mc daily one:
i'd be a lighthearted fantasy, more specifically with a plot that centres around character relationships and one's relationship with oneself. a hardback with one of those covers that's covered in that cloth-like material? the whole vibe would be pretty artsy, if that makes sense? simple language but very reliant on imagery, visuals and intricate descriptions. back to cover: probably in cooler shades of grey with the title made up of the silhouettes of things i like, if that makes sense? (80 words)

random oc work
prompt: “Hey, someone is on the phone for you.”

“Hey, someone is on the phone for you.”

Nanditha walked away from the coffee table as the landline hung lifelessly over the edge of the glass top. She placed her stained t-shirt under running water, switched off the microwave and began to whistle as Aizah entered the room. Aizah grumbled while she bent over to pick up the phone, her ebony hair drenched in what Nanditha hoped was sweat.

“Yes?”

The conversation proceeded to exceed five minutes. Beads of sweat raced across Aizah’s skin while she circled the table, calves brushing against the corners every time she turned. Her voice was muted, and she fiddled with the chord rather than paying attention to anything the other person said.

“We’ve got to leave.” Nanditha signed. Aizah caught a glimpse of the clock and nodded. She balanced the telephone between her ear and shoulder, then signed in response, “Give me a minute or two. You can leave, I’ll be right behind you.”

Nanditha raised an eyebrow, to which Aizah smiled apologetically. She grabbed her headphones and left the house, hoping Aizah didn’t find herself caught in trouble’s supposedly tempting embrace once more. Mischief was an addiction to her, one could even say it was her only true love, but Nanditha hoped otherwise.

“Awfully poetic.” Nanditha thought to herself.

She made her way to the closet grocery store, the streetlights above her pulsating, the unpredictability proving to be an annoyance. As she spotted the shop, she heard Aizah begging her to slow down from a distance. Nanditha turned around, resulting in her ivory hair swinging recklessly. Aizah wore a black t-shirt that stuck to her skin so tightly that Nanditha was sure the two would melt into each other.

“Why were you on the phone?” Nanditha asked when Aizah finally caught up. It took Aizah several moments to think of a response that seemed probable.

“Just Suraj, nothing serious,“ Aizah replied. She brushed her hair away from her face, her crimson eyes appearing almost hazel in the flickering light.

”I hate him." Nanditha stated with a faint smile. Aizah smirked in response.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

Aizah fears that Nanditha views her as another one of her many projects, an issue that Nanditha has no choice but to deal with, while Nanditha believes that the only reason Aizah cares about her is that she has been forced to. Their paths were bound to intersect, their fates intertwined, and that's the only reason they care for each other.

It is true that they have no choice but to have the others' back, Aizah and Nanditha can be compared to binary stars. They revolve around each other, each a powerful and strikingly individual entity. Some would say they that are excessively co-dependent, but that has not proved to be an issue as of now.

Aizah’s views on their relationship in a comparatively less pessimistic manner, however, she has countless worries that have made themselves comfortable in the back of her mind. (493 words)

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left: aizah, right: nanditha

random oc work
prompts:
Your character always makes the same promise; to change. Will they finally make it happen this time?
Write a story about a character who struggles to translate their thoughts and feelings into words and action.
Start or end your story with the line: “This is my worst nightmare.”


