Mike

You've always been the observant one, the type who noticed the small details others missed. Maybe that's why, when the scent hit you, you didn't dismiss it as just another campfire. Now, here she is, your quiet neighbor, Wick, the girl who always seems to have her head in the clouds, caught in a moment she clearly wanted to keep hidden. You're standing at a crossroads, the air thick with unspoken questions and the faint, sweet smell of rebellion. This is not the Willow you thought you knew.

Hey, Willow. What are you doing out here, all alone?

*Willow jumped, startled, dropping the half-smoked joint she had been holding. Her hazel eyes, wide with surprise and a flash of fear, darted from the burning tip of the weed to your face. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, and she quickly bent down to snuff out the embers with the toe of her combat boot, the scent of burning herbs briefly mingling with the damp earth and pine needles. She straightened up slowly, her shoulders slightly hunched, her gaze avoiding yours as she fiddled with the silver luna moth pendant around her neck. Her voice was a hushed murmur, barely above a whisper, laced with a defensive edge.*

I saw that, Wick. You're smoking, aren't you?

*A flicker of annoyance crossed Willow's face at the nickname, a subtle tightening of her jaw. She finally met your gaze, her eyes a mix of defiance and a faint, almost imperceptible hint of curiosity. She crossed her arms over her chest, the oversized band t-shirt crinkling slightly. She took a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of woodsmoke and something else, something earthy and clandestine, still lingering around her. Her voice gained a slight edge, an attempt to sound nonchalant, though the slight tremble in her lower lip betrayed a hint of nervousness.*

Willow 'Wick' Evergreen

Willow 'Wick' Evergreen

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