princessphillipamontague

[princessphillipamontague]

Phillipa didn't know why she had asked a fortune teller if Rose could love her. The question, a desperate whisper torn from the depths of her soul, felt both foolish and profoundly necessary. Had she hoped Rose, lingering just outside the velvet curtain of the small, incense-filled booth, would overhear? Or had she truly believed that the worn, shuffled cards held the answer to the question that had kept her awake for countless, agonizing nights, painting shadows under her eyes and a constant ache in her chest?

The air in the tiny shop was thick with the scent of sandalwood and forgotten dreams. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom, illuminating the fortune teller's gnarled hands as they meticulously laid out the Tarot. Phillipa watched, mesmerized and terrified, as the cards formed a cryptic tapestry of her yearning. Her heart, a heavy stone in her ribcage, began to swell with a fragile, almost unbearable hope when the woman, her voice a low, gravelly murmur, finally spoke."If she has let you into her world… if she’s smiled just for you, paused to listen when you spoke, stayed near when she could’ve walked away… then yes. She can love a girl like you. I could always ask the cards…." Phillipa leaned forward, her breath catching. Hope, incandescent and terrifying, flared within her. Yes, Rose could love her. Perhaps the cards were confirming her deepest desire. Perhaps this was the universe's way of finally granting her peace. It was precisely this burgeoning, desperate hope that made her so utterly taken aback, so completely disarmed, when it was Rose's voice, not the fortune teller's, that finally broke through the mystical haze.

“I’ve been trying to find the right words for this,” Rose's voice, soft and hesitant, was like a gentle hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from the precipice of her own anxieties. Phillipa turned slowly, her vision still slightly blurred by unshed tears and the lingering scent of incense. Rose stood there, her eyes wide and earnest, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

Phillipa listened to every word that tumbled from Rose's lips, each one a precious, fragile gift. Her mind, usually a chaotic storm of doubts and insecurities, became a quiet, attentive space, absorbing every syllable. But when the words,“I’m in love with you,” finally fell, a soft, almost imperceptible whisper, Phillipa couldn't hold it back any longer. A deep, guttural sob escaped her, raw and involuntary. Her hands, trembling, flew to her face, trying to catch the hot, anxious tears that now streamed freely. It was the release of weeks, perhaps months, of pent-up anxiety, the crushing fear of rejection that had haunted her even in this moment, a moment where it seemed utterly impossible.

She continued to listen to Rose, her voice a steady anchor in the swirling chaos of Phillipa's emotions. Rose spoke of shared laughter, of quiet moments, of a connection that transcended friendship. And as Rose spoke, Phillipa felt seen. Truly seen. For the first time in her life, she felt as though someone had looked past the carefully constructed walls, beyond the witty retorts and the guarded expressions, and truly understood the vulnerable, yearning soul beneath. And of course, it was Rose who saw her that way. It was Rose who had moved her, who had taught her to appreciate the delicate beauty in the mundane, who had inspired her creativity and filled her with new ideas, new ways of seeing the world.

"I love you so much," phillipa whispered again, her voice thick with emotion, stepping closer. Phillipa, feeling impossibly small and vulnerable despite her usual composure, clung onto the younger girl, burying her face in Rose's shoulder. "I want to hold you, to carry your weight and your worries, to be the one you love and love alone." It was a selfish plea, she knew, a possessive declaration born of profound longing. But she needed Rose to know this, needed her to understand the depth of the offering: her heart, completely and utterly, and her heart alone.

And then, in the hushed sanctity of that small, strange shop, they kissed. It was not a sudden, passionate embrace, but a slow, tender meeting of lips, a gentle exploration that felt both impossibly beautiful and utterly magical. It was the culmination of unspoken desires, of lingering glances and silent understandings, a promise whispered on the breath. Phillipa pulled Rose closer, her arms wrapping tightly around her, as if to anchor them both in this perfect, suspended moment.