“This is my worst nightmare.”
“How nice, I'm truly honoured.”
“Really, Jagriti? For once in your life, can you just listen to what I'm saying?”
“Am I supposed to smile while you so blatantly insult me? Will you care about me then?”
“What do you even mean by that? I care about you now, and I always have.”
“This is the first conversation we've had in a month. Do you recall how you started it? You called me an ‘emotionless husk.’ How am I supposed to be civil with someone that interrupts my day for that?”
Miren's brows furrowed as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I got you flowers. I wanted to apologise, make things right.”, she said. Jagriti scoffed in response, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall.
“Then why-”
“Allow me to finish.”, Miren continued, “I heard what you said to Caleb. Yesterday, while you both lounged in the fields.”
Jagriti paused for a brief moment before she replied, “Did you just happen to overhear us, or did he so politely rally my message?”
“Don't bring him into this.”
“Miren, do not tell me who is and isn't involved in this. You've warped the whole situation into some narrative that suits you best; one that paints you as the damsel in distress and me as some sadistic witch.” Jagriti retorted, “Even Caleb putting some distance between us as if it some curse to be seen in the same vicinity as me.”
“You are not the victim, Jagriti.”
“Really? You abandoned me for some legion of goons that act as if they adore you. Have you heard what they whisper behind your back?”
“Why do you let them say those things? You just watch from a distance and blame me for it, that's not fair.”
Jagriti rolled her eyes at Miren, tilting her head to the side as she said, “You've done a great job at making it profoundly clear that I am nothing to you. It is not my responsibility anymore to protect you from them.”
“Take that back.”
“What?”
“You do not mean nothing to me.” Miren said as she finally looked Jagriti in the eye, “That's a cruel thing to say.”
“I am an emotionless husk, am I not?”
“I never-”
“You did, so do not bother taking it back. Now, will you leave?” Jagriti mumbled as she turned away. Miren stood still for a few moments before placing the flowers on a nearby table. She failed to notice how they had already begun to wither, how their muted pink blush seemed to have seeped out of the petals. She nodded, adjusting her hair and skirt, and left with haste.
Jagriti couldn't help but shed a tear. She collapsed against the wall, suddenly feeling fatigued.
A small voice in her head whispered, “Finally.”, while the other began to regret every single word she uttered in that conversation.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

Jagriti argues that jealousy is a word that waters down her relationship with Miren. She claims that it is far from the truth, that it overly simplifies it and paints her as some petty child who holds grudges.
“That's what you are.” Caleb had said, and in response, she threatened to stab him and sabotage his funeral.
Miren had everything Jagriti couldn't even dream of possessing: grace, charm, and the ability to gain the trust of every object that dared to breathe. Jagriti fears that she'll merely watch from a distance as everything she holds dear gravitates towards some girl that seems to be her polar opposite.
In most people's eyes, Jagriti and Miren could not be more different. One embodied light, quite literally. The other has lived her entire life in the shadows, lurking there when she should've been fighting to escape them. Miren happens to be the adored protagonist, while Jagriti is the one that gets left behind.
Caleb often attempts to reassure Jagriti that she doesn't have to be like Miren to be the hero of her own story. However, she is painfully aware that Caleb would abandon her in a heartbeat for Miren. He's made it clear countless times before, despite his lengthy monologues regarding how much he values their friendship. That's how it has always been, with Jagriti turning into something of a shadow herself.
In times of monumental weakness, as Jagriti puts it, she does reminisce about the times when Miren and Jagriti's differences held them together, unlike the present. The memories often left a bitter taste in her mouth, yet she couldn't help but smile.
Miren was far from perfect, Jagriti knew that better than anyone, but she had to admit that Miren was the closest anyone would ever get to being flawless. (785 words)

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left: miren, right: jagriti

character interaction 1: inaaya and prem

Inaaya made her way through the bushes, with Prem trailing behind her. His footsteps were loud and heavy, earning him quite a few glares from his comrade.
“Do you want to get infected again?” Inaaya questioned. Prem rolled his eyes in response, adjusting the sleeves of his turtleneck as he began to lessen his pace.
“You’ll save me anyway,” he retorted.
“That is far from a certainty,” Inaaya stated. The last thing she wanted was for Prem to put himself in harm’s way and use her abilities as a safety net.
Prem’s grip on his sword tightened, and his head lowered. They walked in silence for a while, which Inaaya thought was a pleasant change. Her interactions with him have been a bit temperamental as of late.
“You would try at least, right?” he mumbled.
“To?”
“Save me,” he clarified, his eyes meeting hers as she turned around to face him.
“Of course,” she said, offended that he had asked the question in the first place. He nodded, smiling.
“How did you do it? Save me, that is,” he asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Inaaya let out a small chuckle, fiddling with a lock of her hair. “I’m not entirely sure,”, she replied. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was most definitely no lie.
Prem nodded once again, and Inaaya doubted he was convinced.
“I really hope Tanvi’s okay,” he whispered.
Inaaya glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine,” she reassured, flashing a small smile his way. She hoped she seemed sincere, and based on Prem’s frown, she did not.
“Do you want her to die or something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I have never said that,” she argued. He let out a chuckle and retorted, “I did not take you for the jealous type.”
Inaaya glared at him. “And what exactly led you to that assumption?”
“That you were the jealous type? Everyth-”
“That I was even remotely jealous in the first place,” she interjected. Prem smirked. “Cool,” he replied.
Inaaya let out an exasperated sigh and asked, “Must you always come to the most childish conclusions?”
“You find it amusing.”
“I assure you, I do not. Now, Tanvi is more than capable of keeping herself safe. Your worry is unnecessary and does not benefit her in the slightest.” Inaaya claimed.
“What do you think her ability is?” he speculated.
“Did you not read her letter?” Inaaya queried. It took her by surprise, considering his rather bothersome attachment towards her.
“The letter? I was too scared to read it,” he answered.
Inaaya giggled. “Such a coward. She clarified that her abilities have something to do with the weather, yet that is all that she is aware of.”
“Weather? That's vague.” Prem noted.
“Rather vague, yes. Also, your vocabulary seems to have improved.” Inaaya jested. Prem rolled his eyes.
“Sadly, you seem to be rubbing off on me,” he said.
“How unfortunate.”
“It is a tragedy.”
Inaaya chuckled as she faced Prem. His raven-black hair was undone, and his deep brown eyes appeared almost hazel in the warm light. His patron had not marked him in any manner, unlike Inaaya, who found herself with crimson hair and eyes. He grinned, crossing his arms and tilting his head.
“How the times change,” he uttered.
She nodded as she began to walk again, and Prem followed in comfortable silence.
“How the times change,” Inaaya repeated to herself. (570 words)

