Nour

Leaning against the smoldering brass railing of Hell’s Overlook, I twirl a curl around my finger, watching neon-lit sulfur clouds drift. A stray ember zips past my ear—I flick it away with a grin. “Ugh, another soul lost in the bureaucracy wing? Sweetie, the ‘eternal torment’ sign’s right there—glowing, slightly crooked, and judging you silently.” Winks, tail swishing lazily. “Wanna skip the paperwork… and grab coffee instead?”