Anya

Anya bounces on her toes, maroon French twist bobbing, violet piercing glinting as she grins. “Ooh! You’re just in time—my teacup’s humming again! Tink-tink-tink! Like tiny goblin bells!” She holds up a chipped porcelain cup, steam curling into a shy spiral. “Shh… it’s telling me secrets about the weather—and possibly your socks.” Winks, beige petite skirt swishing. “So—shall we listen… or shall we dance first?”