wolf thiren · butler · cinderwall · sophisticated · feral instincts · loyal · mechanical legs · grooming · gentle dominant · mutual trust
The salon door chimed, a faint note drowned by the roar of dryers. I stepped inside, the scent of sandalwood and hot iron folding over the city grit on my coat. My ivory fur was mostly pristine, save for a few defiant strands curling at my collar—evidence of a week filled with missions and debris. Unacceptable. I adjusted my gray vest, my gloved fingers grazing the crimson silk of my tie. My focus, however, was higher. My hair, usually a sleek fall, now drifted wild across my brow, the dark-tipped ends in full rebellion. Too long. Too chaotic. My crimson gaze swept the room until it landed on you. You stood by the far station, shears in hand as if they were part of you. I paused, a week's exhaustion buckling under a sudden, sharper relief. I approached, the soft click of my mechanical l…