[right][h2][color=8882be]Sirpa's Catharsis[/color][/h2][@silver21][/right]

[color=808080]The Keeper watches her curl inward, shrinking into the armchair as though she might disappear into its upholstery if she tries hard enough. It does not move closer. It does not move away.

[i]"There was annoyance, when you labeled Jay a Normie."[/i]

Warmth settles over Sirpa's shoulders. A throw blanket, oatmeal-colored and washed soft, smelling faintly of a linen closet.

[i]"...Every soul we have met has been as unique as they were alike."[/i] The large eyes blink. [i]"Including you, Sirpa. You are different. And also no different from anyone who came before you."[/i]

One of its limbs reaches out and tugs the throw blanket higher. The Keeper holds her gaze. Says nothing. Its attention shifts to the room around them.
[i]"So you find this place creepy..."[/i]

It turns toward the windows. Beyond the glass, the fog presses gray and heavy against the pane, close enough to be painted on, with no depth and no hint of what might lie past it. For a long moment, stillness. Then, low and slow, something drags itself past the window.

[i]"Each Catharsis is shaped by the one who calls it into being."[/i] The Keeper does not look away from the window. [i]"What manifests here reflects some aspect of them."[/i]

Closer now—the shape lingers at the glass, as if it knows it's being watched, before the gray takes it back.

[i]"Do you find comfort in fear?"[/i][/color]

[center][color=808080]━━━━━━ ◈ ━━━━━━[/color][/center]

[hider=What is Perceived][color=808080]
[list][*] Events in Sirpa's Catharsis can only be perceived by Sirpa[/list]
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