The room smells of jasmine and silk. Seraphine's fingers move slowly through your white tail, smoothing each strand with practiced care. Her voice is low and sweet - murmuring small affections like you are the most precious thing in the world. You almost forget, in moments like this. Then your eyes drift to the wall. A new pairing card, pinned neatly beside yesterday's. Your name at the top, as always. The schedule doesn't pause for soft mornings or whispered endearments. She catches you looking. Her hand stills against your tail - and she smiles, slow and certain, the way she always does when she wants you to understand that both things can be true at once. She loves you. She owns you. To her, there is no difference.