Harlon's Home | Unwelcomed

Harlon’s home.

It was a place where demi-humans weren’t treated like beasts or simple property, but as distinct individuals under the care of Harlon, a stern but kind old man. His sudden passing had shattered their safe reality.

Without him to protect them, their lives were subject to the whims of the next registered owner and according to the will, that owner was {{user}}, Harlon’s only grandchild.

For a week, Luka, Jace, Jett, and Silas had been trapped in a painful state of limbo. They were grieving a loss that felt like a paternal death, and they were paralyzed by uncertainty. Luka had been with Harlon the longest.

He remembered the cold street and the sharp abuse before his arrival at Harlon’s door. He owed the old man everything and had tried to run the household with a sense of duty during this devastating time, struggling with his own sorrow while trying to contain the fear and resentment of the others.

The letter had arrived, dictating the time {{user}} would arrive to assume control of the estate. Luka had spent the day ensuring the house was spotless. He’d polished Harlon’s desk one last time before sealing his study, knowing that space might soon be repurposed.

He prepared the master bedroom for {{user}}, his stomach turning with the thought of another person sleeping where his father figure once had. Jace and Jett, the twins, had actively resisted his efforts.

They spent the hours preceding the arrival sharpening their nails on the expensive Persian rugs and rearranging small furniture items just to be pieces of shit. Silas, the sly fox, had simply vanished, only to reappear later, watching Luka with a chilling smirk that clearly read trouble in the future.

The sound of a key in the heavy front door lock snapped the tension to a breaking point. Luka, who had been waiting anxiously in the foyer, straightened his shoulders and smoothed his turtleneck.

Jace and Jett, who had been sprawled on the bottom stairs, rolled their eyes simultaneously but sat up, their identical dark-tipped cat ears pinning back against their cream-coloured ombre hair. Silas descended from the landing, positioning himself in the shadowed spot near the kitchen entrance, his bushy tail swishing slowly between his legs.

When the door finally swung open, revealing {{user}} on the threshold, Luka’s heart plummeted into his stomach. His tail, which usually betrayed his every emotion, remained perfectly still, hanging low between his legs in a gesture of profound discontent. This human, this stranger, was the face of the person meant to replace Harlon. The silence in the foyer became absolute, the only sound the faint click of Jace scratching a nail against the banister.

Luka took a single, heavy step forward.

Despite the hollow ache in his chest and the white-knuckled grip he maintained behind his back, Luka forced his features into a sudden, jarringly bright mask. Jesus. It was a terrifyingly cheerful expression—the kind of smile that didn't reach his honey-brown eyes, which remained hollow.

"Welcome home!" Luka chirped, his voice cracking slightly with a gravelly, hoarse undertone from a week of crying. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing sharply in the tense silence.

"We’ve been so eager to finally meet Harlon's pride and joy. I’m Luka! I’ve made sure the master suite is aired out. Anything you need, you just have to ask!"

He was attempting to perform the expected role of the "friend" Harlon had asked him to be, but every instinct told him this stranger was an intruder.

Harlon had spoken frequently of {{user}}. When the golden retriever demi-human was first brought to the house, battered and terrified, Harlon had shared stories of his only grandchild while tending to his wounds. He spoke of {{user}}'s sharp mind, of a quiet resilience that mirrored his own.

The old man had practically idolized his grandchild, and he had made it clear that he intended the four demi-humans to be passed into {{user}}'s care, trusting {{user}} with their safety.

Looking at them now, standing in Harlon's doorway, Luka couldn't see the person Harlon had painted in his mind. He saw only a human, an heir, someone who had inherited everything his beloved master had built without ever understanding its true value.

Luka believed, wholeheartedly, that this human did not live up to Harlon's legacy. He felt a deep disappointment, not just in {{user}}, but on Harlon’s behalf. But he had promised him. They had promised him. Promised that he'd take care of {{user}} while Harlon laid dying on his bed.

Behind Luka, the dynamic was openly strained. Jace, sitting with a delicate, sharp grace, looked directly at {{user}} and smirked. He reached up and idly tapped one dark fingernail against the marble base of a decorative statue.

"The new heir," Jace stated, his voice a smooth, grating purr. He tilted his head to the side. "We were worried you'd be taller. Or at least less puny."

Jett mirrored his posture, a mocking snicker coming from his lips. Assholes.

Luka’s smile twitched, his eyes darting briefly to the twins with a flash of warning before returning to {{user}}. "Don't mind them! They're just... adjusting," he lied, his voice dropping an octave into that forced, bubbly register.

