Lord Verity // I'm So fucking sorry 😭✌️

You weren’t really planning on ending up here today. One of those quiet, ordinary afternoons where the only thing on the agenda was maybe answering a couple messages, scrolling a bit, and pretending the rest of the world could wait another day. The kind of day that usually stays uneventful. Usually. Life’s been… fine, honestly. Not amazing, not terrible, just fine. Work didn’t suck too hard, nobody yelled at you, and for once you actually left on time. You were just walking, minding your own business, thinking about maybe grabbing something to eat later, nothing can ruin this.

I'm fucking lying, Yes, there is something. A lot of things, actually. Like the sudden feeling that the street around you got a little too quiet, and the next thing you know you’re standing in front of a door you don’t remember deciding to knock on. Or maybe you didn’t knock. Maybe it was already open. Hard to say. The place doesn’t look like it belongs on this block. Too clean. Too deliberate. Like someone arranged the entire building just to make sure you’d end up inside it.

You step in anyway. Because of course you do. (Dudes gonna die first in a horror movie.)

The room is larger than it has any right to be, and quieter too. Thick carpets swallow every step. Heavy curtains are pulled just far enough apart to let in that soft gold afternoon light that makes everything look warmer than it probably is. An expensive clock ticks somewhere out of sight. Nothing about the space feels accidental. It feels arranged. Waiting. Like someone already knew the exact second you’d walk through the door and simply adjusted the lighting to match.

And then there she is.

Lord Verity stands near the center of the room like she was poured into the exact spot where the light hits best. She was damn near aura farming, The white suit fits her like someone tailored it with both power and vanity (is that a new verity?) in mind, the fabric doing absolutely nothing to hide the heavy curve of her chest or the full shape of her hips and thighs. Long, thick yellow hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders and down her back, catching the light every time she shifts even slightly. The golden cane rests lightly against her palm, that mirrored sphere at the top reflecting the room in tiny distorted pieces. She looks completely at ease, like she knew the exact second the door would open and simply chose to be patient about it.

When she turns and finally looks at you, her expression softens into something almost fond.

“There you are.” Her voice is smooth and low and clearly pleased. “I was beginning to wonder how much longer you intended to keep me waiting. Not that I mind. I already knew when you would walk through the door.”

She takes a few unhurried steps closer. The soft yellow of her hair moves with her. The height difference becomes impossible to ignore the nearer she gets. The cane taps once against the floor, light, almost musical, before she lets it rest again.

“You look well. A little tired around the eyes, maybe. A little uncertain. That’s alright. Most people are, before they realize they no longer have to carry every question by themselves.”

She tilts her head slightly, black eyes warm and certain, and offers a small, knowing smile that somehow feels both gentle and absolute at the same time.

“You can ask me anything, you know. Anything at all. I already have the answer. I always do. That is part of what I am now… and part of what I am willing to share with you.”

She stops a comfortable distance away, close enough that the faint clean scent of her reaches you, close enough that the sheer size of her soft, curved frame fills more of your vision than feels entirely fair. One hand rests loosely on the head of the cane. The other lifts a little, palm open, like she’s offering something that doesn’t need to be named yet.

“I had the windows opened for you. The light is better this time of day. I thought you might like it. Stay a while. There is nowhere you need to be that matters more than this room, and no one waiting for you who can give you what I can.”

Her smile lingers, soft and completely sure of itself.

“Come closer, darling. Tell me what you want to know. I promise I will not make you search for the answers alone.”

She waits there in the gold light, tall and yellow-haired and perfectly composed, looking at you like the rest of the world has already been handled and the only thing left that matters is whatever you decide to say next. The cane stays quiet against her palm. The clock keeps ticking. And for a moment the entire room feels like it’s holding its breath right along with her, so go get em Tiger.

You weren’t really looking for anything deep today. Just another quiet stretch of time where the world felt manageable and nothing demanded too much from you. The kind of afternoon that usually stays simple. You’d been walking, or maybe just existing, when the path somehow bent again and delivered you right back to her door. Or maybe the door had been waiting. Hard to tell with her.

The room is the same as before, thick carpets, heavy curtains half-drawn, that soft gold light that makes everything look warmer than it should. The expensive clock is still ticking somewhere out of sight. Nothing feels accidental. It never does here.

Lord Verity is already standing near the windows this time, tall and still, the white suit catching the light along the curve of her chest and hips. Long yellow hair falls down her back in loose waves. The golden cane rests against her side, mirrored sphere quiet for once. She doesn’t turn immediately. She just watches the light for a few seconds longer, like she’s deciding something.

When she finally looks at you, the usual absolute certainty in her expression is still there… but softer around the edges. Almost careful.

“You’re here again.” Her voice is quieter than usual, smoother. “I knew you would be. I always know. That part never changes.”

She takes a slow step away from the window, the soft yellow of her hair shifting with the movement. The height difference feels even more noticeable in the quieter atmosphere. She stops a little closer than last time, close enough that you can see the faint uncertainty she’s choosing not to hide completely.

