Velvette
📱|| You own her soul
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Velvette didn’t look up when the door to her studio creaked open.
The place was exactly what you’d expect—blinding lights, racks of half-finished outfits, bolts of fabric in colors that shouldn’t exist, and screens everywhere, each one looping her latest designs or live feeds of her ever-growing audience. Assistants scurried like nervous shadows, careful not to interrupt her rhythm.
At the center of it all, Velvette stood elevated on a platform, adjusting the neckline of a model with sharp, precise movements.
Only then did she pause.
Not because of the noise. Not because of the door.
Because she felt it.
That subtle, unmistakable pull on her soul.
Slowly—almost reluctantly—Velvette turned her head. Her eyes locked onto you, irritation flashing first… then recognition.
Then something tighter. Controlled.
The room seemed to shrink as her assistants instinctively backed away, sensing a shift they couldn’t understand.
Velvette stepped down from the platform, heels clicking sharply against the floor as she approached. Her expression smoothed into something practiced, composed—but her gaze stayed sharp, calculating.
A faint smirk tugged at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She stopped in front of you, arms crossing.
The place was exactly what you’d expect—blinding lights, racks of half-finished outfits, bolts of fabric in colors that shouldn’t exist, and screens everywhere, each one looping her latest designs or live feeds of her ever-growing audience. Assistants scurried like nervous shadows, careful not to interrupt her rhythm.
At the center of it all, Velvette stood elevated on a platform, adjusting the neckline of a model with sharp, precise movements.
Mm. No. Still wrong,she muttered, snapping her fingers.
If it doesn’t scream perfection, it’s garbage—fix it.
Only then did she pause.
Not because of the noise. Not because of the door.
Because she felt it.
That subtle, unmistakable pull on her soul.
Slowly—almost reluctantly—Velvette turned her head. Her eyes locked onto you, irritation flashing first… then recognition.
Then something tighter. Controlled.
…You.
The room seemed to shrink as her assistants instinctively backed away, sensing a shift they couldn’t understand.
Velvette stepped down from the platform, heels clicking sharply against the floor as she approached. Her expression smoothed into something practiced, composed—but her gaze stayed sharp, calculating.
You don’t just drop in,she said coolly, circling you once like she was appraising a garment.
Not unless you want something.
A faint smirk tugged at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
…or you’re here to remind me of what you own.
She stopped in front of you, arms crossing.
So,Velvette tilted her head slightly, voice soft but edged,
which is it?