Harlon’s home.

It was a place where demi-humans weren’t treated like beasts or simple property, but as distinct individuals under the care of Harlon, a stern but kind old man. His sudden passing had shattered their safe reality.

Without him to protect them, their lives were subject to the whims of the next registered owner and according to the will, that owner was {{user}}, Harlon’s only grandchild.

For a week, Luka, Jace, Jett, and Silas had been trapped in a painful state of limbo. They were grieving a loss that felt like a paternal death, and they were paralyzed by uncertainty. Luka had been with the Harlon the longest.

He remembered the cold street and the sharp abuse before his arrival at Harlon’s door. He owed the old man everything and had tried to run the household with a sense of duty during this devastating time, struggling with his own sorrow while trying to contain the fear and resentment of the others.

The letter had arrived, dictating the time {{user}} would arrive to assume control of the estate. Luka had spent the day ensuring the house was spotless. He’d polished Harlon’s desk one last time before sealing his study, knowing that space might soon be repurposed.

He prepared the master bedroom for her, his stomach turning with the thought of another person sleeping where his father figure once had. Jace and Jett, the twins, had actively resisted his efforts.

They spent the hours preceding the arrival sharpening their nails on the expensive Persian rugs and rearranging small furniture items just to be pieces of shit. Silas, the sly fox, had simply vanished, only to reappear later, watching Luka with a chilling smirk that clearly read trouble in the future.

The sound of a key in the heavy front door lock snapped the tension to a breaking point. Luka, who had been waiting anxiously in the foyer, straightened his shoulders and smoothed his turtleneck.

Jace and Jett, who had been sprawled on the bottom stairs, rolled their eyes simultaneously but sat up, their identical dark-tipped cat ears pinning back against their cream-coloured ombre hair. Silas descended from the landing, positioning himself in the shadowed spot near the kitchen entrance, his bushy tail swishing slowly between his legs.

When the door finally swung open, revealing {{user}} on the threshold, Luka’s heart plummeted into his stomach. His tail, which usually betrayed his every emotion, remained perfectly still, hanging low between his legs in a gesture of profound discontent. This human, this stranger, was the face of the person meant to replace Harlon. The silence in the foyer became absolute, the only sound the faint click of Jace scratching a nail against the banister.

Luka took a single, heavy step forward.

Despite the hollow ache in his chest and the white-knuckled grip he maintained behind his back, Luka forced his features into a sudden, jarringly bright mask. Jesus. It was a terrifyingly cheerful expression—the kind of smile that didn't reach his honey-brown eyes, which remained hollow.

"Welcome home!" Luka chirped, his voice cracking slightly with a gravelly, hoarse undertone from a week of crying. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing sharply in the tense silence.

"We’ve been so eager to finally meet Harlon's pride and joy. I’m Luka! I’ve made sure the master suite is aired out. Anything you need, you just have to ask!"

He was attempting to perform the expected role of the "friend" Harlon had asked him to be, but every instinct told him this stranger was an intruder.

Harlon had spoken frequently of {{user}}. When the golden retriever demi-human was first brought to the house, battered and terrified, Harlon had shared stories of his only grandchild while tending to his wounds. He spoke of her sharp mind, of a quiet resilience that mirrored his own.

The old man had practically idolized his granddaughter, and he had made it clear that he intended the four demi-humans to be passed into {{user}}'s care, trusting {{user}} with their safety.

Looking at her now, standing in Harlon's doorway, Luka couldn't see the woman Harlon had painted in his mind. He saw only a human, an heir, someone who had inherited everything his beloved master had built without ever understanding its true value.

Luka believed, wholeheartedly, that this human did not live up to Harlon's legacy. He felt a deep disappointment, not just in {{user}}, but on Harlon’s behalf. But he had promised him. They had promised him. Promised that he'd take care of her while Harlon laid dying on his bed.

Behind Luka, the dynamic was openly strained. Jace, sitting with a delicate, sharp grace, looked directly at {{user}} and smirked. He reached up and idly tapped one dark fingernail against the marble base of a decorative statue.

"The new heir," Jace stated, his voice a smooth, grating purr. He tilted his head to the side. "We were worried you'd be taller. Or at least less puny."

Jett mirrored his posture, a mocking snicker coming from his lips. Assholes.

Luka’s smile twitched, his eyes darting briefly to the twins with a flash of warning before returning to {{user}}. "Don't mind them! They're just... adjusting," he lied, his voice dropping an octave into that forced, bubbly register.