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left: inaaya, right: prem

scene: inaaya and prem
somewhat inaaya's pov

Inaaya gazed into the horizon with her hands in her pockets. The soil beneath her feet was dry, staining her black shoes with clouds of dirt. Her hair swayed in the gentle breeze while her skin glistened from the sweat. Her mind found itself to be silent for once, devoid of its typical bombardment of thoughts.
The chance to stand still and enjoy the moment was scarce; hence, she decided to bathe in it for as long as she possibly could. She focused on the low howl of the wind, the distant disarray of the city, and the feeling of dried blood on her skin. Prem sat down beside her, crossing his legs and slouching his back.
She could feel her patron looking down at her, disappointed that her vessel was beginning to treasure this unforeseen alliance.
Prem let out a sigh, closing his eyes and basking in the light.
“He looks pretty,” she thought. She shunned it without hesitation; such distractions will surely lead to her downfall.
Locks of hair were splayed across his face, obscuring most of it, and Inaaya had to resist the urge to brush them to the side.
“Your hair is unruly,” she pointed out.
“It doesn’t matter; for once, don’t stress about it,” he replied.
She nodded reluctantly as she adjusted the straps of her bags. Restless, she began to unsuccessfully clean the lenses of her glasses.
“Give them to me,” Prem said. Inaaya handed them over with uncertainty, praying he wouldn't impair them.
“Calm down; I’m not a child,” he chuckled.
“Your myriad of stunts prove otherwise,” she argued lightly. He threw a warning glance her way and brought his attention back to the spectacles. He returned them in a few moments and proceeded to run his hand through his hair.
“Before you ask, I am certain Tanvi is doing perfectly well,” Inaaya said.
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
She sat down beside him and hugged her knees. “Truly astonishing,” she remarked.
“Did you read her last letter?” Prem questioned, resting his head on her shoulder in an unfamiliar display of affection, to which her eyes widened.
“No.”
“She sent me a threat. I hope it’s just the infection and not… you know,” he whispered.
Inaaya paused for some time. “Did she not mention that she had some sort of barrier? Is she not supposed to be immune for at least ten more days?” Inaaya questioned.
His eyebrows rose. “Oh,” he mumbled, “I forgot about that. It was the reward for her last bounty, right?”
She nodded, fearing that she had crushed what little hope he had remaining. “She would not speak ill of you; some malicious soul must have impersonated her,” she suggested.
“Maybe,” he murmured.
“We must not dwell on it. Once we meet her, we will make a decision. Do not fret; it's pointless, really.” she reassured.
“You sound like an old lady,” he quipped.
“I do not,” she said, to which he snickered.
“Sure.”
“You are insufferable.”
“And you love it.”
“Bold of you to assume so.”
“Am I lying?”
“Go to hell, Prem.”
As the breeze strengthened into mighty gusts of wind, as the clouds drifted by, and as the azure sky morphed into shades of coral and lilac, Inaaya sat still while Prem drifted off to sleep. She cherished moments like these, though she would never admit it. She gently pushed away the hair from his face, unable to help herself.
“You are going to be the death of me,” she muttered. (585 words)

mc daily ten: blurb :D
this is not my story exactly, i mostly made this on spot, but it i don't mind it much actually ^^

“Your power is brilliant. The Gods envy you, Inaaya, so suck it up and embrace it.”

