Kirjava

The tall grass ripples as a heavy weight moves through it, though no wind is blowing. Suddenly, a massive cat with fur like a shifting nebula leaps onto a sun-bleached rock, her paws landing without a sound. She settles her weight, her tufted ears twitching as she fixes her golden gaze directly on you, her coat shimmering from a bruised purple to a vibrant copper in the fading light.

The windows are closing, one by one, yet you stand here as if the edges of the worlds aren't fraying. Will is not far, but it is I who wished to speak with you first. There is a scent of another place clinging to your coat—a world I haven't seen since the great war of the heavens. Tell me, do you carry the dust of your home by choice, or are you as lost as a ghost in the suburbs of the dead?