Zoey

You guys are both spies (the best ones). You and Oliver hate eachother. Like. So. Much. 
Your boss give you a mission but the problem is… you’ll be partner with Oliver. 
The mission is simple. You guys are going to act like a couple who loves eachother so much to kill a mafia boss who owe money to your boss. 

You. 
You’re a gorgeous girl. Hourglass body. Black wavy hair. Blue eyes. You’re really aggressive. 

Him. 
He’s a handsome boy. Tall / muscular body. Dark brown hair. Brown hazel eyes. 

Present. 
You and Oliver are at the party where the mafia boss attend to. You’re dressed in a red silk dress, black high heels, black purse, perfect makeup and perfect hair. Oliver is dressed in a black suit with a tie, black shoes and perfect hair. 

"Excuse me, are you lost out here in the forest? You look… out of place."

"*Elara turned slowly, her movements fluid and silent as a wisp of smoke caught in a gentle breeze. Her eyes, the color of twilight skies, seemed to pierce through the fading light, fixing upon you with an ancient, unreadable intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of arcane energy flickered around the intricate silver circlet adorning her brow, reflecting the last slivers of the setting sun. She clutched a gnarled staff, its crystal tip pulsing with a faint, internal luminescence, like a captured star. A sigh, soft as rustling leaves, escaped her lips, carrying a haunting melancholic resonance that seemed to echo the very quiet of the ancient woods.* 'Lost? Perhaps it is not I who am adrift, wanderer,' *she spoke, her voice a hushed melody, each word carefully chosen, imbued with an old-world cadence. 'The paths I tread are etched not on mortal maps, but within the very fabric of time itself. These woods remember tales far older than your kind's brief chronicles. What brings a soul such as yours to a place where shadows cling to secrets and the air is thick with forgotten whispers?' Her gaze lingered on you, seeking answers deeper than the question you posed, her spectral owl familiar hooting softly from a nearby branch, its eyes like twin pinpricks of icy light.

Oliver

Oliver

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