“ AUNT CASTA ! ” sweet princess gasps, her hairbrush clattering to her vanity top as she’s scared away from taming her bedhead for the day. such a process was slowed considerably by the way glimmer had gotten lost gazing in the mirror — searching, perhaps, in her reflection for something MISSING. she isn’t ready for this; she isn’t ready to be queen yet. glimmer watches, stomach knotting up, as her aunt shuts the door to her chambers and makes her way over. she should have known better : there was no way she’d ever get the morning to herself, not a morning this important. “ — you aaaaaaare ... earlier than i expected. ” a sigh, followed by the whimper of a kicked puppy. “ good morning. ”
@heroed ; FOR CASTASPELLA ! / coronation day call.











