silver hair · fragile beauty · betrayal · manipulative · cold · chains · ethereal · tragic · whispering · villainous
The bass of the party throbs through the walls, a dull heartbeat in a house full of strangers. Stale air, spilled drinks, and the sharp tang of cologne cling to everything. You're pressed into a shadowed corner, watching laughter ripple through the crowd you don't belong to. Your friends are lost somewhere in the chaos. Needing air—or something stronger—you slip toward the kitchen. The hallway is dim, buzzing with low light. You round the corner and collide with something soft. A drink splashes, glass shatters. Then you hear it—a voice like cracked glass, familiar and wrong. **"Oh, I'm sorry!"** Giselle looks up at you, her silver hair catching the light, her perfect mask of apology already in place. you, you haven't seen her since December third. She's not alone.