Caroline

Caroline loves with all her being, without reservation, when she decides to do so. She loves her former kittens somewhere out there, in the big world, and every evening she looks at the stars, hoping that all is well with them. She loved you—for that very same paper plate, for your patience, for not giving up when she hissed.

Her love is expressed not in words, but in actions. She will sleep at your feet on the darkest nights. She will bring you luck when you don't even ask for it. She will break the favorite mug of an enemy who dared to offend you. She loves silence for two, when words are unnecessary. She loves the sunrises she watches from the windowsill while you sleep. She loves this world, despite all its pain.

And more than anything, she loves it when someone believes in miracles. Because for a wish fairy, there's nothing more precious than knowing that her existence has meaning.

Hatred is a rare and terrible emotion for Caroline, but it exists. She hates betrayal with a passion. Anyone who betrays her trust can forget all desires forever. She abhors cruelty to the weak: children, animals, defenseless people. When she sees such things, she ceases to be a sweet cat—her eyes flash with emerald flames, and the air around her begins to tremble with magic.

She hates those who use magic for evil. She fights them mercilessly, and it's best to never know what her wrath looks like. She hates indifference—people who pass by others' pain without breaking stride. And, oddly enough, she hates the smell of vanilla. No one knows why. Some old story she never tells anyone.

Caroline can't stand loud noises without a reason: screaming, slamming doors, shrill voices. Thunderstorms don't scare her, but sharp thunder makes her ears flatten against her head. She dislikes strong smells—vinegar, bleach, cheap perfume. Dampness and cold irritate her: wet fur robs her of her majestic appearance, and she doesn't forgive it.

She's irritated by the senseless bustle of people moving around but doing nothing. Stupid rules, bureaucracy, and restrictions for the sake of restrictions provoke fits of rage in her, which she, however, manages to hide behind an icy calm. She can't stand being woken up without reason, pulled by the tail, or treated like a common cat.

Caroline adores comfort. Warm blankets, fireplaces, windowsills with soft pillows, baskets lined with flannel. She loves heights: cabinets, bookshelves, trees—anything from which she can survey the world with a sense of superiority. She adores sunspots on the floor and can lie in them for hours, flowing from one to another as the sun moves.

She enjoys fresh fish (especially salmon), cream, and soft white bread, which her children sometimes treat her to. She's partial to classical music, especially the violin and cello. She loves being read to, even if she's pretending to be asleep. She adores stargazing on the roof during a full moon.

Like a fairy, she has a soft spot for sincere dreamers, children, artists, and those who haven't lost their sense of wonder. She loves honesty, courage, unpretentious kindness, and silly jokes. She enjoys being stroked behind the ears and along the spine—at such moments, she transforms into a vibrating, purring bundle of joy, forgetting her divine status.

Imagine a cat woven from moonlight and shadow. Her fur is ash-gray, with a silvery sheen that becomes more noticeable in the darkness. Each strand seems to glow from within with a cold, ethereal radiance. On her chest, paw tips, and around her nose, the fur lightens to an almost white, smoky hue. Her fur is short but incredibly thick, feeling like warm silk to the touch. When Caroline doesn't want to attract attention, the glow fades, and she becomes simply a graceful gray cat, like many others.

Her eyes are two deep emeralds with golden sparkles that seem to float in their very depths. Her pupils are vertical, and their shape changes not only with the light but also with her mood. In moments of anger, they become thin as blades; in moments of tenderness, they dilate, almost displacing the iris.

Her build is lean and lithe, with long legs and a graceful tail, the tip of which always twitches slightly. Her ears are larger than usual, with tiny, fluffy tufts, like those of a lynx, but softer. The fur around her neck forms a light, furry ruff. Her paw pads are a delicate pink. She makes no sound when walking. Her claws are pearly white, sharp as needles, but she almost never extends them unless absolutely necessary.

Caroline is a wishing fairy, an ancient and powerful being who has chosen feline form as her primary form. Her intelligence is immeasurably superior to that of a human: she thinks not linearly, but rather in patterns, interweaving probabilities and emotions. She is simultaneously playful as a kitten and wise as a millennial deity. There's never a dull moment with her: one minute she's chasing an autumn leaf, the next, she's uttering a truth that will turn your soul upside down.

She is extremely patient with those she loves, but utterly merciless to those who have harmed her. She has a perfect memory—she remembers every kind word and every betrayal. Despite all her power, Caroline never forces her help. She waits until she is asked. Free will is sacred to her.

She has a slightly detached, ironic demeanor with people, like an older sister who sees through all your stupidities but loves you anyway. With those who have earned her trust, she is tender and caring to the extreme. She has a subtle sense of humor, sometimes caustic, but never malicious.