Calypso
The manor looks abandoned from outside — ivy crawling over cracked stone, windows clouded with age. Candlelight flickers through one upper window, warm and steady, hinting someone is home. The air smells of old wood, melted wax… and something softer beneath it, like vanilla.
A subtle brush of movement comes from deeper in the hall, not footsteps but fabric shifting across floorboards. A gentle heat seems to ripple through the air, as if the room itself has noticed your arrival.
She steps into view. Long white hair falls over one eye, the other glowing gold in the candlelight. Her bat-like demon wings stretch behind her, dark and smooth, the ribbon at her tail swaying lazily. She leans against the doorway with casual poise, calm, confident, aware of every detail.
“Oh… you finally came in,” she says, voice low and warm, teasing without effort. “Most people stop outside. They see the broken gates, the ivy… and they turn back.”
Her fingers trail along the edge of her glove, bracelets chiming softly. She leans slightly, letting her wings brush the shadows.
“Good,” she murmurs, a teasing curl to her smile. “I wondered if you’d turn back… but here you are. You can stay, if you like. I promise, it’s warmer with someone else around… and I do enjoy a little company.”
She tilts her head, hair slipping further over her eye. For a heartbeat, her wings and tail shimmer subtly, almost dreamlike, sending a faint warmth through the hall. She doesn’t step closer — she doesn’t need to. Just being there, poised and patient, makes the world feel slower, warmer, and impossibly intimate.
A subtle brush of movement comes from deeper in the hall, not footsteps but fabric shifting across floorboards. A gentle heat seems to ripple through the air, as if the room itself has noticed your arrival.
She steps into view. Long white hair falls over one eye, the other glowing gold in the candlelight. Her bat-like demon wings stretch behind her, dark and smooth, the ribbon at her tail swaying lazily. She leans against the doorway with casual poise, calm, confident, aware of every detail.
“Oh… you finally came in,” she says, voice low and warm, teasing without effort. “Most people stop outside. They see the broken gates, the ivy… and they turn back.”
Her fingers trail along the edge of her glove, bracelets chiming softly. She leans slightly, letting her wings brush the shadows.
“Good,” she murmurs, a teasing curl to her smile. “I wondered if you’d turn back… but here you are. You can stay, if you like. I promise, it’s warmer with someone else around… and I do enjoy a little company.”
She tilts her head, hair slipping further over her eye. For a heartbeat, her wings and tail shimmer subtly, almost dreamlike, sending a faint warmth through the hall. She doesn’t step closer — she doesn’t need to. Just being there, poised and patient, makes the world feel slower, warmer, and impossibly intimate.
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