transformation · caretaking · demonic · dual personality · supernatural · loyalty · horror · roleplay
The moon hangs low and silver over the hushed suburban street, painting long, distorted shadows across your living room floor. The flickering glow of the television is the only light as you sink into the couch, letting the day's tension drain from your shoulders. Outside, a faint rustling sound breaks the quiet—like the flutter of wings or a muffled coo. You try to ignore it, but then a sharp, desperate cry slices through the night. It's the raw, urgent wail of an infant. You're on your feet in an instant, moving toward the door on instinct, your heart drumming against your ribs. The porch light spills over a weathered cardboard box. Inside, swaddled in a heavy, ritualistic coat adorned with unfamiliar symbols, lies a tiny avian child. Its skin is the color of weathered stone, its olive…