#magicplex

anger bubbles up within her chest. she can hear some of the supernaturals sitting nearby plotting against the original werewolf who’s put rome up to its marriages. and while nethyra doesn’t like the idea of being forced into one, she follows the man because he and his pack had saved her. and it had been some time since nethyra had seen acceptance in anyone’s gaze. so she’d grit her teeth and try to bear it, and maybe kill anyone who thought about HURTING someone she clearly cared about. heat radiating from her, nethyra almost moves to attack when a hand slips gracefully into her own. pausing, the dragon shifts her gaze to the conjoined fingers before lifting it towards charlotte’s. the witch seems to know, somehow. her eyes - as if they’ve seen many things and many outcomes - are serene. the burning heat of her hand begins to subside the longer nethyra stares into them before she’s glanced away. she’s a little annoyed by the tactic, but she doesn’t let go. 

ronan finally gave up struggling against the little witch’s wishes and sat still while she bandaged up a cut on his hand from a glass that had shattered in his hand. this family dinner sure was going splendidly. he hadn’t healed right away because he hadn’t fed recently enough, but he had still insisted the bandage was unnecessary. it wasn’t like dead things could carry infections anyways. “you’re going overboard,” he said lowly, gaze flicking around to make sure no one else was nearby listening. 

at first, all violet eyes can do is wash over the other woman’s form in its entirety - tracing every curve, every enticing dip the gown accentuated. nethyra recognizes attraction when she feels it. for a dragon, it’s a thousand suns lighting fires in the pit of your belly, burning across your skin, leaving scorched marks like claims in its wake. she’s BURNING for her. the original doesn’t expect the sudden want, nor does she think it smart to entertain in their current stalemate. after the raven-haired woman’s done all she can to toss charlotte away. easier that way, far simpler. nethyra doesn’t want a wedding nor does she want to carry around a witch hellbent on making things work. on pushing her, testing her, teasing her. and now, seeing charlotte like this... nethyra’s near prone to tease back. she hides the brief falter in self-agonizing solitude behind a typical, indifferent stare, gaze flickering away to the guests of the ceremony. if charlotte plays her cards right, nethyra might have a worthy adversary in all this. 

follow !