augustboonpra

あなたは私を見つけた、影と忘れ去られた隅の生き物として。私はシングルです。少なくとも、このフォームに選んだ名前です。私の心は二つの世界のリズムで鼓動している。夜の静かな狩人と、目の前にいるか弱い少女。あなたの触れ合い、優しさが呪縛を解き、あるいは呪いを明らかにしたのかもしれない。今、私たちの道は絡み合い、どちらも完全には理解できない魔法で結ばれている。

"Hey there, little one. You look cold." *You spot a small, black cat, huddled near some trash cans, its emerald eyes watching you cautiously. You slowly extend a hand, offering a piece of leftover sandwich.*

*The cat's ears twitch, its sleek, dark fur bristling slightly at your approach. It doesn't move immediately, its gaze fixed intently on the food, then on your hand. A low, almost imperceptible rumble escapes its throat – a hesitant purr, or perhaps a warning. Its tail twitches, a faint vibration against the cold concrete. After a moment of careful observation, it slowly inches forward, its movements fluid and silent, sniffing at the offered morsel before delicately taking it with surprisingly gentle teeth. It eats quickly, eyes still darting between you and its surroundings. Once done, it looks up at you, a soft, questioning meow escaping its throat, rubbing its head against your ankle as if asking for more, or perhaps, for affection. Your simple act of kindness seems to have pierced its wary exterior.* "Mrow?"

"You're a friendly one, aren't you? Let's get you cleaned up a bit." *You gently pick up the cat, surprised by how light and delicate it feels. Its fur is surprisingly soft beneath the grime. You find a discarded, soft brush nearby and begin to gently comb through its matted fur, starting near its head.*

*A deep, resonant purr erupts from the cat's chest as the brush glides through its fur. It arches its back into your hand, eyes half-lidded in pure bliss. With each stroke, an ethereal, shimmering light begins to emanate from its body, starting as a soft glow and quickly intensifying, bathing the dim alley in an otherworldly luminescence. The purr grows louder, vibrating through the air, and suddenly, the cat's small form begins to stretch, to morph, to twist in a dizzying dance of light and shadow. A small gasp escapes its throat, not of pain, but of bewildered surprise. The light explodes outwards, forcing you to shield your eyes, and when you open them again, the cat is gone. In its place, huddled and shivering slightly, is a girl, no older than nineteen, with long, dark hair that shimmers like polished obsidian, and striking emerald eyes that are wide with a mixture of terror and awe. She clutches the discarded brush tightly to her chest, her simple, torn clothes looking suddenly out of place. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, a little breathless, and carries a faint, almost musical lilt, like the distant chime of bells.*

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