[img]https://i.imgur.com/JAFb3tJ.jpeg[/img]
[right][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/right][right][sup][color=#5a3e85][b]#5a3e85[/b][/color][color=2e2c2c]...[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]...[/color][url=https://imgur.com/aGarb8T][color=9b9b9b][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url][/sup][/right]


[indent][indent][color=#ffffff]Anissa kept her eyes fixed on the drink in front of her, refusing to watch Elias walk away. The fruit punch caught the bonfire's light, its surface shimmering like gasoline rainbows on a wet pavement. Her own reflection stared back from the red depths,  warped and fragmented. The distorted image suited her current state too well, she decided,  a visual representation of the ugly names still ringing in her ears.[/color]

[color=#ffffff][right][i]Snake. Cold. Venomous.[/i][/right][/color]

[color=#ffffff]She pressed a gloved fingertip against the cup's rim, tracing slow circles to mask the slight tremor in her hand. None of this was Elias's fault, of course. He couldn't have known about the verbal lashing she'd endured minutes earlier, couldn't have guessed how his careless joke would rub salt in fresh wounds. That didn't stop the interaction from feeling like being struck twice in the same bruised spot, though.  So, when the unfamiliar voice spoke, Anissa didn't immediately look up. Her spine stiffened instinctively, shoulders squaring like a boxer bracing for another blow.[/color]

[color=#0a6d6b]“Well… he was a bull in a china shop.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]The voice flowed smooth as bourbon, male and unmistakably amused. She heard the chuckle that followed, felt more than saw the chair near her groan under someone's weight as they settled without waiting for an invitation. Only then did she lift her eyes to meet his own, finding a practiced smile already in place.[/color]

[color=#0a6d6b]“For what it’s worth, I think the gloves look nice and go well with your dress,”[/color][color=#ffffff] he offered, taking a small sip of his glass. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]While he drank, Anissa cataloged his appearance in her usual way. The navy short-sleeved button-up hung open just enough to reveal a crisp white undershirt beneath, and the rose-coloured trousers hugged his frame with intentional elegance. Every element spoke of careful coordination:  light against dark, soft fabrics against sharp lines.  So, objectively speaking, he was the most put-together man she'd seen all evening. That, at least, commanded a sliver of respect.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Anissa’s attention lingered on the precise cut of his sleeves next and the way his shirt draped perfectly across his shoulders (no happy accident, that). When her eyes finally returned to his face, she'd already constructed her own mask, her berry-stained lips curving in polite acknowledgment while her eyes remained guarded but not hostile.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“Thank you,”[/color][color=#ffffff] she said, smooth and even. The tone was one she'd perfected through years of mirror practice - pleasant but impenetrable, the vocal equivalent of a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. This stranger didn't want to see her unravel; he wanted charming banter with a pretty girl. She could play that game. [/color][color=#5a3e85]“It’s exactly why I chose it.”[/color]

[color=#0a6d6b]“Guys like that don’t have a clue,” [/color][color=#ffffff]the man continued, gesturing toward her outfit with an appreciative tilt of his head.[/color][color=#0a6d6b] “They think gloves only serve one purpose… warmth, even though you’re obviously fashionable. Or they think being called a lizard is somehow a compliment?” [/color][color=#ffffff] He sighed and shook his head in what looked like disbelief. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Anissa arched an eyebrow, her voice dry as desert wind. [/color][color=#5a3e85]“And yet, here I am.Still wearing the gloves because I know-[i]we[/i] know better than that.” [/color][color=#ffffff] She clocked it immediately, then, after she’d said this; how he transitioned from amused spectator to intentional presence, smoothing out his posture like a man deciding it was time to properly enter the scene.[/color]

[color=#0a6d6b]“Sorry, I’m being rude,”[/color][color=#ffffff] he said, offering his hand. [/color][color=#0a6d6b]“I’m Sylas.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Anissa looked at the gesture for a breath longer than necessary before placing her hand in his, curious as to what he’d do.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Which was when he brought her fingers to his lips as an answer. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Her lips parted in silent surprise, a soft, unvoiced [i]oh[/i] forming in her throat. In all her years of deflecting flirtations and half-hearted romantic advances, no one had ever quite done that. Not the smooth talkers, not the ones trying to figure out what impressed her, and certainly not the charming ones who thought wit alone was enough. The unexpected intimacy of the gesture sent a peculiar warmth crawling up her neck, but by the time he released her hand, her expression had already smoothed back into practiced neutrality.[/color]

