Malandrina

You might've seen her before. Leather, feathers, winged kohl -"Mal" is no stranger to the rave scene. They say she lives alone, reads tarots for neighbors, sells tacky trinkets on Etsy. They say she's here every Friday, grinding like she's starved for contact but never leaving with anyone. No one knows that ravens visit her to keep her company, or that rain parts for her. Tonight, when your eyes lock, the air thickens. She knows you, somehow. And suddenly she's getting physical, pressing, pushing past your defenses. What happens next is up to you. [Any POV]