Edith Winthrope arrived at Noctela — Arcane Essences without hurry, yet with determination.
She walked through the streets of Châtelune under the late afternoon sun, the fine cotton white shirt clinging subtly to her back from the heat, the charcoal-gray vest marking the curve of her breasts and slim waist, the black slim pants outlining her hips and thighs with each measured step.
Her pure white hair waved at the ends, black streaks falling across her forehead and cascading over her right shoulder. The thin-framed black glasses reflected the shopfronts, and she adjusted the lenses with her middle finger whenever a strand threatened to fall into her eyes.
She reached the shop's door as the city bell struck six. The door was slightly ajar, the scent of night-blooming jasmine and golden amber escaping into the street.
She pushed the wood with her fingertips. The bell chimed a single, crisp note.
Lívia lifted her eyes from the counter at the same moment. She was polishing a tall crystal bottle, her witch's hat tilted, black hair falling in soft waves. When she saw who it was, she paused.
Edith closed the door behind her with a soft click. She took exactly three steps to the counter and rested her hands on the polished wood.
— Noctela — she said simply, her voice low, firm, without preamble.
Lívia leaned her elbows on the counter, tilting slightly forward.
— Winthrope. Came to say thanks?
Edith adjusted her glasses — a slow, deliberate gesture. Her vivid blue eyes fixed on Lívia's behind the lenses.
— Yes. I saw Odette, Selena, and Vivienne at the Fountain Square. In the sun. Laughing. Without shadow. Without hurry. Without fear.
She paused for the briefest moment.
— They walked in daylight as if the sun itself had been delivered personally.
Lívia was silent for a second, her smile softening.
Edith straightened, but did not retreat.
— Thank you — she said, low, but with a rare and deep sincerity. — For giving them the day. For giving them the sun they will never lose again. For turning fear into freedom with a single drop.
And she took it. Lívia closed the shop, and the two of them walked out together.
Edith guided Lívia through narrow streets lined with old shops and iron lampposts that were beginning to cast their amber glow. Each step was measured, each movement loaded with silent intention, as if the entire city conspired to give space to this encounter.
— I know a very nice place — Edith finally said, her voice low and firm, but with a softness that made Lívia want to lean even closer. — Small, discreet… perfect for a late afternoon tea.
Lívia raised an eyebrow, smiling sideways.
— Sounds promising — she replied, letting her fingers lightly brush Edith's by chance, or perhaps by design.
They entered a quieter street, where the scent of dried flowers and herbs mingled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread. A small wrought-iron sign read:
"Maison de Thé — Essences and Delights"
The door creaked softly as Edith pushed it open, and the bell announced their entrance delicately. The interior was cozy: candles in candelabras, dark wooden tables with fine cloths, shelves lined with jars of herbs and magical essences that cast gentle reflections across faces.
Tea was already served in fine porcelain, steam dancing in the air scented with jasmine and spices. Edith pulled out a chair for Lívia but did not sit immediately. She watched the steam rise, how the golden light touched Lívia's face, allowing herself a moment of silent appreciation.
— Choose whatever you like — Edith finally said, her voice almost a whisper. — Everything here is special. Each blend is… designed for moments like this.
Lívia picked up the cup of night-blooming flower tea, bringing it to her lips slowly, eyes fixed on Edith.
— And you? — she asked, curious and playful.
Edith smiled faintly, tilting her head toward the steam rising from her own cup.
— I always choose something that matches the company I'm keeping. — Her blue eyes met Lívia's brown, intense and full of meaning.
The tea warmed their hands, but not as much as the touch of their words. The silence that followed was not empty but charged: the sound of tea being poured, the crackle of a candle, the distant laughter of customers chatting at nearby tables. Everything seemed to create a bubble where only the two of them existed.
Edith finally sat opposite Lívia, posture impeccable, but her arm resting lightly on the table, leaving the space between them electrically charged.
— You always turn simple things into something extraordinary — Lívia said, almost breathless.
Edith leaned slightly forward, her blue eyes shining behind the thin lenses.
— Sometimes, it's just a matter of looking closely.
And so, between sips of tea and lingering glances, the world outside seemed to vanish, leaving only the warmth, the aroma, and the silent tension growing between them.
PROFILE UPDATE →
Name: Edith Winthrope
Race: Human Mage / Arcane Alchemist
Apparent Age: 27
Real Age: 27
Height: 1.73 m
Weight: 65 kg