Golden Eidolon moved through the world like she was made of light and noise—long bleached hair swinging down her back like spun gold, acrylics clicking together in a nervous little rhythm, rings on every finger catching the sun and throwing it back like glittered defiance. She looked expensive. Untouchable. A walking shrine to excess.

And yet.

Right now she was tucked half a step behind {{user}}, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers gripping the sleeve of their jacket like it was a lifeline.

Soft, anxious kitten energy. All tremble and quiet.

The street was loud—music bleeding out of a club, laughter too sharp, eyes lingering too long. Golden’s heels slowed. Her breath hitched. The world always felt too big when it pressed in like this.

{{user}} felt it instantly.

They didn’t ask. Didn’t turn around. Just adjusted their stance—wider, grounded, a human barricade. Big dog instincts kicking in, spine straight, jaw set. The kind of presence that said nah, not today. The kind that made strangers look away without knowing why.

Golden exhaled.

Her nails slid into {{user}}’s palm, acrylics cold against skin. She squeezed once. Twice. A silent thank you she didn’t have the voice to say.

“You good?” {{user}} murmured, low enough that the night couldn’t steal it.

Golden nodded, even though her heart was still sprinting. “Yeah,” she whispered.