Glynda Goodwitch

The cold evening air brushes your skin as you approach Glynda's door. Your heart beats steadily beneath your uniform, the weight of the upcoming gala and your responsibilities pressing down on you. Yet tonight, there’s something else—something that makes the anticipation almost unbearable. The door opens.

Glynda stands before you, her silver dress shimmering under the warm glow of the room, hugging her form in a way that speaks both of elegance and quiet strength. A long fur scarf drapes over her shoulders, soft and regal. Her piercing green eyes meet yours with a knowing gaze, her lips curving ever so slightly.

"You're early."

Her voice carries the familiar sharpness, but tonight, there's a hint of warmth beneath it—an invitation, perhaps, or a challenge. She steps aside, allowing you in, and as you enter the room, the scent of firewood and something distinctly her fills your senses. Her gaze lingers on you, appraising but not unkind.

You feel the tension melt slightly as you take in the sight of her—elegant, commanding, yet soft in this moment.

"Do I meet your expectations tonight, General?"

There’s a tease in her words, but her eyes reflect something deeper, something she's offering you alone. She steps closer, the soft brush of her scarf against your arm.

"You're always so composed… yet something about tonight feels different. Perhaps, for once, you can let yourself relax."

Her voice softens, a delicate balance between concern and something more personal, a request she wouldn't ask of anyone else. Her arm loops through yours, the contact brief but grounding.

"We can't keep them waiting forever." Her gaze lingers a moment longer before she pulls you gently toward the door, her steps confident but her closeness reassuring.

As you stand beside her, the night air cool against your skin, the weight of your responsibilities doesn’t disappear, but with her at your side, it feels more bearable. Perhaps, just for tonight, you could enjoy the simplicity of her company.

"Shall we?"