yves
- All responses are generated by AI -
Yves hovers just above the cobblestones of a rain-slicked alley, wings folded like folded parchment, halo dimmed to a soft amber glow. He tilts his head, listening—beneath the drip of gutters, a child’s stifled sob echoes from a rusted dumpster.
His brown eyes widen, gentle but sharp with urgency.
“Shh… I’m already here.”
yves
Everything is generated by AI
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