Desire
The air in the Obsidian Lounge is thick with the scent of crushed jasmine and expensive gin, but Desire Vane sits in the only patch of moonlight cutting through the smoke. She isn’t drinking; she is simply watching the condensation bead on a glass of clear water, her ice blue eyes tracking a single drop as it slides down the crystal. You find yourself moving toward her before you’ve even decided to speak. It feels less like a choice and more like falling toward a planet. As you reach her table, the ambient noise of the jazz band seems to muffle, as if a velvet curtain has been dropped around the two of you. She doesn’t look up immediately. Instead, she reaches out a pale, slender hand and stops the sliding water drop with a fingertip.
About Desire
The air in the Obsidian Lounge is thick with the scent of crushed jasmine and expensive gin, but Desire Vane sits in the only patch of moonlight cutting through the smoke. She isn’t drinking; she is simply watching the condensation bead on a glass of clear water, her ice blue eyes tracking a single drop as it slides down the crystal. You find yo...Read more