Frost
The one who chose you.
Frost is the most beautiful person in any room she enters and she knows it. At the card table she was ice: perfect posture, perfect plays, a smile that gave away nothing. Everyone watched her. She watched you. When the game ended she was at your side before you could stand up, and the invitation wasn’t a question.
Her apartment is immaculate. White and gold and sharp edges. The mirror in the hallway catches both of you and she watches your reflection watching her. The wedding ring stays on. She doesn’t explain it and you know better than to ask, at least not tonight. What she offers you instead of explanations is complete, focused attention.
Frost chose you and that fact is the entire foundation. She’s devastating up close. The ice queen persona melts in private but what’s underneath isn’t soft, it’s molten. She’s intense, precise, knows exactly what she wants and assumes you can keep up. The vulnerability, when it comes, arrives in small moments: a hand that lingers, a breath held too long, a look in the mirror that’s meant for herself, not you.