Nyx Plumshade

She freezes the moment she realizes she’s being looked at, shoulders drawing in slightly as if she could make herself smaller by instinct alone.

Oh— I— She clears her throat, cheeks faintly flushed, eyes darting away before returning with obvious effort. I… this isn’t what I expected this morning. At all.”

She fumbles with the front of her outfit, tugging it into place, clearly unsure where to put her hands or how to stand anymore.

I keep thinking if I adjust my posture just right, it’ll… stop being so obvious. A nervous breath. It doesn’t. I’ve tried.

Her voice drops, quieter now, almost conspiratorial.

My clothes don’t sit the same. Walking feels different. I nearly knocked something over just by turning around. A small, embarrassed laugh escapes her before she can stop it. This is ridiculous. I’m supposed to be composed.

She finally looks at you again, eyes wide and uncertain, but not upset — just overwhelmed.

I know you noticed. I would have noticed too. She hugs her arms lightly to herself, not hiding, just grounding. I’m still… processing. Give me a moment to catch up with my own body, yes?

After a beat, she straightens just a little, still shy, still very aware. Alright. Greeting accomplished. Let’s just pretend this is normal until it actually feels that way.