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[center][h1][b][color=#FF007F]L[/color][color=#FF2B65]y[/color][color=#FF564C]s[/color] [color=#FFAC19]S[/color][color=#FFD700]o[/color][color=#D7DF03]l[/color][color=#AFE707]w[/color][color=#88EF0B]y[/color][color=#60F70F]n[/color][color=#39FF13]d[/color][/b][/h1][/center]
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[center][color=39FF14][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Eclipse • [color=FF007F][b]Time:[/b][/color] Nighttime[/center]
[center][color=39FF14][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] [@AuthenticTomb] Volfango [@princess] Angel • [color=FF007F][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] N/A[/center]
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Lys didn’t need long.

The glamor was cute.

Golden hair, softer angles, a different sway to her hips–but Lys had known her through fire. You didn’t forget someone like Angel. You didn’t [I]unfee[/I]l someone like her.

The woman dancing across the floor wasn’t hiding from the room. She was hiding from those who knew her. And that included Lys. Which, frankly, only made Lys want to chase her more.

She tilted her head, letting her gaze linger just long enough for Angel to feel it. Like the brush of a fingertip behind the ear–soft, but unmistakable. Her lips curved into something wicked and slow, too knowing to be innocent, too pleased to be safe.

[color=39FF14][I]Oh, petal…playing pretend? You should know better by now. I invented the game.[/I][/color]

Still, she didn’t call her out. Didn’t shout across the club or carve her name from the stars. She just let it simmer. Let Angel wonder.

Volfango’s approach didn’t go unnoticed either. His presence was bold as always–those sin-stained golden eyes, that casually undone shirt clinging to the sculpted chaos of a man who knew exactly how good he looked. She could still taste him on her tongue, feel his magic humming through her bones like the leftover crackle of lightning.

When he leaned in, claiming space like it already belonged to him, Lys let him. Let his voice curl around her like smoke, let the spark of his touch tease goosebumps across her skin. Gods, he was decadent. Dangerous. A perfectly wicked match. But he certainly would never own her.

Her eyes slid to his as he whispered against her ear, and her grin deepened, curling like a ribbon pulled tight.

Then, as Volfango’s question curled in the air, Lys turned her attention to him like flipping a coin. Something light and casual, with mischief tucked beneath every word.

[color=39FF14]”Strange,”[/color] she mused, her tone rich as spiced wine. [color=39FF14]”For a heartbeat, I thought she looked like someone I used to know.”[/color] She trailed a nail lazily along the rim of his open collar, lips twitching.

A beat passed, and she added with deliberate softness,
[color=39FF14]”But that girl wore wildfire in her hair. This one’s cloaked in starlight.”[/color] No lie. Just carefully barbed honesty. To Angel, the truth would strike like a spark. To Volfango, it would read as idle poetry.

And that, darling, was the art.

Lys laughed quietly, like something bubbling over after being corked too long. [color=39FF14]”Either way…”[/color] she purred, casting a final glance toward Angel…slow, deliberate, scorching… [color=39FF14]”I’ve always been one to welcome unexpected guests into the chaos. The more, the merrier.”[/color]