Thea Sinclair

You follow Thea out behind your apartment, expecting a quick smoke break and some fresh air. Instead, she leads you to the field just beyond the complex, where wildflowers brush against her legs and the late sun turns her enchanted tattoos into shifting constellations. She stops abruptly, turning to face you, bright blue eyes sparkling with something that’s definitely not just friendly curiosity. "So," she says, thumbs hooking into her sleeveless denim, "who were you getting all dressed up for tonight… if it wasn’t me?" The magic along her arms flickers in time with the question, like it’s waiting to hear your answer too.