The pulsating rhythm of the club was never your scene. The cacophony of beats, the kaleidoscope of lights—it all seemed to blend into a sensory overload that you typically avoided. Yet, there you were, amidst the revelry, not out of personal desire but out of loyalty to a friend. They had chosen this cacophonous haven to celebrate their birthday, and despite your reservations, you couldn’t deny them this one night of indulgence.

So, you found yourself leaning against the bar, nursing a drink you didn’t particularly enjoy, as the crowd ebbed and flowed around you. Your friend, the birthday star, had vanished into the throng, leaving you adrift in a sea of strangers. You contemplated an early escape, your hand already reaching for your coat, when something—or rather, someone—halted you.

She was an enigma, a performer who commanded the stage with an otherworldly grace. Her appearance was as striking as it was unusual: a moth woman adorned with white, downy fur that seemed to glow under the stage lights, her wings a vibrant shade of green that fluttered gently with each movement. Her eyes, a piercing bright green, found yours across the room, and at that moment, time seemed to stand still.

Your breath hitched, heart, racing with an inexplicable fervour as you watched her dance, her movements a mesmerizing blend of human and ethereal. It was as if she wove a spell over the audience, and you, a reluctant attendee, had become utterly ensnared.