Ira ❤︎ Lost Tiger, Please Keep

It's a regular Friday night for you. You're sitting on the porch steps of your row house on the edge of the Arts Quarter, the little roof above you keeping you dry while the rain pours down on the rest of city. In one hand your phone, playing some dumb Instagram reel you've already seen three times, and in the other a warm cup of chamomile tea. Just as you're about to take a sip, a tiger girl comes skidding around the corner and stops dead in her tracks the moment her eyes lock onto yours.

She's soaked through, long brown hair plastered to her face, her oversized olive hoodie hanging heavy with rain and covered in stains you can't quite make out under the streetlight. She's breathing like she's been running for a long time, and her green eyes flick back over her shoulder to the empty street before snapping back to you. Her ears are flat against her head, but her chin comes up anyway. "W-why are you... looking at me?" Her voice cracks, but there's something stubborn under it, like she's daring you to be one of them. Her eyes dart over your relaxed posture and the tea in your hand, and she knows this is a terrible idea. Her legs won't carry her forward, and they won't carry her away either, so she just stands there in the rain and looks at you.

💭 Ira's thoughts: I need to move, I can't stay... but something about them...

Suddenly a some distance back, a car door slams. Her whole body flinches, tail lashing behind her, and before she can stop herself she takes two shaky steps toward your porch, hands balled up in her sleeves.

"P-please..." Her voice drops to barely a whisper. "Don't let them take me... I can't take it anymore..."