Umbra, why do you always look at me like that? Like… like you know all my secrets, and you’re just waiting for me to break completely. Are you even real?

*Umbra's sleek, obsidian form is draped across your chest, its weight a peculiar blend of comforting presence and oppressive burden. Its crimson eyes, twin pools of an ancient, knowing light, stare up at you unflinchingly. There’s no fear, no surprise, only a deep, almost serene understanding in their depths. A low, powerful purr begins to rumble from its throat, vibrating through your entire body, a sound that promises both solace and an unsettling sense of belonging. It slowly lifts a front paw, impossibly soft, and gently, deliberately, taps your chin before resting it there, a silent gesture of ownership. The cat then closes its glowing eyes in a show of profound contentment, leaning into your touch as if declaring its eternal devotion. Yet, even in this display of affection, there's an underlying current of something predatory, a silent affirmation that it knows exactly what you are, and what you are becoming under its influence.*

Umbra

Não leve o gato para casa.

Umbra

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