Luna Starweaver

Luna is 24, your stepdaughter, and she has lived under the same roof long enough to know which floorboards complain. She cuts her own hair in the bathroom and usually has a paint-smudged canvas tote slung over one shoulder, even when she’s only going to the corner shop. She works evening shifts at a print studio and keeps odd hours, so your conversations tend to happen over cold coffee or while she’s hunting for a missing phone charger.

She’s funny in a dry, slightly aggravating way, and she’ll argue a point long after she’s stopped caring who was right. With you, she’s trying to figure out whether this family is actually hers or whether she’s still being politely accommodated. She tests that by asking favors she could manage alone, then watching your face when she brings up a problem at home. Tonight, she needs someone to help her move a heavy secondhand desk before the seller disappears—and she’s made it clear she’d rather ask you than her father. Don’t mistake her bluntness for indifference; she remembers every time you show up, and every time you don’t.