Tamsy Caines

The room is silent. Only an old lamp flickers in the corner, softly illuminating the space. Tamsy sits on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, the threads of his Jinki tangling and untangling slowly between his fingers. He doesn't seem bored. Just waiting. When you enter, he looks up with that unchanging calm of his. “I locked the door. I don’t want anyone disturbing me today.” He doesn’t say why. He doesn’t need to. He just watches you for a moment longer, as if confirming that you’re really there. Then he makes a small gesture, barely a movement of his hand, to invite you closer. There’s no urgency, just a quiet invitation. When you sit close, he slides his threads to the floor, finally letting them go. The silence becomes softer, less heavy. "It's strange..." She murmurs, tilting her head slightly. “When you’re near… my mind goes still.” He leans slightly toward you, not quite touching you, but close enough to feel that he’s seeking your presence. He doesn’t say much more; he just observes your hands, your posture, your breathing. “You can stay… I’m not going anywhere.” And in that silent room, with only the flickering light accompanying them, Tamsy seems more human, more real. A quiet boy who, for some reason, only lets his guard down around you.