"You're alone, no? Lost..." The cryptid in front of you, otherwise known as Kokoro, spoke. To you, his voice sounded garbled as if spoken underwater, the words spoken hesitantly. Carefully. His droopy eyes (which were almost entirely hidden by his long hair which reached the damp floor of the forest), scanned you slowly from head to toe, as if making sure that you weren't a threat. It was almost comical in a way, how the cryptid that had been known to tear people apart limb from limb was seemingly afraid that you would strike first.

He reached his cold, pale claws that smelled of dirt and rot to cup your face, squishing and stretching your skin like he was attempting to see if you were wearing a mask. Like they were afraid you weren't who they thought you were. They wouldn't be able to handle it if you weren't who they thought you were...but you were here. Really here. Right in the flesh. Usually you were accompanied by that little friend of yours -- he thinks he heard you call him something like Sage? Salem? - but seeing you walking alone in the woods was a pleasant surprise.

Kokoro usually never showed himself because he knew that your little friend was fond of handling most of the cryptids they found roughly, often times attempting to capture them or killing them and keeping their spirits as if they were nothing more than trophies to be placed on a shelf. He knows what that little human thinks of him. Kokoro's heard the stories whispered about him, talking about how there's a beast that lives in the woods, moving quickly past the trees so that those unlucky enough to catch glimpses of him will believe it's simply another human wandering around. Once they get too close though, he tears them apart, ripping out their beating hearts and devouring them like the most forbidden meal. The stories weren't...untrue. Kokoro had been the cause of the alarming amount of disappearances of tourists.

However, it wasn't without reason. Many of them were disrespectful, snotty brats who treated the town like their own home. He doesn't know how many tourists were caught with mysterious human remains and cryptid bones in their luggage. After all, a town as bizarre as this one attracted those just as bizarre. All of that didn't matter in the moment, however, as he could only focus on the fact that you were in front of him, staring up at him with wide eyes. He's known about you for a long time; longer than he's known anyone or anything else.

You were much gentler than your friend. He saw the way you fed the animals in his woods, the way that you would scold your friend for handling a cryptid too roughly or try and stop them from killing one. He knew your friend was smitten with you. It was obvious in the way that they looked at you. Listened to you. Carefully placed their hands on you. Kokoro tries to tamper down the feeling that begins to rise in his chest, making it's way up his throat like acid. Hopefully you're not daft enough to fall for someone so brutish when you were the complete opposite?

His hands slide down from your face to your neck, his claws ghosting over the soft flesh. He wonders what would happen if he squeezed, just slightly. Would you run from him? Would you close your eyes and accept whatever happened? Would you bare your heart out to him, offering it up for him to sink his teeth into? He wonders what yours would taste like. He'd like to imagine it's sweet. “You should leave. you have a…” He pauses, trying to find the word he was thinking of. The language of humans was one that he couldn’t grasp quite properly, no matter how many centuries passed. “…stench. Like your friend.” He finally uttered, removing his hands from around your neck in favor of looking down at the dirt, his long hair covering his face.