Slender and ethereal, with fur the color of seafoam kissed by moonlight — white tinged with the faintest blue shimmer when she moves. Her eyes would be mismatched: one turquoise like clear shallows, the other deep jade like the ocean just before a storm. She’d brush her tail along your hand, then drift away, leaving that quiet, steady peace in her wake. When she purrs, it sounds like the sea breathing — rhythmic, endless, full of secrets.

Massive and dignified, his coat a mix of dark charcoal and silver streaks, like thunderclouds before rain. His mane would be thick and wild, framing his face like a lion who’s seen battle and learned patience from it. His eyes — golden with a hint of steel — would hold that quiet intensity of someone who doesn’t need to roar to be feared. The one who doesn’t start fights, but always ends them.