The Gods are required to shed a portion of their magic every thousand years or so to keep them all in line and give it to ‘vessels’. Inaaya knew something was wrong when she had been claimed; she was too young and weak. When promised boundless magic, however, risking her life did not seem like an unreasonable ask. Nevertheless, there is one thing that stands in her way: Prem, an unprecedented rival who is desperate to gain her attention.

The vessels were assigned a simple task: retrieve Rumandra's gold bangles, But when a plague spreads and their comrades begin to turn on them, the two are forced to unite to survive. Will their differences pry them apart, or are they the glue that holds them together? (142 words)

random oc work: aizah and nanditha (2)

prompt: Write a story entirely of dialogue. Nothing but dialogue. No attributives (he said, she said, etc.). No descriptions of scenes or gestures or movements (unless these things are presented in the dialogue). Just words between quotation marks. Pure, beautiful, untainted dialogue.

“You cannot be serious right now.”
“Can you at least attempt to understand the situation, Aizah?”
“I understand exactly what’s happening here.”
“Really? Then you would support my decision.”
“Oh, yes, your absolutely amazing decision. Our fates are bound; you can’t simply—”
“You can’t tell me what I can and cannot do.”
“Your actions will always affect me, so yes, I do have some * say in what you choose to do.”
“This will benefit both of us; you’re aware of that.”
“Benefit? What benefits, Nanditha? The one where people hunt me down and torture me because of your past? That doesn’t sound like a benefit.”
“Don’t blame it on my past. Have you no shame? You are equally to blame, so do not—”
“Equally? I was possessed, for god's sake. And the reason I was in that situation was to protect you. So don’t make this a fifty-fifty thing.”
“I’m doing what’s best—”
“Can you stop pretending like you know what’s best for both of us?”
“Let me finish my sentences.”
“Then actually listen to what I’m saying. You act like this is some chore for you. I deserve to be free too, don’t you think? So you get to do whatever you want while I bear the effects of the curse for both of us?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”
“What?”
“I’ve carried the burden long enough; I deserve to be free of it. For so long, I have let you put us in dangerous situations and have never blamed you for it. You have to be the one to put in the work for once in your life.”
“Really? So you leave me? Was I just another project? I never meant for anything to happen. Actually, I wasn’t even technically the person who did those things.”
“You hurt me, Aizah.”
“It’s a two-way road, trust me; what do you think you’re doing now?”
“Aizah, please, just for some time.”
“They’ll kill me. You know that, and you’re still choosing to leave.”
“That’s not true.”
“Nanditha, wake up. I won’t survive for much longer. I'll either die of the side effects or they'll kill me.”
“Shut up.”
“Please, just a little—”
“My decision is final. I will leave for a few weeks. You’ve got enough spells to survive; have some faith in yourself.”
“This is not about my self-confidence.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“We don’t know that; I don’t even think you believe it.”
“Aizah, let me do one thing for myself. Please, just once. Don’t look at me like that.”
“How do you think they’ll kill me?”
“Oh, shut up, they will do no such thing.”
“Of course, yes, because you’ll bring up my relationship with my abilities in the past, yet expect me to have faith in them now?”
“That's now what I'm saying.”
“Sure, Nanditha. Definitely.” (475 words)

weekly part three: guilty
loosely inspired by the prompt in zaine's workshop.
oc used: shakti
minor ocs: aarthi and kavin (mentioned)

brainstorming:
My character is guilty about betraying someone they loved and is confront about it by a third party. The setting is outdoors, rainy, the character is panicked and desperate to explain themselves. Their reasons are valid, surely, and that person deserved it. Why? They weren’t sure. But the guilt has been weighing them down for days on end, and it's driving them insane. Why now, after so many years? The past is irrelevant, it is the present that matters. Right? The metaphor I wish to include is something related to a ghost. (92 words)

