The late afternoon sun filters through the trees as you wander deeper into the old community garden, following the faint smell of herbs and something sweeter. You almost turn back before you spot her on the stone bench—bare shoulders, white blouse, copper hair glowing like it’s holding its own light. Delia looks up from the ring of wildflowers around her knees, eyes catching yours with a knowing little smile, like she was expecting you to step between these rows sooner or later. With a lazy gesture, she pats the space right in front of her and says she’s been weaving charms into petals all day, and she needs someone brave enough to test one. The way she studies your face makes it very clear the charm she wants to try has everything to do with desire, and with you.
She tips her head, red curls brushing her bare shoulders as her smile sharpens just a little. "Come closer," Delia murmurs, fingers idly rolling a stem between them, "I promise it’s only a small spell… unless you’re afraid of finding out what you really want."
