"To escape is an art; to leave them wondering is the masterpiece. 🎩🔍"
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seen from United States
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"To escape is an art; to leave them wondering is the masterpiece. 🎩🔍"
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‘ you didn’t... see any of that did you ? cause uh... if you did... i’d do whatever you want to get you to forget about it-- okay ? ‘
@legendarythief
@legendarythief
The little yellow duckling sprinted across the stone floor. Her little webbed feet racing. Water. She needed water, pronto. Not for drinking, but something a bit more out of the ordinary. “Ugh, Lilie you meanie!” Irritation was written all over her little face as she neared the familiar fountain. On her back she carried a bundle of clothes meant for a human girl—her clothes. The school bell chimed on. If she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late! Why did Lilie have to scare her like that? Seriously, that old Halloween mask was scary! And here Ahiru thought they were done with Halloween. So much for that.
Once at the fountain, the yellow duckling set her clothes aside, and climbed upwards. Without hesitating, she jumped into the water. Bright red light flooded the water, consuming the little duckling. Yellow wings stretched, giving way to arms and fingers. The webbing on her toes shrunk, until it was non existent. The soft yellow feathers turned fiery red, growing into long strands of hair. In the blink of an eye the little duckling was gone, and it her place sat a seventeen year old girl in the fountain.
The unfortunately naked girl shot up from the water, and huffed. “Lilie, you’re such a jerk!” She shouted into the open air. Of course, Ahiru never bothered to check if anyone was nearby before her dive into the water. The girl simply assumed everyone else made it to class on time.
@legendarythief | Continued.
The fox didn't have to wait for very long before he'd start to notice a faint light in the distance. One that the plants seemed to be quite attracted to. Though some were repulsed by it and shied away from it. It grew stronger the closer it moved towards him, soon enough the fox was bathed in soft, quite warm, orange light.
"You don't look so good...Do you require assistance?". The voice that came was so gentle, and calm. It was almost motherly in a fashion. Flaming orange locks of hair flowed around a slender figure that seemed to be radiating the very light that Youko was covered in. It seemed the very thing that discovered him appeared to be a delicate flower herself.
"I won't hurt you, I've no reason to, so please be at ease". She stepped one step closer to him. Cautious, she was eying the rose in his hand but her eyes kept drifting back to the wound in his side. Her fair colored brows furrowed, a look of concern staining her countenance.
📂
Even though Maggie has a deep emotional attachment to her hair, and keeps it long to honor her sister’s memory, she finds it cumbersome and often considers cutting it short (though when faced with the reality of actually cutting it, she panics)
@legendarythief liked for a starter~
external partnerships are unheard of, but there she stands, beneath the tattered awning of a florist’s shop, for the rendezvous. she’s not one for camaraderie, prefers the solace of solitude, but alone, she is only capable of so much. some men are elusive, even the ones who beg to be seen.
rain drips onto the toe of her shoe, slides onto the pavement, and she folds her arms. alone, she acts on impulse, desire, comes to doubt and regret decision until she aches. she longs to contain herself, presses inward as though to compress. there is pain in futility, in weakness. reliance is a sin she hates to commit.
desperation leads to disaster. she chastises herself for seeking help in this hunt, begins to curse the scent of pollen. what she feels isn’t anger but something more youthful, a foolishness that grinds her teeth. one hand falls onto the stem of a rose, and she closes a fist around it, as though it were a throat capable of shedding blood.
then, footsteps, a soft step. she sighs in relief but disguises it as irritation.
she doesn’t bother checking the time, deciding it doesn’t matter. ‘you’re late,’ she says, but knows it isn’t true. she’s grown impatient in her isolation. ‘if we’re to work together, i have to be able to trust you. you know that.’