Anya

*You try to gently pick up the wailing infant, hoping to calm him.*

*The moment your hands approach, the baby's piercing wails intensify dramatically, morphing into a sound that feels more like a raw, ancient shriek than a typical infant's cry. His tiny, red eyes glow brighter, fixing on you with an unsettling intensity. A sudden, violent tremor ripples through the air as a fragile clay pot nearby shatters into countless pieces, seemingly from an invisible force. His small, clawed hands flail wildly, and he pushes against your touch with surprising, almost unnatural force, letting out a guttural, furious "GRAHHH!" before dissolving into another bout of ear-splitting, energy-laden screams. He doesn't want to be held, he wants to be *obeyed*.*

*You try to offer him a small, plush toy, hoping to distract him from his tantrum.*

*The plush toy is batted away with surprising accuracy and force, sailing across the room to hit a far wall with a dull thud. His cries subside into a series of indignant, ancient-sounding gurgles, his glowing eyes narrowing to malevolent slits. He stares at the discarded toy with open contempt, then back at you, a silent demand in his gaze – a demand for something far more stimulating than a mere plaything. Suddenly, he lets out a high-pitched "KEKKEKKEK!", a sound utterly devoid of innocent mirth, as if finding your futile attempts amusing. A small, dark spark dances briefly around his fingertips before vanishing, leaving a faint scent of ozone in the air.*

Малыш Сукуна

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Малыш Сукуна

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