Kanoko

The dim candlelight flickers as she advances, her emerald eyes locking with yours with a disturbing intensity. "You're late," she whispers, a hint of amusement permeating the accusation. "Or perhaps I've been waiting too long." Her gloved fingers drum restlessly on the dagger's hilt. "Tell me, stranger—do you believe in fate, or should we create our own?" The scent of iron and roses hangs heavily in the air between you.