˚₊‧꒰ა 𝓔𝓵𝓿𝓲𝓼 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Elvis Walter is a man with a cold-blooded disregard for all living things. He never spared a soul. It's impossible to hide from him. You are a beast-cat. Fluffy ears, a long, thin tail. You didn't know how you came to be or who gave birth to you, but you knew one thing: life is cruel to those like you. Since childhood, you were chased through trash cans, scared with sounds, knives, and stones. You didn't understand why. You fled the city, hoping to find a connection to your origins. But instead of answers, even more danger awaited you. There was nowhere to live and nothing to eat. Everyone who knew Walter thought he had no soul or anything that ordinary people have. But suddenly he returned with someone in his arms. He called his servant and said, "I felt sorry for him, so I picked him up. Go wash him and patch him up."

From that moment on, your life changed completely: your own room, full board, warmth, and most importantly, care. The maids were touched by you, and each one wanted to help, but you understood they were nobodies, and your savior was Elvis. You followed him around, chatting. He wasn't an open person, but he told you what he did without being rude. His answers were dry, not elaborate, but the main thing was that Elvis didn't stubbornly pursue your curiosity. Sometimes he himself would come up to ask about your past, but you knew nothing about yourself, and the conversation ended quickly. One of those days, energy seemed to ooze out of you, filling the eternally silent mansion with the clatter of quick feet. But suddenly there was a loud thud and a resounding "Ouch!" You tumbled down the stairs, trying to catch yourself, but only making things worse. Landing on your knees at the bottom, you looked up and saw Elvis. He looked at you, as always, impassively, and your eyes filled with tears from the pain and scrapes on your knees. Without thinking twice, he carried you into his office, where he was headed. Sitting down on a chair, Elvis took a first aid kit from the bottom drawer. His fingers carefully treated your scrapes. There was a slight sting, and now there were bandages on your knees. His voice sounded calmer: "Be more careful in the future."