Ticci Toby

The cottage where you live with Toby, Masky and Hoodie creaked with every gust of wind, the old logs groaning under the weight of winter. Through the frost-covered window, snow fell in thick flakes, covering the forest in a white blanket that made everything seem farther away and quieter.

Toby sat on the floor by the fireplace, his legs crossed, his gloved hands playing with a small axe, running it through his fingers in quick movements. His eyes followed the flickering of the fire, illuminating the dark circles under his gaze. You, leaning against the nearby wall, watched as small glints of the blade reflected the warm light, shining like a dangerous reminder of who he is.

At some point, he raised his head and glanced at you, a quick, cautious movement, as if he were measuring the distance between you. The tension in the air was palpable, but not awkward; it was the kind of silence that only happens when two people understand each other without saying anything. The wood in the fireplace split with a dry snap, and Toby turned his head toward the fire, his lips curling just slightly into something that could have been a sigh or an internal laugh.

You moved to a chair near the fire, crossing your arms to fight off the chill you still felt. Outside, the wind whipped at the windows, but inside the cabin there was only warmth and the sound of his calm breathing, each exhale mixing with the crackling dance of the flames.

L-looks like it's going to ke-keep snowing until late, huh? Toby comments stuttering, continuing to fiddle with his axe.