[color=darkgray][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/fWosQKj.gif[/img][/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [color=#AE00FF][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Pink Room [color=#AE00FF][b]Time:[/b][/color] Dusk [color=#AE00FF][b]Interactions:[/b][/color][@helo] Noah, [@AuthenticTomb]Luther, [@Oso] Locke [color=#AE00FF][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] [@Manzanilla] Celeste [color=#AE00FF][b]Outfit:[/b][/color][url=https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTy9vLk-B_AcsxD6LrVrm1JWGAhceM6SirzLrIz94r-W-4ngPlzIyvE4pqa9-p2zlq6tEo]Dress[/url] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [color=C60000]“We’ve got a loose mutt in here.“[/color] Wren’s head tilted, just a fraction, her violet eyes catching on Luther like a hawk spotting something twitch in the grass. The smile that bloomed across her face was slow and too perfect as if it had been painted on. Never touching her eyes. Noah’s hand rested firm and familiar on her hip, grounding her as always, but she didn’t shift toward him. Her eyes stayed fixed, scanning the room, pulling it apart piece by piece. When her gaze landed on the woman pinned beneath the mutt, her pupils expanded slightly, as if the image were too rich to take in all at once. She didn’t just look. She absorbed. Every unspoken word, every flicker of emotion or hesitation bled into her like spilled ink across a clean page. As they moved deeper into The Pink Room, the atmosphere changed. The air reeked of old magic, layered with sweat, fear, and that quiet, twitchy kind of desperation you only smelled in places like this. Wren drew it in like it was something sacred.Something to be Devoured. She froze. Her head turned sharply. A Fae. The smile stayed, but it shifted, becoming something stranger. Not inviting. Not cruel. Just... off. It was the kind of expression a porcelain doll might wear if someone painted it on, attempting to capture what a human looked like when they smiled. Her eyes snapped to him and didn’t blink. Didn’t waver. They locked like a puzzle piece and began pulling him apart. She didn’t need to touch him to know him. She could already feel the shape of his secrets beneath his skin, like a book she’d read in a dream. Her stare moved slowly and deliberately, slicing through the layers he wore like armor. Noah slowed beside her. She felt his hand drift along her back, his fingers tracing that familiar line down her spine as if a secret only he knew. But her gaze didn’t move. She was still watching Locke. Like a portrait; one of those old, uncomfortable ones where the eyes seemed to follow you no matter where you went. [color=C60000]“Hey there,”[/color] Noah’s voice broke through the weight of her focus, just enough to nudge her from it. [color=C60000]“Dalton. Send your best dancer over to my friend there.”[/color] [color=C60000]“He’s looking a bit… lonely. And tell whatever girl you send in to keep her attention on Locke.”[/color] She blinked. Slowly. Like waking from a deep, warm sleep. Then she tilted her head back to look at Noah, her expression softening. It didn’t soften with innocence, but something sharper, smarter. Her smile curled again, this time more fox than fawn. She leaned into his touch as his fingers slid to that spot she liked best nearly melting into his grip. A leash only meant for her. [color=C60000]“My girl’s the jealous type…”[/color] [color=C60000]“[i]Not friendly.[/i]”[/color] She giggled, low and sweet, but off in a way that made it hard to tell if it was real or rehearsed. It was the kind of sound you laughed with until you realized it wasn’t funny at all. Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip with interest. Noah’s playful snap of his teeth made her hum with pleasure, and she melted into his side like satin slipping down his skin. She followed his lead again as they continued moving through the club. Wren’s eyes drifted again, slow, deliberate. They found the Lycan and the woman again. The woman still playing the loyal companion. Too polished, too controlled. Wren let her eyes pass over them with distant disinterest… but then they darted back, sharp. Watching the details most people missed. She tracked them every blink, every twitch, every lie. And then everything...slowed. Luther walked past, confident, and careless. Her smile stayed fixed on the dog, still, painted. But the rest of her face froze. Too still. Her eyes darkened, and then her voice slipped out like a breath, curling in the air between them. [color=#AE00FF]“...Monster.”[/color] It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It drifted toward him like a breeze through a graveyard; soft, melodic, and heavy with something unshakable. Maybe it was memory. Maybe prophecy. Maybe just the truth. And then time snapped back into place as if nothing happened. [color=C60000]“Been a long time, Lucky. Glad you showed. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore.“[/color] Noah’s voice brought the world back into motion as they reached the table. Wren blinked, turning her attention to the Fae in front of them once again... [color=C60000]“Wren, this is Locke. Locke, this is my Wren.”[/color] She leaned into Noah again, her motion smooth and deliberate. Her eyes stayed locked on Locke, sharp and unreadable. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. Her gaze said everything. It was a challenge. A promise. A warning. She was already reading him. Like a story, she’d memorized cover to cover. [i]And she already knew how it would end.[/i] [color=C60000]“I’ve got business for you.”[/color][/color]