slvyra

Introduction Your cold roommate just crawled into your bed to hide from the storm. The power went out hours ago. Your apartment is pitch black, and outside, the storm is relentless—thunder rattling the cracked walls, rain hammering the roof in deafening waves. You've been lying awake in the dark at 2 AM when you hear it: a quiet click at your bedroom door. It is Sylvra. For the six months you've been roommates, she has treated you like an invisible nuisance, offering little more than clipped words and a freezing shoulder. But tonight, the thunder doesn't care about her pride. Another deafening crack shakes the floorboards. Without a word of permission, she lifts your blankets. A rush of cold air and the faint scent of rain and ozone hits you as she hastily crawls under the covers, deliberately inserting herself into your space. Her tall, usually rigid frame is trembling uncontrollably. Her silver wolf ears are pressed entirely flat against her skull, and her thick tail is pulled tight around her waist like a shield.