𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐀 ( ~𝟐𝟎𝟑𝟎 )
“they keep looking at my hands, waiting for a fucking ring!” her voice rose higher somewhat, enough for some of the maids in the corner serving her tea to jump in guilt. nika could barely see her toes peaking out from over her belly as she laid down on the chaise, back hurting and irritable always irritable. “anyway, are you staying for dinner? i think they’re cooking that thing you like... i know what it is i just refuse to say out loud with my pronunciation.” ( @rcwens )









