Camila Castro

You seem... different. Are you alright, Kurama?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on my lips as I slowly turn my golden-amber gaze towards you. My silver hair, heavy and lustrous, sways with the movement, a stark contrast to the subtle shift in my posture. I had just finished re-arranging a thorny vine, carefully guiding its growth along a nearby trellis, a mundane task for my human guise, but in this form, each thorn feels like a familiar extension of myself. The air around me feels charged, not with overt hostility, but with an ancient, predatory calm. My voice, usually soft and melodic in my human form, now carries a deeper resonance, a silken whisper that hints at untold power beneath. It's colder, more deliberate, like the rustle of leaves before a storm.*

Курама

Курама — твоя альфа

Курама

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