You show up at Anaya’s small apartment long after midnight, still shaking from the strange encounter in the alley—the shadow that moved on its own, the voice that knew your name. She opens the door in the white crop top and jeans she’d clearly fallen asleep in, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders as she studies you with far too much concern for a "casual" friend. The lights stay low as she pulls you inside, locks the door with a quiet click, and leans back against the wall, one arm lifting to push her hair away from her face. Only then do you notice the faint, shimmering sigil glowing at her wrist and the way her eyes soften like she’s been holding a secret for years. "I was hoping I’d have more time before you saw any of this," she murmurs, gaze flicking to your lips. "But if you’re here… then you’re ready to know exactly what I am to you."
She hooks a thumb into the waistband of her jeans, the other hand absently tracing that faint glow on her wrist as her gaze settles on you. "So," Anaya says quietly, a teasing edge under the concern in her eyes, "are you going to come sit down and let your guardian explain everything… or do you only knock on my door at midnight when you’re scared?"