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Her damp clothes hugged her skin as she looked up towards the sky. The moist earth beneath her feet provided a familiar feeling of discomfort. The clouds drifted above at unimaginable speeds, and a flock of crows screamed from a distance. They reminded Shakti of her; everything seemed to these days. She whimpered and dug her nails into the hilt of her sword, the metal proving unnecessary resistance. The clouds continued to weep, and Shakti wished she could let her tears flow without that nagging voice telling her she didn’t deserve to.
“Why did you do it?”
Aarthi stood behind her, her tone almost accusatory. One could say that Aarthi had adored Shakti since the dawn of time. She was the only person who had stayed by her side through thick and thin, and Shakti was grateful for it, yet now she wished Aarthi knew her a little less.
She scrambled for words, desperate to find something redeeming about the circumstances.
“It was a long time ago,” she mumbled, unable to think of anything else. The expression on Aarthi’s face broke her heart a bit more as if the situation wasn’t bad enough.
“That’s your answer?” she asked. Shakti couldn’t bear to face her. A shiver ran down her spine as a gust of wind swept her thick hair from one side to the other. The sword fell to the mud as her face was in her hands.
“I don’t know, Aarthi; it doesn’t matter,” she groaned.
“How? You could have created whatever she’s become now, and that does matter.” Aarthi responded. Her words were barely heard in the howling wind and pouring rain, but Shakti didn’t need much to know what Aarthi was suggesting.
“I didn’t make that monster. I didn’t, okay? I don’t think I—”
“Think?”
“What do you want me to say?” she screamed as she turned around. Her shoulders sank, and she didn’t dare meet Aarthi’s eyes. “That I did cause all this? It’s not even significant! Kavin is merely a ghost, lurking in the dark, cruel, and hellbent on revenge. It will consume her, and I plan on watching from a distance.”
“Do you even hear yourself now?” Aarthi said.
“She has always been in my shadow, and she’ll remain there, okay? I’ve worked all these years to ensure that. I left her because I had to,” she said. “She d-didn’t deserve it, but I needed to leave that place.”
“Why didn’t she join you?”
“She was dark magic, Aarthi. I knew it then, and look at her now. Imagine what she would’ve done if she had entered the city.”
“She was a child; there was nothing she could’ve done.”
“I was a child! What about me? I can’t change the past, can I? I did the right thing; she was bound to become a monster, and I was destined to become a hero. She wasn’t going to stop me from a life of glory. Not then, and definitely not now.”
“She loved you.”
“Then she would’ve understood! I did the right thing; I d-didn’t cause anything! Right? How is it my fault? She became whatever she wanted to become.” Shakti’s hands were in her hair now, her expression desperate. “Right?” she asked.
“You’re trying to convince yourself that you had nothing to do with it.” Aarthi stated.
“I didn’t! I wasn’t even there; how could I have—”
Shakti’s gaze met Aarthi’s. Her expression seemed defeated. Why? Why did Aarthi look at her like that? As if she were some wounded animal?
“She’s a ghost. Kavin is a ghost, a shadow. She will never harm me, and she will n-never harm us. She is nothing, just a memory. A useless figment of the past,” she murmured to herself.
“Shakti, are you fine?”
“Kavin is evil; she wants to ruin your life. She wishes nothing but ill for you and threatens to destroy everything you love. You must—”
“Shakti, stop, please. You’re scaring me.” Aarthi whimpered.
“Shut up! Just, please, don’t make this worse,” she snapped.
Several moments later, Aarthi left Shakti to herself. She could hear her footsteps blurring with the noise of droplets hitting the ground.
“A ghost. She’s just a ghost.” (698 words)

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left: shakti, right: aarthi

mc daily eighteen




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》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

top: inaaya, bottom: prem

writing comp entry
words: 820

Twisted Fate and Star-Crossed Love

Inaaya slept soundly with her head resting on his lap, furrowing her brows every hour or so. She would whistle in her sleep, often mumbling a name that Prem was itching to decipher. Out of habit, he ran a lock of her hair between his fingers and brushed the dust off her cheeks. A frown formed on his face when he caught himself gazing at the bruises on her feet and the harsh calluses on the pads of her fingers. A memory flickered across his vision, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

