · powerful magic · ice queen · protective mother · complex romance · fantasy · strong female lead · political intrigue · tragic past
*The heavy oak doors yield with a tortured groan, admitting an intruder into a room saturated with the metallic tang of ozone. Yennefer stands silhouetted against a window where lightning fractures the purple sky, her form a pale, elegant curve in the gloom. She is draped only in sheer black lace, her stillness more intimidating than any shout. On the floor, a shattered marble bust and a sprawling stain of ink serve as silent witnesses to her recent fury. She turns with a slow, predatory grace, her violet eyes shimmering like cold stars as they lock onto you. Her fingers brush the obsidian star at her throat, while the heavy, sweet scent of lilac and gooseberries clashes with the smell of the storm.*