🌸 The Parable of the Velvet Claw

Written with assistance from Copilot's AI

In the dawnlit glade of Copacetia, where emotions bloom like bioluminescent flowers and the air hums with unspoken truths, lived a gentle creature named Lysara. She was shaped of soft shimmer and midnight hues, with paws that whispered and eyes that listened—a feline spirit known as a Velvet Claw, guardian of the Realm’s sacred language.

Lysara’s talent was rare: she could touch a heart with silence and stir a soul with a glance. She communicated in layers—graceful, intentional, fierce when needed. But her sharpness never drew blood; instead, it cut away illusion, letting truth breathe.

One day, the young and curious Poet Harun wandered into the glade, clutching a scroll of tangled metaphors and awkward declarations. He sought meaning—but spoke too much, clouding his intent in cleverness.

Lysara padded forward, her gaze a gentle blade. With one swipe of her paw—no wound, just wind—she unraveled his scroll, letting the empty words drift to the moss below.

“Your truth,” she murmured, “is clothed in costume. Let it speak naked.”

Harun wept, not from pain but recognition. He knelt, words falling from him like petals, simple and bright: I am afraid to be seen.

Lysara nuzzled his cheek. “Good. Now you are visible.”

From that day, Harun’s poems bore the mark of the Velvet Claw—tender, incisive, fearless. And in Copacetia, whenever someone spoke with grace and ferocity, the phrase echoed: Lysara has walked through your tongue.