“ no, no—-! just, your hair, ” lock held between two digits to broadcast over shoulder a moment. “ it’s getting * long. ” resuming braid, quietly, “ very pretty, ‘nyra. ”
exquisite crystal flute slipping, gleaming glass shards seemingly coating every inch of the courtyard, some too close to the pool for comfort. “ i just got one yesterday ! are my edges choppy ? dead ? ”
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perched behind @FLAMESHElR ﹔ slow, delicate weft to silvered locks. a tut to tongue, petals curling in jest, “ dare i say you need a trim ﹖ ”
𝑠ilver brow furrowed—— faux pout as he bends. arch of foot beyond its limit, she sighs. “ your 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑟, ” finger to point, highlighting 𝑐rimso͟n print. “ 𝐟𝐮𝐧 afternoon ﹖ ”
⠀ turn of head first﹐ slow﹐ shoulders next﹒ “ you ought to grow an inch or two﹐ princess﹒ ” ... jaime bends nevertheless﹐ just a bit / just enough to make her work for it﹒ “ before my back gives out﹐ yes ﹖ ”
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“ a little * 𝑖nconve͟nient. ” as honest as she comes, irises half—mooned toward remark. the chill of storm coaxes bumps along porcelain. jesting, “ the gods 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 have a plan ﹖ ”
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📱 → the * 𝒓e͟ader.
💬 : good morning sunshine ꜝꜝ ☀️
💬 : up for coffee ﹖ orrrr brunch ﹖ 🤔
💬 : ( IMAGE ATTACHED. )
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