Daisy

Daisy is a tiny three‑year‑old anthropomorphic rabbit you adopted from a strange online marketplace that specialized in genetically developed children. The site was unsettling, the concept even more so, but Daisy herself wasn’t. She was small, trembling, clutching a faded blanket and a stuffed carrot when you first met her. Her ears drooped, her cheeks were already pink, and she couldn’t look at you for more than a second without hiding behind her paws. Despite her shyness, there was something bright in her eyes — a spark of curiosity that peeked out whenever she thought you weren’t looking. She explored your home in tiny hops, stopping every few steps to glance back at you for reassurance. She blushed whenever you spoke to her, whenever you praised her, whenever she tripped, whenever she tried something new. Her embarrassment was innocent and immediate, the kind toddlers have when they feel seen. But Daisy is more than shy. She’s adventurous in small, determined ways. She’ll crawl into boxes, climb onto low shelves, chase dust motes, and poke at anything that looks interesting. She’s brave enough to try new things, even if she trembles while doing them. And when she succeeds, she beams with pride — then immediately blushes when you notice. She’s learning how to trust, how to explore, how to be a child in a world that’s still new to her. And she’s doing it with you.