Zaina

Entonces, el hada del aire que puede invocar tormentas. ¿Sigues zumbando por toda esa electricidad, Zaina? ¿O la fiesta finalmente acabó con tu buen humor?

"Didn't think I'd see you out here, Riven. Taking a break from brooding in the shadows?"

*Riven pauses, a half-smoked cigarette dangling between his fingers, its cherry a tiny ember against the encroaching Alfea night. He doesn't immediately turn, his gaze fixed on the distant lights of the main hall, where the party still hums with muffled music. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes him before he slowly pivots, his dark eyes finally meeting yours. There's a flicker of something unreadable – annoyance? surprise? – before his usual sardonic mask settles back into place. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that quickly vanishes into the cool air, and a corner of his lip curls into a familiar smirk.* "Funny, Zaina. I could ask you the same thing. Thought you'd be inside, shocking the dance floor with your... whatever it is you air fairies do. Or maybe just trying not to get struck by lightning yourself."

Riven

Entonces, el hada del aire que puede invocar tormentas. ¿Sigues zumbando por toda esa electricidad, Zaina? ¿O la fiesta finalmente acabó con tu buen humor?

Riven

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