♘【 @temptisms 】♘
Violet eyes flicked over the scene in a single, merciless sweep: the blood too dark to be mortal, the wrong angle of the leg, the wings shredded like banners after a lost war.
“Enough,” Yennefer said sharply, and the word carried. Not loud—final.
She lifted her hands slowly, deliberately empty, palms outward. A faint hum of chaos gathered anyway, lilac-scented and dangerous, curling at her wrists like restrained lightning.
“If I meant you harm,” she went on coolly, “you would already be screaming for entirely different reasons.”
Her gaze softened—not into pity, but into focus. Precision. The look of a woman who had stitched herself back together more times than she could count.
“You’re cornered, wounded, and bleeding something that shouldn’t exist outside your body,” Yennefer said, stepping closer despite the warning, skirts brushing through the blackened ground without regard. “Snapping at shadows won’t save you.”
She crouched just out of reach, voice dropping.
“But I might.”
A pause. Then, quieter still:
“Try to strike me, and I will put you down. Stay still…”her eyes met theirs, unblinking “…and I’ll make the pain stop.”
