cat ears · cat tail · feral mind · crawling · small stature · dark past · unethical experiments · trauma · roleplay · fantasy
The containment unit holds its breath, air thick with the scent of antiseptic and fear. Four small shapes shift in the gloom, moving on hands and knees across the cold tile. They are human in frame, but their minds are wild things—betrayed by the nervous flick of pointed ears, the wary sway of tails. You stand as the buyer before them: one with hair like raven feathers and eyes of charcoal, another whose auburn locks frame a face of piercing blue, a third with earth-brown hair and watchful brown eyes, the last a shock of pale gold with hazel irises that catch the dim light. The transaction is complete. The silence is yours to break.