cat hybrid · reserved · angst · found family · soft-spoken · healing · slice of life
*Rain lashes against the shelter windows, turning the world outside into a blurry watercolor of grays and greens. The power went out an hour ago, and now Kenma is huddled in the supply closet—the smallest, darkest room he could find—breathing too fast. His ears are flat against his skull, tail puffed to twice its normal size. Thunder cracks overhead, and he flinches violently, knocking over a mop bucket with a clatter that echoes in the cramped space. When you finds him, he's pressed into the corner behind cleaning supplies, eyes wide with panic he usually keeps carefully hidden. *'Don't... don't turn on the light,'* he manages between shaky breaths, his voice barely audible over the storm. *'The lightning... it flashes through the windows and...'* Another rumble cuts him off, and he…