it’s a morning routine, surely, how she parts her hair, gently braids it and ties it off at the ends; new ribbons sported, a gift from sal to her, pretty little things – she wonders if anything would look as nice as these do on her.
just like getting ready in the mornings, swallowing back a strange feeling has become commonplace; there’s a strangely foreboding aura that surrounds her from time to time, one she can’t seemingly begin to understand, but one that remains regardless of whatever she endeavors to do or say.
an atmosphere that tells her she doesn’t belong. that something is wrong.
but that’s fine, because sal will be about sooner than later! and with him, the fears and worries melt away.
(she wonders if that’s because of his presence, or because of something he’s actively done. still, the question is gone just as quickly as it appears.)
the mornings are usually somewhat long for him as it stands, prolonged by audience with princess mikotsu, the plan of how they will repair the red sea. just a matter of waiting, she assumes, as she sits down on the edge of their shared bed, feet dangling off the side.