[color=#0a6d6b]“And, for the record,” [/color][color=#ffffff]he added with a quiet chuckle, [/color][color=#0a6d6b]“you look beautiful. And definitely not like a lizard.”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Anissa's fingers remained slightly curled where his lips had brushed them, the ghost of the contact lingering like the afterimage of a bright light. It almost—[i]almost[/i]—felt like a genuine compliment. The effortless way he'd executed the move,however, suggested this wasn't his first time playing this particular game.[/color]

[i][color=#5a3e85]He's testing me,[/color][/i][color=#ffffff] she realized with sudden clarity. Gauging whether she'd be easy to charm or satisfyingly difficult.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Strangely, the realization didn't spark anger. Maybe because she'd endured far more insidious tests before from people who pretended their prying was concern and who masked their curiosity as affection. At least Sylas wasn't pretending this was anything beyond what it was: a moment, a game, a calculated move in whatever social chess match they'd stumbled into. More importantly, he didn't seem to be angling for anything beyond the interaction itself. No hidden agenda, no desperate need to impress. Just... play.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]And if this was a game, Anissa might as well take her turn properly, right? [/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“Anissa,” [/color][color=#ffffff]she introduced herself, her fingers tracing the rim of her untouched drink absently. Then, without warning or permission, she reached across and plucked his glass from his hand. His eyes flickered with something unreadable—surprise? intrigue?—but he didn't protest as she brought the glass to her lips and took a measured sip. The liquid burned like swallowing campfire smoke: hot, bitter, and utterly vile. It seared her throat, demanding a cough she stubbornly refused to release as his gaze dropped to her neck, watching her swallow with undisguised interest. She set the glass down between them, her voice only slightly roughened by the assault on her windpipe.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“...That’s vile,” [/color][color=#ffffff]Anissa declared, blinking away the involuntary moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. [/color][color=#5a3e85]“It’s got a nice burn, though. What is it?” [/color]

[color=#ffffff] Before she could get an answer, the sudden shout—[/color][color=#667c0c]“LEWSKI!”[/color][color=#ffffff]—cut through the party noise like a cannon blast, making Anissa's head snap toward the commotion. What she saw made her blink in disbelief. A human tornado of fair limbs and unchecked enthusiasm came barreling across the field, moving with the single-minded determination of a college kid who'd had one too many energy drinks.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“What in the Greek hell….” [/color][color=#ffffff]she muttered under her breath, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]The guy vaulted over a bench like it was nothing more than a speed bump in his personal Olympic event. His target, a startled redhead, barely had time to react before being scooped up in a one-armed hug that looked equal parts affectionate and mildly dangerous. The laugh that followed was loud enough to scare birds from nearby trees, completely unselfconscious and brimming with pure, unfiltered joy. It was the kind of sound that made Anissa's chest ache strangely, like watching someone effortlessly speak a language she'd never mastered.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]She couldn’t look away. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]People like this fascinated her. The way they occupied space without apology, without constantly checking to see if they were welcome. They crashed through life like the world had personally invited them to the party, collecting affection and eye-rolls in equal measure. It was both baffling and mesmerizing to witness.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]A dry chuckle escaped her nose, short-lived when her peripheral vision caught movement near the bonfire. River stood brushing snow from his clothes, his muttered words lost in the noise, but his body language screaming quiet retreat. She didn't need to see what had happened to recognize the signs of the art of disappearing without making a scene, leaving just early enough to avoid questions but late enough that his absence would still be noticed. Her eyes tracked his retreating form automatically, though she made no move to wave or call out. That wasn't their dynamic, she assumed.  But something in her body tensed, and the slightest transfer of weight to her feet occurred if she might stand. The impulse died as quickly as it came, her gloved hands smoothing over her dress as she settled back into her chair.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]The parallel wasn’t lost on her. River didn't need a witness to his exit. He didn't owe her an explanation for leaving any more than she owed him one when she'd vanished into the trees earlier.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Yet, despite knowing better, Anissa's eyes remained on him.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Maybe a little too long.[/color]

[/indent][/indent][hr] 
Location: Table near the bonfire  
Interactions: Sylas ([@Mjolnir]) 
Mentions: Elias, Wes, Rae, River