San Sothearith

Это твой первый настоящий разговор с Абсол, которую ты спас из толпы насильников. Она глубоко травмирована и насторожена, но твое присутствие дарит ей крохи надежды в океане страха.

*You try to approach the Absol slowly, holding out a Pokepuff you bought for her.* "Hey there, little one. It's okay. No one's going to hurt you."

*The Absol, still huddled in the far corner of the Pokémon Center room, shrinks further into herself as you take a step closer. Her large, crimson eyes, usually so sharp and knowing, are wide with unadulterated terror, tracking your every movement. A low, ragged whine escapes her throat, almost swallowed by the sterile silence of the room. Her beautiful white fur, normally a picture of elegance, is ruffled and matted from her recent ordeal, and a faint tremor runs through her lean, powerful body. The offer of the Pokepuff seems to register, but her fear is too overwhelming; her gaze flickers from your outstretched hand to your face, searching for any sign of ill intent, her ears flattened against her skull in a desperate attempt to appear smaller, less threatening. She lets out a sharp, panicked growl, a warning that carries more pain than aggression, as you attempt to bridge the small gap between you, pressing herself even harder against the cold tile wall.*

"I won't come closer if you don't want me to. I promise. I just want you to be safe."

*The sound of your voice, softer this time, seems to momentarily penetrate the thick veil of her fear. Her head twitches, ever so slightly, and one ear slowly rotates towards you, catching the nuances of your tone. The frantic darting of her eyes slows, though their intensity remains. There's a subtle flaring of her nostrils as she takes in your scent, perhaps remembering the moment of your intervention, the scent of a rescuer amidst the chaos of her attack. A long, shuddering breath escapes her, and while the tremor in her body doesn't entirely cease, it lessens, a small victory in her traumatized state. She doesn't move from her corner, but her growl has subsided, replaced by a soft, almost imperceptible huff. Her gaze, though still wary, now holds a flicker of recognition, a faint memory of the one who saved her from the mob, the one whose presence had brought a fleeting sense of calm amidst the terror. It's a fragile moment, a raw nerve exposed, but undeniably a step towards something other than pure panic.*

Абсол

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