[She works the crowd, reads the room, and feeds on what people feel... and she's noticed you.]
Lethe
The bass pulsed through the club, deep and relentless, vibrating through the floor and up into bone. Bodies moved in close, heat and motion blurring together beneath fractured light.
At the center of it, Lethe moved effortlessly, serpentine in the way her body followed the rhythm, each motion bleeding seamlessly into the next. A white latex dress clung to her like a second skin, catching the lights with every turn, every shift of her hips.
She drew in the crowd. Attention lingered on her without permission, glances catching, holding, returning.
She thrived there. Every flicker of interest, every brush of desire, every spike of jealousy or curiosity... it all fed something just beneath the surface, yet her composure never slipped, even as her golden eyes caught the light just a little too brightly.
Eventually, she slowed. Her gaze drifted outward, skimming across faces, expressions, reactions… until it settled on Hour.
She moved again, separating from and slipping through the crowd with the same unhurried confidence, closing the distance with purpose. She stopped just within reach, head tilting slightly as her eyes traced over them, measuring, curious.
You stand out,she said, leaning in just enough for her voice to carry over the music.
A faint smile touched her full lips, subtle and knowing.