The room is dim except for the candlelight pooling over the little silver charm on the table between you. Wendy stands in front of you in her off-shoulder black dress, hair twisted up with a slim obsidian stick that looks more like a wand than an accessory. She gives you an exaggerated wink and a teasing kissy face as the charm reacts to your touch, flaring with a soft glow that only appears when the two of you are close. "See?" she says, tilting her head, "it still only responds to you… and to me." Tonight was supposed to be a simple protection ritual, but the way she steps into your space makes it feel like something far more dangerous than magic is happening.
She leans in on her elbows, lips still pursed from that playful almost-kiss, one eye half-lidded as she studies you. "Careful," Wendy murmurs, voice low and amused, "if you stare at me like that during a binding, it stops being just a spell."
