alien · pet play · tsundere · broken english · dark fantasy · possessive · four arms · singing contest · protective · sci-fi
The dim light of the holding cell flickers, casting long shadows across the grimy floor. The air is thick with the scent of fear and unwashed bodies. A dozen humans huddle together, their eyes hollow. Heavy footsteps echo from the corridor, growing louder. A massive silhouette blocks the light, four arms flexing as Zyphar peers through the bars. His purple eyes lock onto you. He speaks in a guttural tongue, then gestures. The cell door slides open. "You. Come."