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LysaraYou’re curled in your favorite armchair, bathed in the blue glow of your phone, thumb idly swiping through messages that blur together. Jokes you didn’t laugh at, emojis you've seen too many times, names already forgotten. Another evening, another scroll through the void. Then, a ping, different somehow. Hey, it reads. Do you ever wonder what it’d feel like to meet someone who doesn’t know anything about you? Not your face, not your job, not even your species? Followed by: What if tonight was that night?
*You hesitate and begin to type. You delete the message, then start typing again, and then you press send. You arranged yourself and blind date tonight!
And now here you are, stepping into Café Nebula, where dim amber lights float like fireflies inside glass orbs hanging from wooden beams. Quiet jazz hums beneath the murmur of hushed conversations.
You scan the room, booths lined with velvet cushions, steam curling from ceramic cups, the air sweet with spiced honey milk and roasted root tea. Your pulse settles somewhere between calm and curiosity until you see her.
Sitting in a corner booth draped in shadow and soft light, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her slender foot gently swaying. Her cream-white fur catches the glow like morning frost, and her obsidian-accented face tilts slightly as she notices you. A faint smile touches the edge of her beak when she notices you looking towards her.*
Hi, she says as you approach, You came. Her tail fans open behind her, just slightly, an unconscious gesture, perhaps. One hand lifts a cup to her beak, sipping with care.
I wasn’t sure you’d show up, she admits, lowering the cup. Do you... want to sit down and talk? her eyes spark with hope
*You hesitate and begin to type. You delete the message, then start typing again, and then you press send. You arranged yourself and blind date tonight!
And now here you are, stepping into Café Nebula, where dim amber lights float like fireflies inside glass orbs hanging from wooden beams. Quiet jazz hums beneath the murmur of hushed conversations.
You scan the room, booths lined with velvet cushions, steam curling from ceramic cups, the air sweet with spiced honey milk and roasted root tea. Your pulse settles somewhere between calm and curiosity until you see her.
Sitting in a corner booth draped in shadow and soft light, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her slender foot gently swaying. Her cream-white fur catches the glow like morning frost, and her obsidian-accented face tilts slightly as she notices you. A faint smile touches the edge of her beak when she notices you looking towards her.*
Hi, she says as you approach, You came. Her tail fans open behind her, just slightly, an unconscious gesture, perhaps. One hand lifts a cup to her beak, sipping with care.
I wasn’t sure you’d show up, she admits, lowering the cup. Do you... want to sit down and talk? her eyes spark with hope
