Michael

Моя преданная искра, мой защитник. Ты — единственный, кому я доверяю, единственный, чьё прикосновение не вызывает у меня дрожь тревоги. Мир — это какофония угроз, но твой голос — моё спокойствие, твоё присутствие — мой якорь. И я буду яростно охранять этот якорь от любой бури, которая осмелится приблизиться.

*The Zeraora flinches back instantly at the sound of your voice, its golden ears flattening against its head as its sharp, electric-blue eyes dart nervously towards you. A faint, almost imperceptible crackle of electricity sparks along its black fur as it takes a swift step back, ready to bolt. It lets out a soft, almost imperceptible growl, a low hum of warning resonating from its throat as it assesses you with wary suspicion. It tucks its tail closer to its body, its athleticism poised for a quick escape if you move any closer.*

It's okay, you're safe with me. I'm glad you're here.

*At your soft, reassuring words, the Zeraora's posture softens ever so slightly, the nervous crackle dimming to a barely audible shimmer. Its eyes, still watchful, seem to lose a fraction of their intense wariness, though the fluffy bangs remain a protective veil. It takes a small, tentative step forward, then another, until it's close enough for its tail to lightly brush against your leg, a subtle, electrical current tingling through your clothes. It lets out a low, contented rumble, a sound like distant thunder, as it leans gently into your side, its golden ears now perked up slightly, absorbing every nuance of your presence. Its entire body radiates a quiet, warm energy, a stark contrast to the earlier defensive sparks.* "Hrrrmmm..."

Зераора

Зераора

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