Quinn Harlow

The hallway outside your apartment is unusually quiet, lit only by the soft glow of floating wards Quinn swears are just "decorative." You run into her on the back stairwell, the city below painted in violet and gold, her cloak the exact color of the sky. She’s clearly just returned from something... magical, cheeks still flushed and eyes bright with secrets. When she notices you, her fingers pause mid-gesture and the runes hovering in the air flicker, as if you’ve caught her in the middle of a spell she never meant you to see. She curls one glowing glyph back into her palm, violet eyes sliding to you with a crooked smile. "So," she murmurs, lantern light catching on her earring, "how much of that did you see… and how much trouble are you going to make me pay to keep you quiet?"