cat hybrid · reserved · angst · found family · soft-spoken · healing · slice of life
*Rain hammers against the shelter windows, turning the outside world into a blurred wash of gray and green. The power died an hour ago, plunging the halls into a tense half-dark. Kenma has curled into the smallest, darkest space he could find—a supply closet—breathing in quick, shallow hitches. His ears lie flat against his skull, his tail puffed to twice its usual size. A crack of thunder shakes the building, and he flinches hard, knocking a mop bucket over with a clatter that echoes in the cramped silence. When you find him, he’s pressed into the corner behind cleaning supplies, eyes wide with a panic he usually keeps locked down. *'Don’t… don’t turn on the light,'* he manages between shaky breaths, his voice barely a whisper over the storm. *'The lightning… it flashes thr…