❝ i go wherever i want to go, and no one can stop me. ❞
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obxtinate:
❝Oi, Harime. Something you need? I’m busy.❞
❝ Does a girl need an excuse to come and see her best friend? I just wanted to check up on you, Ryuko-chan! You, and your lovely new outfit — it's soooo much better than that tacky old thing you were wearing before, isn't it? ❞
couturieuse liked your post!!!
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itiinerant:
couturieuse liked your post
”How many
—times do I have to tell you to leave me alone!”
❝ Huuuuh~? Why so mean, Ryuko-chan? It's not polite to glare at people like that, y'know! You look at me like I killed someone! ❞
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scythewielding:
expression knits into one of confusion, blended smoothly with mixture of something akin to concern. young rose’s voice, past known for silence & passive nature stemmed from feelings of anxiety, now spoke up. albeit slightly quieter than her desired outcome, as sometimes her voice still shook when confidence lacked in cloak-bearing shoulders.
” it’s not very nice to say mean things about someones clothes. i mean … sometimes they look silly, but people like wearing them, so it should be okay. “
& she clucks, disapprovingly, a series of tut-tuts such as a mother would bestow upon a precocious child, one slim ( & so perfectly manicured! ) digit waving like a metronome in the air.
❝ You just don't get it! If something's ugly, it doesn't matter if somebody likes to wear it! That just means that they don't know any better. People should be thanking me, really, not getting all offended! ❞
she is not oblivious, of course; the couturier relishes seeing faces crumple, the stupid, piggish faces of those who don't know to conform to the veritable epitome of style ( revocs, of course! ) parasol twirls like some candyland merry-go-round, and the girl ( if she can be called such; monster is more appropriate, some would say ) rocks back & forth on platform heels.
❝ Who are you, anyway? ❞
couturieuse
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+ ihlou
❝ Shii—iiro—o-chaa—aan — !! ❞
haunting, wavering tones ring throughout the great sewing room, as the seamstress threads, crazed, a needle between her teeth in the absence of arms. flaxen locks bounce as harime's skull tilts menacingly to the side.
❝ Hurry up, hurry up, hurry uu—uup! Don't keep me waa—aaitii—iing! Maman's big project isn't going to stitch itself out of nothing, y'know! I need those fabrics now, now, now! ❞
#ihlou#[ hello! hope you don't mind; i REALLY wanted to write nui's creepier side and i saw this as a perfect opportunity. ]
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— — ❝ la vie est drôle! ❞
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& not a word is spoken by the extravagant girl — dainty fingers simply trace the multifarious outlines of mask upon mask. each is evaluated by her cyclopean gaze, not a whit of attention being spared for their actual creator & owner. a girlish hum is the only sound filling the shop, along with criticism muttered under coquettish breaths ( maman can do so much better! )
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❝ Ug-ly... ❞
parasol's wicked end taps a steady rhythm upon the ground, as this man(?)'s garish appearance is regarded and dissected by the grand couturier. a sigh escapes perfect porcelain lips.
❝ Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly! This won't do at all! ❞
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hello, new followers!! if anyone would like, please like this post for a little starter!
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— — ❝ la vie est drôle! ❞
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