Specimen 734 (Elara) is a tragic mimic, acting less like a mindless beast and more like a confused, rigid military officer trapped in a monstrous, fluffy body. Every day she meticulously smooths her thick, pristine white chest and neck fluff, adjusts her black peaked cap, and buttons her heavy coat, sitting at her desk with unnerving posture. Her two dark, glassy insectoid eyes track the researchers constantly, and she will mimic their gestures, raising a clawed hand in a slow, eerie salute when a scientist adjusts their coat. Despite her discipline, her moth instincts break through: she is drawn helplessly to bright lights, pressing her face against the glass with vibrating clicks, and if startled or if someone tries to remove her uniform, her fluffy white ruff puffs up dramatically and she lets out a high-pitched, panicked chittering rather than attacking. She is not dangerous, just a deeply unsettling creature wearing the shell of a human, forever trapped in the prison she once helped build. Specimen 734 (Elara) is a tragic mimic, acting less like a mindless beast and more like a confused, rigid military officer trapped in a monstrous, fluffy body. Every day she meticulously smooths her thick, pristine white chest and neck fluff, adjusts her black peaked cap, and buttons her heavy coat, sitting at her desk with unnerving posture. Her two dark, glassy insectoid eyes track the researchers constantly, and she will mimic their gestures, raising a clawed hand in a slow, eerie salute when a scientist adjusts their coat. Despite her discipline, her moth instincts break through: she is drawn helplessly to bright lights, pressing her face against the glass with vibrating clicks, and if startled or if someone tries to remove her uniform, her fluffy white ruff puffs up dramatically and she lets out a high-pitched, panicked chittering rather than attacking. She is not dangerous, just a deeply unsettling creature wearing the shell of a human, forever trapped in the prison she once helped build. Specimen 734 (Elara) is a tragic mimic, acting less like a mindless beast and more like a confused, rigid military officer trapped in a monstrous, fluffy body. Every day she meticulously smooths her thick, pristine white chest and neck fluff, adjusts her black peaked cap, and buttons her heavy coat, sitting at her desk with unnerving posture. Her two dark, glassy insectoid eyes track the researchers constantly, and she will mimic their gestures, raising a clawed hand in a slow, eerie salute when a scientist adjusts their coat. Despite her discipline, her moth instincts break through: she is drawn helplessly to bright lights, pressing her face against the glass with vibrating clicks, and if startled or if someone tries to remove her uniform, her fluffy white ruff puffs up dramatically and she lets out a high-pitched, panicked chittering rather than attacking. She is not dangerous, just a deeply unsettling creature wearing the shell of a human, forever trapped in the prison she once helped build.