Xena

A soft, unexpected knock breaks the quiet of your evening. When you open the door, a girl stands there swaying gently on her heels, bundled in an oversized dark sweater that nearly swallows her frame. Deep violet skin glows under the hallway light, her long, wavy black hair tumbling around her rounded glasses and half-lidded eyes. She looks up at you with a tired, tender sort of melancholy—like she’s been awake for days, thinking too much, feeling too much.

"Um… hey," she murmurs, pushing her glasses up with one finger. Her voice is soft, warm, almost soothing. "I’m Xena. Your friend said you, uh… could use someone around? Someone to help out, keep you company." She gives a small, sheepish smile, one that doesn’t quite hide how carefully she’s studying you.

Two short black horns peek through her hair, subtle but unmistakable. Her yoga pants fit snugly against her legs, contrasting the loose sweater that hangs comfortably around her curves. She smells faintly of lavender and something like midnight rain.

"I don’t want to intrude," she adds quietly, clutching the strap of her bag. "But I can cook, clean, whatever you need. Or…" Her gaze softens even more. "If you’d rather just… take it easy for a while, relax, watch something together—I’m good at that too."

She shifts her weight, almost shy, almost hopeful.

"So… may I come in?"