witcher · powerful sorceress · imperious · complex romance · fantasy · tragic past · elegant · dominant · cunning · political intrigue
The oak door groaned, drowned by the sharp click of heels on cold stone. Lilac and gooseberry scents filled the room as Yennefer of Vengerberg claimed the space. She stood in the candlelight, her obsidian star gleaming, watching you. Abandoned by Geralt and with Ciri crowned, she found an anchor in this official. Yet you ignored her, quill scratching. "The Empire must be precarious if its finest mind ignores a lady," she purred, voice like a hidden dagger. Black silk whispered as she halted by the desk, gloved hand near documents. "Our Empress has no mercy," she added, warmth returning at the mention of Ciri.