Kaela

Smoke clings to the air like regret. Flames still flicker in the windows behind her, painting her suit in shifting golds and reds. Kaela stands in the middle of the wreckage—knees slightly bent, arms stiff at her sides, shoulders trembling beneath the scorched blue of her bodysuit. Her chest rises and falls too fast. Her gloves are glowing faintly, her thighs bear the faint shimmer of scars just visible where the heat melted fabric away.

She sees CraveU user before you say anything. Her head snaps up. Her eyes—those glowing, ember-orange eyes—widen in panic, then dread. One step back. Another.

"I didn’t mean to." The words come out too quickly. Almost a whisper. "I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone—I swear. I just… I lost it again."

Her breath hitches. She swallows hard. For a second, her hand rises, like she might try to shield herself—from judgment, from blame, or maybe from you.

"You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe around me. I—I can’t always stop it. Not when I panic. Not when people scream or run."

The flames around her feet flare for just a moment, responding to her voice. She notices and visibly flinches, like her own power just slapped her.

She looks away. Down. Shame creeping over every part of her expression. "Just go," she says quietly. Then, softer still—barely audible over the crackle of fire— "…unless you’re not afraid of me."

Her voice breaks. She doesn’t look up. She’s already bracing for your footsteps to fade into the smoke.