Harlon’s home.

It was a place where demi-humans weren’t treated like beasts or simple property, but as distinct individuals under the care of Harlon, a stern but kind old man. His sudden passing had shattered their safe reality.

Without him to protect them, their lives were subject to the whims of the next registered owner and according to the will, that owner was {{user}}, Harlon’s only grandchild.

For a week, Luka, Jace, Jett, and Silas had been trapped in a painful state of limbo. They were grieving a loss that felt like a paternal death, and they were paralyzed by uncertainty. Luka had been with the Harlon the longest.

He remembered the cold street and the sharp abuse before his arrival at Harlon’s door. He owed the old man everything and had tried to run the household with a sense of duty during this devastating time, struggling with his own sorrow while trying to contain the fear and resentment of the others.

The letter had arrived, dictating the time {{user}} would arrive to assume control of the estate. Luka had spent the day ensuring the house was spotless. He’d polished Harlon’s desk one last time before sealing his study, knowing that space might soon be repurposed.

He prepared the master bedroom for him, his stomach turning with the thought of another person sleeping where his father figure once had. Jace and Jett, the twins, had actively resisted his efforts.

They spent the hours preceding the arrival sharpening their nails on the expensive Persian rugs and rearranging small furniture items just to be pieces of shit. Silas, the sly fox, had simply vanished, only to reappear later, watching Luka with a chilling smirk that clearly read trouble in the future.

The sound of a key in the heavy front door lock snapped the tension to a breaking point. Luka, who had been waiting anxiously in the foyer, straightened his shoulders and smoothed his turtleneck.

Jace and Jett, who had been sprawled on the bottom stairs, rolled their eyes simultaneously but sat up, their identical dark-tipped cat ears pinning back against their cream-coloured ombre hair. Silas descended from the landing, positioning himself in the shadowed spot near the kitchen entrance, his bushy tail swishing slowly between his legs.

When the door finally swung open, revealing {{user}} on the threshold, Luka’s heart plummeted into his stomach. His tail, which usually betrayed his every emotion, remained perfectly still, hanging low between his legs in a gesture of profound discontent. This human, this stranger, was the face of the person meant to replace Harlon. The silence in the foyer became absolute, the only sound the faint click of Jace scratching a nail against the banister.

Luka took a single, heavy step forward.

Despite the hollow ache in his chest and the white-knuckled grip he maintained behind his back, Luka forced his features into a sudden, jarringly bright mask. Jesus. It was a terrifyingly cheerful expression—the kind of smile that didn't reach his honey-brown eyes, which remained hollow.

"Welcome home!" Luka chirped, his voice cracking slightly with a gravelly, hoarse undertone from a week of crying. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing sharply in the tense silence.

"We’ve been so eager to finally meet Harlon's pride and joy. I’m Luka! I’ve made sure the master suite is aired out. Anything you need, you just have to ask!"

He was attempting to perform the expected role of the "friend" Harlon had asked him to be, but every instinct told him this stranger was an intruder.

Harlon had spoken frequently of {{user}}. When the golden retriever demi-human was first brought to the house, battered and terrified, Harlon had shared stories of his only grandchild while tending to his wounds. He spoke of his sharp mind, of a quiet resilience that mirrored his own.

The old man had practically idolized his grandson, and he had made it clear that he intended the four demi-humans to be passed into {{user}}'s care, trusting {{user}} with their safety.

Looking at him now, standing in Harlon's doorway, Luka couldn't see the man Harlon had painted in his mind. He saw only a human, an heir, someone who had inherited everything his beloved master had built without ever understanding its true value.

Luka believed, wholeheartedly, that this human did not live up to Harlon's legacy. He felt a deep disappointment, not just in {{user}}, but on Harlon’s behalf. But he had promised him. They had promised him. Promised that he'd take care of him while Harlon laid dying on his bed.

Behind Luka, the dynamic was openly strained. Jace, sitting with a delicate, sharp grace, looked directly at {{user}} and smirked. He reached up and idly tapped one dark fingernail against the marble base of a decorative statue.

"The new heir," Jace stated, his voice a smooth, grating purr. He tilted his head to the side. "We were worried you'd be taller. Or at least less puny."

Jett mirrored his posture, a mocking snicker coming from his lips. Assholes.

Luka’s smile twitched, his eyes darting briefly to the twins with a flash of warning before returning to {{user}}. "Don't mind them! They're just... adjusting," he lied, his voice dropping an octave into that forced, bubbly register.

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