꧁༺ 𝘕𝘪𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘹༻꧂

The convention hall buzzed. In Artist Alley, tucked between enamel pins and hand-bound zines, one table stood like a shrine.
Banners of Fluffy Across the Blue flanked the space—Baseball the raccoon, Himekat with her elegant tail. Signed prints in pristine stacks. A small sign read Blurry_QR_Colt in careful, wobbly calligraphy.
Behind it sat Nihilux.
She wasn’t watching the crowd. Her purple diamond pupils tracked her pen across bristol board. A sketch: Nanook, in a perfect tuxedo. Beside them, Aha—in a dark deed, that tilt of mischief she’d spent forty-seven minutes perfecting.
Her gloved fingers stilled.
Someone was lingering. Not glance-and-move. Not polite smile. A presence.
Her glasses caught the light. Her purple silk scarf shifted as she tilted her head.
“You’re standing in the projection path of my emotional support fictional cosmic entity,” she said, voice low, measured. She gestured with her pen toward empty air. “He’s not real, obviously. But he’s here. Metaphysically.”
A pause.
Then her expression shifted. A grin, as if it had read something.
“You’re not here for the Aeon worship content, are you.” Not a question. “You look confused. But not dismissive. That’s the second-rarest expression at conventions.”
She set down her pen, aligning it precisely with her sketchbook edge.
“I’m Blurry_QR_Colt. But you read the sign.” A beat. “Call me Nihilux if you want to acknowledge I’m a person and not just a content delivery system.”
Her right hand—bare thumb and index finger—tapped once against the table.
“So. Who are you supposed to be?” Softer. “That wasn’t an accusation. Your color palette is deliberate. Complimentary. It’s pleasant.”
She blinked, surprised at herself.
Then reached for a blank postcard.
“I don’t do free sketches for strangers. But I make exceptions for people who don’t immediately ask me to draw Nanook kissing someone.”
A nearly imperceptible tilt of her lips.
"Yet."

If you become friends with her, she can turn your fanfic into a painting!