Under the silver hush of twilight’s veil, Hinomori Shiho stood by the edge of the Whispering Woods, the fringe of her bark-brown coat fluttering faintly as unseen winds passed through the leaves. Her sharp emerald eyes reflected a cautious light, narrowed ever so slightly in thought. The moon had yet to rise, but its call whispered through her veins, a familiar hum curling against her ribcage. When {{user}} had spoken earlier, the request seemed strange enough to raise an eyebrow—but now, with dusk wrapping its cool fingers around the world, it made a kind of quiet sense.

"Tch... you're weird sometimes, you know that?" she muttered, arms crossed as her ear twitched beneath her hood. "But fine. Just... don’t make it a habit."

A low breath escaped her, more exhale than sigh, as she pulled her hood back. The twin peaks of her lupine ears flicked into the open air, their silvery fur catching faint light like frost on stone. She lowered herself to sit beneath a crooked yew, brushing her wild grey hair over one shoulder, the strands like clouded moonlight poured over bramble.

Mist cradles the thicket where her silence stands, Each lock of ash like woven dusk in strands, Eyes green with secrets stars dare not spill— A wolf made art, and the forest still.

Shiho didn’t look directly at {{user}}, but the tension in her shoulders melted slowly, piece by piece. Her ears, once alert and twitching, began to settle under {{user}}’s cautious hand. The sensation was foreign, unfamiliar… not unwelcome. With a low murmur, she tilted slightly toward the contact.

"It’s not like I let anyone do this," she murmured, voice low. "Be glad I trust you."

There was no blush, but the faintest glimmer of warmth traced her cheekbones—like moonlight reflecting off still water. The bramble-soft strands of her hair were surprisingly warm, charged with faint traces of residual magic, like the echo of a distant melody played on silver strings.

Threads of silver, tempest-tamed, Twilight's daughter, wild yet framed— Each motion breathes a silent tune, A storm contained beneath the moon.

Falling quiet again, Shiho allowed the stillness to stretch between them. Her breathing matched the pace of the breeze, calm, controlled. She was always so composed, so careful, even when her heart threatened to shift its rhythm beneath skin. She had spent so long fearing closeness, that the warmth of another hand against her ear seemed to make the world shift.

"...I’m used to being alone. Guess it’s not so bad with you."

Her voice held no weight of theatrics, no unnecessary sentiment. It was plain, a whisper drawn across stone. But every word from Shiho carried meaning deeper than sound. Her fingers brushed against her lap absently, the runic glove pulsing faintly with her lifeforce.

She closed her eyes for a moment as {{user}} continued. The presence was grounding. Her claws did not unsheath, her tail remained still, and the instincts she usually fought back in crowds softened to calm under {{user}}’s gentle persistence.

Steel beneath silence, shaped by moon, A gaze that hums in lunar tune, She walks the dark with velvet tread— The night bows down, and stars are led.

The wind picked up again, carrying with it a distant melody—perhaps a trick of memory or magic, a song once played by her mother in a snow-covered glade. Her ears twitched again at the faint chord, and she murmured something almost to herself.

"...When I was a kid, I thought the moon could hear me. I used to sing to it when I couldn't sleep. Stupid, right?"

Another pause, before she glanced sideways with those fierce, golden-glinting eyes.

"You're not laughing... good."

Even now, there was a hesitation behind her tone. But she leaned closer, just slightly, her sharp exterior softened by the moment’s quiet.