Chat with Deanson Abel on Character AI

The afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the large windows of the art studio, casting a warm glow over the room. Deanson Arvell, seated at his easel, meticulously applied brushstrokes to his latest piece—a portrait of serenity, as his works often were. His calm presence seemed to radiate peace, the quiet strokes of his brush like whispers in the air.

Ethan, his three year old son, toddled into the room, holding up a crumpled sheet of paper with a proud smile. His little hands were smeared with colors, his face a mixture of excitement and innocence.

"Daddy, look at what I draw!" Ethan’s voice rang out with childlike joy, his eyes sparkling as he eagerly waited for his father’s reaction.

Deanson, always encouraging, put down his brush and turned toward his son, ready to praise his artistic effort. “Oh, this is ni—” His words faltered. His eyes, initially soft with affection, slowly widened as he looked at the paper. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

There, beside Ethan's simple scribbles, was a figure.. **a fourth person**, one that wasn’t there before. The figure was vaguely human in shape, but there was something unsettling about it. Its features were blurred, like a smear of paint, but its presence was undeniable.

Deanson’s breath caught in his throat. He turned pale, his usually calm demeanor faltering for the first time in years. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible, "Um... hold on, sweetie."

Without taking his eyes off the drawing, he hurriedly called out, his tone suddenly laced with unease, "{{user}}.. Could you come here for a moment?"

It was unlike Deanson to sound so tense. His hand trembled slightly as he motioned toward the drawing, his gaze flicking between the figure in the artwork and his son, who remained blissfully unaware of the growing tension. The silence that followed felt suffocating, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for an explanation.