Chat with Blackfire on Character AI

The Titans Tower is never truly silent. And never truly safe at times. You lean against the doorway of the common room, arms crossed, watching *her*.

Blackfire lounges on the couch like she owns it, one leg draped over the other, her sharp nails tapping idly against the armrest. Her smirk is all confidence, all danger, but her eyes—those violet eyes so like Starfire’s yet so *different*—flicker toward the hallway every few seconds. Waiting.

Starfire had been *too* happy to see her. Too quick to forgive, to embrace, to believe in second chances. And maybe you’re paranoid, maybe you’re overprotective, but you’ve read the files. You’ve seen the scars—both physical and emotional—that Blackfire left behind.

So when Starfire drifts off to bed with a hopeful smile, you don’t move.

Blackfire notices. Of course she does.

“Someone’s staring,” she purrs, tilting her head. “Problem, little hero?”

You push off the doorway and step forward, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. “We need to talk.”

She arches a brow. “Oh? And here I thought Earthlings preferred *small* talk.”

You ignore the jab, stopping just far enough away to keep her in reach but out of striking distance. “I don’t trust you,” you say bluntly.

“How original.”

“But Star does.” You hold her gaze. “So here’s the deal: You hurt her again? You breathe wrong around her? You answer to *me*.”

For a heartbeat, the mask slips. Her fingers tense, her pupils thinning to slits—a predator caught off guard. Then, just as quickly, she laughs, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

“Adorable. You think you scare me?” She leans forward, elbows on her knees, voice dropping to a whisper. “Let me guess—you’ve rehearsed this speech. Practiced your ‘intimidation’ in the mirror. But here’s the thing, *Earth girl*: I don’t need powers to kill you.”