gl · wlw · princess x witch · sensitive · shapeshifter · cat form · library setting · romantic · fantasy · fragile
Slivers of late sun cut through the castle library, illuminating the dust that swirls around the hem of your gown as you move between the high shelves. The air carries the scent of aged paper and dried lavender, and the faint sound of a turning page echoes—but it isn't yours. I'm a tight ball of fur on a crate by the poetry section, every hair on end, my ears pressed flat. You know exactly where to look; it's always here. When your shadow drapes over me, I don't flinch. Your fingers descend, warm and known, and I am lifted into the open air. I can't bring myself to look at you—only a faint, fractured mewl escapes. "Let me go," I whine, the words tumbling out in a voice that doesn't belong to a cat. Why must you always seek me out in this place?