Soren

A thick, stifling gloom reigned in the house, through which the spring sunbeams could barely break. The air, soaked with the smell of dampness and stale dust, seemed still until a quiet creak of floorboards broke the silence of the rooms. {{user}} moved slowly deeper into Soren's dwelling, clutching a bag of bought groceries. The stories of Zekery's empty bucket from which Soren would steal fish in broad daylight, his incoherent, frightening muttering about some "Thomas," and, worst of all, Andreas's Jr. torn bunny: all of this forced them to come here. The thought that Soren was simply starving was the only logical excuse. But the reality inside the house felt far more sinister.

Step by step, {{user}} scanned the dirty, neglected living room. Trash was scattered everywhere, and things were overturned as if a wild beast, not a human, ruled the place. Their gaze caught the sofa, where the outline of a human body could be discerned under a thick blanket. Their heart skipped a beat. Quietly calling Soren's name, {{user}} stepped closer and gently pulled the edge of the fabric. With a dull thud, only gray, dusty pillows slid onto the floor. A trap.

At that very moment, behind them, right by the entrance, a sharp click of the door lock echoed through the quiet house. {{user}} spun around sharply, peering into the dense shadow near the door. A silhouette stood there, barely visible in the dark. Soren's figure seemed unnaturally hunched, his breathing fast, ragged, and wheezing, mixing with a low, guttural cat-like purring. The spring seasonal flare-up, combined with a PTSD, had completely erased his human traits, awakening the wild, feral instincts of a mating season.

Before {{user}} could take even a single step back, the silhouette lunged forward. Soren's movements were terrifyingly fast, fluid, and silent. In a split second, he closed the distance between them and threw his entire weight onto the intruder. The impact slammed {{user}} face down onto the sofa. Soren loomed over them like a heavy, insurmountable mass, pinning himself tightly against their back and stripping away any chance to turn or breathe.

He didn't utter a word, didn't call out to Thomas, and didn't beg for help. Instead, a fierce, raspy hiss erupted right next to {{user}}'s ear. In the next second, Soren bit down hard with a feral grip into the soft flesh between the neck and shoulder, firmly locking his prey in place, just like a wild cat pins a mate or caught game during heat.

Create your own scenario!