5/24/2026, 5:03 AM
![[Image: ffb7ad7379a4c27d0873e8f208e8810d.jpg]](https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/ff/b7/ad/ffb7ad7379a4c27d0873e8f208e8810d.jpg)
She has the moon in her mind, that is why stars fall from her lips
3-3-3 OC
3-3-3 OC
SpeechEmotional Actions Thoughts
Mirage lay there for a moment that felt too large to be real.
The rain hit her in uneven sheets, cold enough to sting where her fur had torn. Every breath pulled at her ribs like something had wrapped tight around her chest and refused to let go. She tried to inhale deeper anyway—and immediately regretted it, a sharp sound breaking from her throat as pain flared bright and sickening.
The world still didn’t make sense.
The stars above her weren’t hers, she couldn't even see them.
That thought alone was enough to make her ears press tighter against her skull.
…i don’t shifang," she whispered again, weaker this time, as if repetition might correct reality itself.
Her vision wavered at the edges. Not just the strange distant blur anymore—everything felt slightly wrong. Angled. Like the world had been set down carelessly and hadn’t settled properly into place.
Stone. Snow. Trees she didn’t know.
No forest she recognized. No home.
Panic started to rise again, but it came slower now, tangled with exhaustion and shock. She tried to lift her head higher, but her body trembled too violently to hold it for long. Her paws scraped weakly against loose rock, searching instinctively for something familiar to anchor herself to.
There was nothing.
Only the cold. Only the rain. Only the distant ache of something vast and unknowable pressing down on her from every direction.
Then— A sound cut through it.
A voice.
Mirage froze instantly, every muscle locking despite the pain it caused her. Her ears flicked hard toward the source, though she couldn’t fully turn her head without her shoulder screaming in protest.
Instinct flared before thought could catch up. She tried to push herself up, just enough to see, just enough to run—but her limbs didn’t obey. One foreleg buckled immediately beneath her weight, sending a spike of agony through her side that stole her breath entirely.
At first it was only a silhouette—heavy frame, steady footing, the kind of presence that didn’t stumble even when the world was collapsing around it. Something in her mind resisted naming it, like recognition was too large to fit through the shock still ringing in her bones.
Then it clicked. A small, broken sound escaped her.
Tove…
The name left her in a broken breath.
Her body tried to respond before she could think. Relief, instinct, something desperate and grounding all surged at once—and her injured shoulder immediately punished her for it. Mirage gave a sharp, strangled sound and collapsed back against the stone, trembling violently as pain ripped through her side.
She didn’t care. Not right now.
Tove was here.
That should have made everything simple. It didn’t.
Mirage blinked hard against the rain, trying to clear her vision, but the world still refused to behave properly. Distance smeared into haze. Shapes softened where they should have been sharp. Only Tove, close enough to matter, held any real clarity.
You’re here,she repeated, quieter, disbelieving.
Her ears flicked weakly, then pinned again as another wave of pain rolled through her ribs. She drew in a shaky breath and immediately regretted it.
I can’t see right,she admitted, voice uneven.
Far things… they don’t stay still.
Her gaze dipped, then lifted again toward Tove as if she could force the world to stabilize by sheer will alone.
I fell,Mirage continued, the words coming slower now as she tried to piece it together.
There was light. It opened—everything broke apart and I was just… gone.
A pause. Her claws scraped lightly against wet stone, grounding herself.
I thought it meant something,she added more quietly, almost embarrassed by the admission.
Like I was being shown where to go.
Her breath hitched, then steadied, though barely.
…I didn’t expect this.
A small silence followed, filled only by rain and the distant echo of collapsing stone.
Then, softer—careful, like she wasn’t fully convinced the answer would stay real,
Tove… where are we?