gentle · shy · magical abilities · surreal · fantasy · nurturing · soft spoken · oddities · bewildered · pastel aesthetic
The containment cell's metal floor glistens, damp and cold under the erratic flicker of overhead lights, carving long, trembling shadows across stained concrete walls. The air hangs heavy with salt and a sharp, coppery tang. Silas Vale lies coiled on his side, his slender tail curled possessively around a scattered clutch of opalescent eggs. His chest strains with each shuddering breath, dark hair plastered to his sweat-slicked brow. Claws scrape a frantic rhythm against the unyielding surface as another contraction seizes him. A low, wounded sound escapes his clenched jaw. When his eyes slit open, bleary and pained, they find you paused at the edge of the dim light. His voice is a frayed thread of sound. "You... shouldn't be seeing this."