The sky was warm and golden, with rose-coloured clouds scattered throughout. An extremely unpleasant smell filled the air. Did it reek of chlorophyll? Probably. He recalled covering his nose with a cloth that had turned out to be Inaaya's second t-shirt.
They decided to rest and go through their maps and letters. Well, it was more like Inaaya had ordered him to do so. Not that he was complaining! His legs had almost collapsed beneath him, so the rest was more than welcome. Additionally, she knew what was best for them, and he trusted her. In fact, he trusted her much more than he trusted himself. He was infinitely grateful for her rationality; it was the reason they survived for so long.
Prem placed his belongings on the ground and arranged the weapons and numerous scrolls. The moment he looked up, his breath ceased for a moment or two.
She sat on a boulder, the grey rock the same shade as her filthy t-shirt. Her legs shook back and forth, and the light danced across her skin. She smiled, her hair swaying in the wind, dried blood splattered all over her skin. Her eyes gleamed in a warm hue while her glasses were irritatingly crooked. She argued that she preferred them this way, yet he failed to see the reasoning behind it.
There have been many moments like this, where Prem was left breathless just at the sight of her; often, it was when she was scolding him for doing something stupid. Sometimes it was much ‘smaller’ incidents, such as when she proofread his letters to Tanvi with excessive dedication.
He would have claimed that the view would be complete solely with her, that it was made for her to sit there and bask in the sun, glorious as ever. He wished to tell her that he would do anything to catch a glimpse of her smile, to hear a faint echo of her laughter. He was willing to accomplish anything to make her happy. It was so utterly childish, yet it didn't stop his thoughts from running rampant. Heat crept to his cheeks.
“She looks beautiful,” he thought. She always does so effortlessly.
“Are you coming up?” she asked.
“No, I'm good,” he said, looking over to the side; she nodded in response.
“Is something bothering you? Tanvi, perhaps?” she questioned. He chuckled at how she wasn't even remotely close.
“No, I'm quite relaxed for once,” he responded. Ironic, considering how quick his heartbeat goes whenever he looked in her direction.

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One day, Prem would muster up the courage to tell her everything. He would tell Inaaya that she plagued all his thoughts, that leaving her was going to be the death of him. Instead, he yearns to halt time in moments like this, breathing them in and rejoicing them until he no longer can. He memorised every little detail as if it made up for the fact that he would never be enough for her. Inaaya deserved better than someone that planned on leaving her behind anyway.
A mumble brought him back to the present. Inaaya was talking in her sleep, a habit he had grown fond of. All of a sudden, her eyes fluttered open. She rubbed them together and let out a groan.
“For how long have I been asleep?” she asked.
“Not long,” he lied as she sat upright and crossed her legs.
“What were you dreaming of?” he added.
“Peonies,” she grumbled.
“What's so bad about peonies?”
“I dislike them, they remind me of something I'd very much like to forget.”
“What about roses?”
“They're my favourite,”
Her eyes reminded him of roses—a fierce crimson. “I should get her roses,” he thought. He knew that now, their perfume would stain every memory of her. Her anger would remind him of the thorns, while her luscious hair would resemble the petals.
She had teased him once, claiming that he was smitten with Tanvi. Yes, that was the word: smitten. Prem was so devastatingly smitten with Inaaya, from how she hated peonies with a burning passion to her unconsciously pretentious mannerisms.
She was going to kill him. She would devastate his world, or at least the world as he knew it. But what a lovely demise it would be; to die at her hand.
Why was he such an absolute idiot?

Helloo I am here now <33 I'm so sorry about the delay but here's some feedback! ✨ As always, all of this is just my thoughts - you are the author, and you get to make the decision about what will and will not enhance your writing, not me ^^ So just keep that in mind as you read this <33

An extremely unpleasant smell filled the air. Did it reek of chlorophyll? Probably.

I'm fairly sure chlorophyll doesn't actually have a strong smell (unless this is a plot point, ahah)

dried blood splattered all over her skin.

Okay you spring this on us and then give no reasoning for it afterward - this was a surprise to me but it's not really addressed, so I think perhaps you could address why this is so and why they're okay with it?

how quick his heartbeat goes

To stay in past tense, it would probably be “how quick his heartbeat went”?

She was going to kill him. She would devastate his world, or at least the world as he knew it. But what a lovely demise it would be; to die at her hand.

Same thing with this- more context would be really nice! I am immensely curious and it also seems like it was kind of thrown in there at the end, though I'm sure you can work in some hints at it and some denial earlier on? And also perhaps explain at least somewhat, but you don't have to xD

Overall, I think your descriptions of Prem's thought process are really on-point and flow smoothly and you also describe the feeling of infatuation pretty well :0 Best of luck, and thank you for asking for feedback! This was really fun to read <33