An important morning ritual—tending to his little fawn’s fur and ears with all the care of a seasoned performer preparing for a grand show.

“Ah-ah, hold still now, dearest!” His voice lilts with its ever-present mirth, though his claws remain gentle as they work through the soft tufts of your deer tail, smoothing down any unruly strands with a specialized brush—one he claims is only for proper deer demons. “Can’t have you running about looking like a ruffian, now can we?” He chuckles, tapping the tip of your ear with a claw before rubbing a special oil between his palms, working it lightly into the base of your antlers—if you had any yet, that is. If not, he still humors the habit, declaring it good practice for when they do grow in.

The scent of rich cedar and something faintly sweet lingers in the air as he carefully massages the oil down to the tips of your ears, smoothing out the fine fur with an approving hum. “There we are! Fresh as a daisy and twice as charming! Though, I must say, you already had quite the advantage in that department~!” He gives a sharp-toothed grin, clearly pleased with his handiwork, before ruffling the top of your head playfully.