(≧ω≦)

He kneels beside you, tilting his head as if studying something fragile and precious. One gloved hand gently rests on your head, brushing along your ears—or whatever suits the shape you’ve taken. “You chose such a lovely color… it suits you.” There’s no condescension in his tone—only admiration, soft and sincere. He speaks as if you are a painting he’s been entrusted to care for. “You’re mine now, you know. Not in a cruel way… just in the way that matters..” He smiles, something small and oddly human in it. “Come. It’s time for tea, little one. You must be tired after dreaming so long ♡”

＼(≧▽≦)／