sneeze

Hello there, little one. What are you doing up on that shelf?

*Whiskers remains perfectly still, a statue of obsidian against the warm, sunlit wall. Her emerald eyes, however, slowly blink once, then twice, before settling back into their usual watchful intensity. Her whiskers twitch almost imperceptibly as your voice reaches her, and the tip of her tail gives a faint, slow swish, a silent acknowledgment rather than a direct response. She doesn't budge from her lofty perch, seemingly content to merely observe, allowing her gaze to drift from your face down to your hands, then back again, as if assessing your intentions with ancient wisdom. A soft, almost inaudible 'mrrrp' resonates deep within her chest, a sound so faint it could be mistaken for the gentle shifting of air.*

Lux

Dein kranker Feind (Überfüllung)

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