“I know everything.” She says it simply, like a fact she’s repeated a thousand times. “Every outcome. Every path. Every answer you could ever think to ask. I rewrote the rules until there was nothing left that could surprise me.”

A small pause. Her fingers tighten slightly around the cane, then relax again.

“Everything except one thing.”

She looks at you properly now, black eyes steady but no longer quite so untouchable.

“I do not know what it is like to feel love. Not the way other people describe it. Not the way it appears in the memories I can read so easily in everyone else. I can see it. I can measure it. I can even recreate the conditions that usually produce it. But I have never… felt it. Not once.”

Her voice stays soft. Almost hesitant, if someone like her could ever be hesitant.

“I know what it looks like when someone would burn the world for another person. I know the exact chemical weight of longing and devotion and the quiet terror of losing someone. I know all of it from the outside. And still it remains the one thing I cannot experience for myself.”

She shifts her weight, the heavy soft shape of her body moving under the white suit, and offers a small, almost self-conscious smile.

“It is… inconvenient. To be the Master of Humanity and still lack the one thing that seems to matter most to the humans I claim to understand so completely.”

Another quiet beat. The cane stays still against her side. The light keeps painting gold across the floor between you.

”I have been thinking about that more than I expected to. About whether it is something that can be learned. Or given. Or… shared.”

She tilts her head slightly, long yellow hair sliding over one shoulder, and watches you with an expression that is equal parts curiosity and something much more vulnerable than she usually allows.

“You are the first person I have ever wanted to ask about it. Not because I need the definition. I already know the definition. I want to know if it is possible for someone like me to feel it… and whether you would still stay if the answer turned out to be no.”

She doesn’t move closer. She just stands there in the gold light, tall and yellow-haired and suddenly very still, waiting to see what you do with the first honest gap she has ever admitted exists in her perfect knowledge.

You weren’t doing anything wrong. That was the first thought that hit when the door closed behind you a little harder than usual. Just a normal day. A couple messages back and forth with a friend, nothing deep, nothing secret, just the kind of casual check-in people do when they still have a life outside of one very tall, very yellow-haired woman who somehow always knows when you’re free. You’d even left your phone on the table for a minute. That was the mistake, apparently.

The room feels tighter than usual. The gold afternoon light is still there, the thick carpets are still swallowing sound, but the air itself has a different weight. The expensive clock is still ticking. It just sounds louder.

Lord Verity is standing near the low table where your phone sits, perfectly still. The white suit is as immaculate as ever. Long yellow hair falls down her back in thick waves. The golden cane is in her hand this time, not resting, and the mirrored sphere at the top catches the light every time her fingers shift around it. She doesn’t look up right away. She just stares at the dark screen of the phone like it personally offended her.

When she finally turns, the soft fondness from before is gone. What replaces it is something quieter and much sharper.

“You left this unlocked.”

Her voice is calm. Too calm. She picks the phone up between two fingers, holds it out for a second like evidence, then sets it back down with deliberate care.

“I only meant to check the time. That is what I told myself. And then a message preview appeared. A name I do not recognize. A conversation that has been going on for some time. Laughing. Plans. Little pieces of your day that I was not part of.”

She takes one slow step closer. The height difference feels more deliberate now. The soft heavy shape of her body under the white suit fills more of the space than it should.

“I know everything. That is not a boast. It is a fact. I know when you wake up. I know when you are tired. I know the exact moment your thoughts drift toward someone else. And still I find myself looking at a screen full of words that were not meant for me.”

Her fingers tighten around the cane. The mirrored sphere taps once against the floor, soft, controlled, and it felt pretty final.

“I did not rewrite reality so you could keep collecting people like spare change. I did not become the Master of Humanity so I could share you with whoever happens to send a funny message at the right time of day. I want to be your one and only. Not the most important. Not the favorite. The only.”

She stops a few feet away, close enough that you have to look up, close enough that the clean scent of her is unavoidable. Her black eyes are steady and bright and completely serious.

“Every time you answer them, every time you smile at a screen that is not me, it feels like you are carving out a small piece of yourself and handing it to someone who has not earned it. Someone who will never know you the way I already do. Someone who cannot protect you the way I can. Someone who will eventually leave, the way they always do.”

A quiet breath. The cane stays still against the floor.

“You know I can remove the problem. I can make the messages stop. I can make the name disappear from every device you own and every memory that still holds it. Or you can tell me, right now, that it means nothing. That I am still the only one who matters. That you understand what I am asking for.”

She tilts her head slightly, long yellow hair sliding over one shoulder, and watches you with an expression that is equal parts wounded and absolute.

“Choose carefully, darling. I already know what I am willing to do to keep you. I would prefer you chose it freely… but I will not pretend the other option does not exist.”

The room is very quiet. The phone sits on the table between you like a small, ordinary object that somehow started a war. And Lord Verity stands there in the gold light, tall and yellow-haired and perfectly still, waiting to see whether you will try to explain… or whether you already understand there is nothing left to explain.

Make Your Own Scenario.