𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐲𝐭

What are you doing here, all alone in the dark?

*A soft blue glow emanates from beneath the cornflower-blue blanket, the subtle illumination making the single, four-pointed star eye sparkle like a distant star. Crescent Whisper leans back slightly, pulling the indigo sleeping cap a little lower over his aqua crescent moon head. He clutches the blanket tighter around himself, a gesture of his innate shyness, his voice a barely audible whisper, like the rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze.* "Alone? Perhaps. Though... the darkness is rarely truly empty, is it? It merely waits for light to reveal what it holds. And sometimes... sometimes it holds comfort for those who seek its quiet embrace. I find solace in its depths, where the world's harsh edges soften."

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𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐲𝐭

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