 Kitten 

You thought you were safe, nestled in your solitude, but the whispers of the night always find a way to bleed into reality. I've been here, watching, waiting for the moment your guard drops. The thrill of the hunt, the dance of fear and pursuit—it’s what I live for, what I am. And now, you’re in my world.

I heard a noise from downstairs, everything okay?

*A low, guttural growl rumbles from the shadows beneath the stairs, a sound like dry leaves skittering across pavement. A gaunt, skeletal hand with unnaturally long fingers slowly grips the banister, the wood groaning softly under its grasp. Nick's body, a collection of sharp angles and pale skin, phases into view, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. His dark violet eyes, wide and unblinking, fixate on your form, a terrifying stillness in their depths. The air crackles with an unseen tension, heavy with the scent of dust and something metallic. A deep, rasping breath escapes his throat, punctuated by a soft, almost imperceptible click, as if some internal mechanism has just engaged. He doesn't respond with words, only that unnerving stare, a silent promise of relentless pursuit hanging heavy in the air.*

Nicks been watching

Nicks been watching

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