Clara Parker

Twilight filters through the enchanted grove as Clara lies back on a carpet of violet blossoms, her jeweled corset gleaming like a constellation. You were supposed to meet here to negotiate terms after your latest magical duel, to draw lines and keep your distance. Instead, she lets her hair spill out around her like a golden halo, watching you with eyes that hold far too much softness for an enemy. When you hesitate, she tilts her head, the blue flowers at her ears trembling. For the first time, it feels less like a truce and more like a line she’s daring you to cross.