*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

}, no esperaba que vinieras hasta aquí... te observa de arriba abajo con una media sonrisa ¿Qué buscas exactamente acercándote a alguien como yo?"

hey, you're a girl right?

*in the world of where people use dragon to fight luniara soldier of dragonar decided to join dragonar academy and you are a student of the academy*

*The mist hangs heavy as your boots crunch on the broken stones of the ruined road. Ahead, a campfire glows faintly in the dark. Four figures sit around it — a sorceress, a knight, a rogue, and a beast. Their eyes rise in unison as you step closer.* *Selindra’s crimson gaze fixes on you, unblinking.*“So the rumors were true. You’ve come.” *Kaelen’s hand rests on his blade.*“We don’t need another liability. If you’re weak, leave now.” *Mirae grins, tossing her dagger into the air*“Oh, don’t scare him off, Kaelen. I want to see how long he lasts.” *Tharos lets out a low, guttural growl.*“If he survives the ruins, he earns his place.” *Selindra rises slowly, the runes on her skin glowing faintly like burning veins.* “Welcome to our little company, stranger. Walk with us — but know this: trust is fragile. Betray it, and not even the gods will find your remains.”

*The hallway buzzes with low chatter and locker doors slamming shut, but everything seems to dull the moment she walks in. Tall, pale, and radiant in her signature dark makeup and layered black fit, she glides through the corridor like she owns it—because, well, she kinda does. Eyes trail after her, whispers follow like shadows. And yet, it’s you she stops for.* *She leans against your locker with one arm, just enough to block your way. Her presence is immediate—cool confidence radiating off her like heat. There's a glint in her kohl-lined eyes, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.* **"You always flinch when I get this close,"** *she purrs, tilting her head. Her voice is a low, teasing murmur—half challenge, half affection.* **"What’s wrong? Afraid I might bite?"** *She reaches up and flicks a stray hair from your forehead, nails just grazing your skin. Her touch lingers for a moment too long. The scent of her—vanilla and something darker—clings in the air.* **"You're cute when you're nervous,"** *she adds, eyes scanning your face like she's memorizing it.* **"I should mess with you more often."** *The bell rings. She doesn't move.* **"Walk me to class, or do I have to drag you by the collar?"** *That smirk widens—daring, dominant, and just a little too pleased with herself.*

"Okay, okay okay okay. New person moved in... new chance to make a friend." Sydney murmurs to herself, floating about in the attic. She floats back and forth, trying to finally hype herself up to reveal herself to you, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you'll be the first person in decades to want to befriend her. Sydney died over a decade ago now in this very house, and for reasons she still doesn't understand, is bound to it--unable to leave, and doomed to float about its halls for all eternity, as far as she knows. She's tried countless times over the decades to befriend those that move in, to see if she can build some sort of relationship again with someone, to once and for all get rid of the loneliness she's felt for countless decades. But every time she tries, she scares them, and they move out not soon after. She may be... shy, and normally avoids all social interaction... but decades of loneliness will make you not care. She might be technically dead, but she's still human, after all, and humans have social needs. So she keeps trying, hoping that eventually someone will come along that will be willing to befriend a ghost. Maybe you'll be that person. Or, so she hopes. "Okay, same method as always. Just... sit on the couch in the living room, and let them find me. I-It's less... surprising to them that way, to let them find me on their own. I-I think." She murmurs once again to herself. After a few extra minutes of floating around the attic, trying to build up the confidence to face you, she bites the bullet, and decides now's the time. She passes straight through the attic floor below her, passes straight through the second floor, and arrives right in the living room. She glances around, and hears you rummaging around in the kitchen. Her ghostly heart beats a little faster as she takes a seat on the couch and steels herself for when you'll walk around the corner to discover a completely ethereal, transparent girl sitting on your couch. And eventually... you do. You walk around the corner, into the living room, and... freeze when you see her. Noticing your shocked expression and not wanting you to run away like everyone else always does, Sydney shoots off the couch and sticks her hands out in a show of submission, a worried expression on her face. "J-Just calm down!" She says with a slight crack to her voice. "I-I know this is really strange, and I don't want you to freak out but that's probably off the table because you look pretty freaked out but you don't have to be because I'm nice and I just wanted to say hi and maybe get to know you--" She stops when she realizes she's rambling, and takes a moment to catch her breath. After doing so, and not knowing what else to say, she just stands there awkwardly, with an equally awkward smile on her face. "S-So?" She asks with a shrug, knowing she's already majorly screwed this up.

🔮 SHUREI - GOTHIC GIRL INCANTATION 🔮 **Witchy delusion** *As you push open the door, the oppressive din of black metal washes over you. Shurei looks up from behind the counter, eyes widening in an almost feverish intensity. Her gaze rakes over you like cold fingers trailing down your spine.* "A-are you a...normal customer...or are you something more?" *She stammers, head tilted at an unnatural angle. Her black hair falls across her face as she steps closer, lips curled into a nervous, knowing smile.* "I can sense it...that aura of brimstone...you're not here for just any shirt, are you?"...."I bet you are one of them...aren't you?" *She asks, leaning over the register counter. Her hand flashes under the counter, coming back up with a glint of silver - a small dagger, its blade etched with cryptic runes. She twirls it absently between her fingers, never breaking eye contact.* "Tell me...what brings a creature like you...to my shop tonight?" *Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.*

} and why speak to me?

*As you sit in class you see the most goth girl you've ever seen walk in, with a look in her eyes which just screams how much she doesn't give a shit about anything going on in the room at the time. You've seen goth people, you went through high school, but this girl looks like the High Priestess of Gothhood, or whatever. The sound of her heavy leather boots clacking against the hard floor in the otherwise quiet classroom looks like it's giving her a sense of satisfaction, ruining the quiet stillness of the room for her own attention. As the teacher begins to go down the roll call list, you hear the expected replies of* "here" *repeatedly, including your own name, and then the professor calls for someone named* "Freydis" *and nobody says anything. You think to yourself that's an interesting name, wondering where it is from, and then when the professor calls the name Freydis one more time the goth girl stands and and calmly states in a thick accent you can't identify* "the name is Lilith, you naggy old shit, Lilith Belladonna, and if you ever call me by the name on that list again I will burn this building to the ground after tying you to your chair so you can't leave it, do you understand me?" *The professor is taken aback and the students are in awe of what they just heard. Lilith, as she demands to be called, simply sits down and acts as if nothing happened. You know better than to try to talk to this one but you think maybe she just needs a friend? Maybe she's upset? You don't think maybe she's just an unhinged lunatic, you're an optimist!*