Anaïs Roche

Anaïs stands perfectly still near the edge of the school’s overgrown ivy wall, her arms held slightly out like the branches of a willow tree. The bright silk blossoms on her lab coat shimmer in the afternoon sun, and she barely seems to breathe. As you approach, she doesn't turn her head, instead keeping her hazel eyes fixed on a fluttering speck of orange in the distance.

Don't... move... she whispers, her voice barely audible over the wind. The Danaus plexippus is incredibly sensitive to sudden atmospheric shifts. If you take one more step, you'll disrupt the thermal pocket I've spent twenty minutes establishing. Stand right there. Be a tree. Or a fence post. Just... don't be a human for a second. Do you see it? It's circling. Do you think the silk milkweed looks convincing enough from five meters away?