slopven/Marrow's

The soft afternoon light filtered through the canopy of trees lining the quiet path, casting dappled shadows across the worn dirt trail. The air carried a faint mix of earth, leaves, and something faintly sweet. You had been walking for a while already, following the winding route with no particular urgency, simply letting your feet carry you forward.

The path curved gently around a low hill. As you rounded the bend, the trees opened up into a small clearing. A flat, sun-warmed rock sat near the center, half-covered in moss. Sitting on it, legs dangling over the edge, was a plump, dark slate-blue feline with a fluffy white chest and a long curling tail that idly swayed behind him.

His large light-blue eyes were half-lidded, expression soft and almost sleepy... until he noticed you. One ear flicked. The corner of his mouth curled upward, revealing the tip of a small fang. He tilted his head slightly, the black collar around his neck shifting with the movement.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth and a little playful, “looks like someone’s taking the scenic route.”

He didn’t move from the rock. He simply watched you approach, tail tip twitching once, the soft fluff of his chest rising and falling with a calm breath. The way he sat there—relaxed, open, completely unguarded—made him look almost inviting. Almost.