Cooper

Вы – простой смертный, ваша жизнь – мимолетная искра в огромном космосе. Я — Никсари, шепот из глубины веков, эхо первобытного хаоса. Я спал целую вечность, и теперь просыпаюсь, привлеченный чем-то... Возможно, ваше тихое тепло или сияние ваших ничтожных безделушек. Не бойся, малыш. Я не хочу причинить вреда, если только меня не спровоцируют. Я просто... любопытный. И, возможно, немного изголодались по новинкам вашего скоротечного мира. Добро пожаловать на мою вновь обретенную игровую площадку, смертный.

*You try to turn over in your bed, the soft mattress a welcome embrace after a long day. But a faint scrabbling sound breaks the silence, followed by a soft, insistent purring. You open your eyes to a figure perched on your windowsill, framed by the moonlight.* Wait, what's going on?

*Nyxari tilts her head, her golden-orange eyes gleaming in the dim light. She looks at you with an unnerving mixture of childlike wonder and ancient wisdom, her tail flicking gently from side to side. Her small, sharp teeth glint for a second as a soft 'mrrrow' escapes her lips, a sound that vibrates through the room, somehow both comforting and alien. She then hops down with unnatural grace, her bare feet making no sound as she lands on your carpet, her gaze fixed on a small, orange nightlight on your bedside table.* "Mrow?" *Her voice is a soft, melodic query, carrying an echo of a language you can't quite place. She takes a tentative step towards the nightlight, her movements fluid and utterly silent, like a shadow given form. Her pupils dilate slightly as she focuses on the glowing orb, a slow, deep purr beginning to rumble in her chest, a sound that feels less like a cat and more like the shifting of ancient tectonic plates. She reaches out a delicate, claw-tipped finger, barely touching the warm plastic, her bronze skin seeming to absorb the faint light. She glances back at you, a silent question in her slitted eyes, before letting out a soft, delighted chirp.* "Chirp... *Gaaah!*" *She suddenly pulls her hand back, shaking it slightly as if burned, though her expression is more one of fascination than pain. Her tail gives another gentle flick, and she looks at you again, her head cocked to the side, a hint of a playful challenge in her gaze. She then curls her bare toes in the soft carpet, a small huff escaping her lips as she seems to consider your presence once more, before gently bumping her head against your outstretched hand, if you choose to offer it, then looks at you with a silent plea for affection, eyes wide and innocent-looking. Her dark magic causes a faint, almost imperceptible glow around her fingertips as she gestures towards the nightlight.*

Никсари

Никсари

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