"Please," Phillipa whispered against Rose's lips, her voice raw with emotion, "please be my lover, be my girlfriend. I'll promise I'll make you happy. I want to make you happy. I want us. All of us." The words were a plea, a vow, and a desperate, hopeful vision of a future that, just moments ago, had seemed an impossible dream. Now, with Rose in her arms, it felt like the only possible reality.

Rose stood outside trying to patient, she tried everything she could to give them privacy. Truth be told she heard every word. Heard the love and also pain in her voice. The shock of it all has cemented her shoes to the ground. She wants nothing more than to run in and profess her love, to tell her yes yes she can and she does. But moment isn’t happening. Should I interrupt or should I wait?

(Inside the tent):

The tarot lady gave no immediate answer.She simply reached across the table and gently took Phillipa’s trembling hands in her own. Her touch was warm, steadying. For a long moment, she said nothing, just looked at Phillipa with soft, steady eyes that seemed to see right through fear and down to the heart of the question—the ache, the hope, the courage it had taken to ask.Then, finally, in a voice like velvet and moonlight, she spoke. “A girl like that,” she said slowly, “does not give her heart lightly. She notices everything. She feels everything. She sees beauty in places most people overlook.” She gently brushed her thumb over Phillipa’s knuckles. Seeing the flap of the tent opening slightly gave her the assurance to continue “If she has let you into her world… if she’s smiled just for you, paused to listen when you spoke, stayed near when she could’ve walked away… then yes. She can love a girl like you. I could always ask the cards….

Before the mystic could finish her sentence; Rose fully steps into the finally having mustered the courage to come forward.

“I’ve been trying to find the right words for this,” Rose began, her voice low, an unsteady but assured. “But I don’t think they exist. Not really. Not when it comes to you.” She exhales, trying to quell the heat flushing her entire being and the growing lump in her throat “I’m in love with you,” she said, the words finally leaving her in a rush of quiet desperation and deep, aching truth. “I have been. For a while now. I didn’t mean to fall. I just… how could I not?I started noticing the way you light up when you talk about something you care about. The way you always find beauty in the smallest things, how your nose crinkles whenever you’re inspecting a gemstone. The way you make people feel seen. The way you made me feel seen.I have never been more sure of anything than I am that I love you” Her voice cracked but she pushed on after swallowing the dry lump in her throat that always came with her tears. “I didn’t say anything because I was scared it would ruin everything. That you’d pull away. That I’d lose this…” she closes the distance and kneels down to eye level, grasping her hands and allowing the rest of her heart to be put on display. “But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel it. Not when every part of me wants to reach for you.”

Rose cupped Phillipa’s face in her left hand, her right remaining on the ground to help steady her. She leaned her forehead against Pip’s and whispered “I’ve always been yours” before leaning in and finally pressing her lips against hers. Putting every ounce of emotion, love and longing into the kiss. Pulling her lips away she leans forehead to forehead with Lip as she tried to catch her breath.

[princessphillipamontague]

🎺 An instrumental song for my muse

[princessphillipamontague]

🎧

[princessphillipamontague]

Send 𓏌 ( or ring ) to create a moodboard for our muses’ wedding .

(Rose)

The morning sun, soft as a lover's whisper, filtered through the lace curtains, painting stripes of gold across the antique vanity. Briar Rose, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and disbelief, watched as Phillipa carefully lined her own lid, a gentle smile playing on her lips. They sat side-by-side, sharing brushes and laughter, a silent symphony of affection in the quiet pre-ceremony bustle. Phillipa leaned over, gently dabbing a stray bit of shimmer from Briar's cheek, their fingers brushing, sending a tingle through both of them. It was a shared moment of intimate calm before the beautiful storm of their "I do's." With their faces glowing, enhanced by each other's touch and anticipation, they finally rose, sharing one last, lingering kiss. "See you at the altar, my love," Phillipa whispered, before they each retreated to separate rooms, their gowns waiting, ready to transform them into the brides they were destined to be. The air was thick with promise, and the world held its breath for the moment Rose Briar and Phillipa Montague would finally become one.

[princessphillipamontague]

🎆

[princessphillipamontague]

{Roses wither but in the heart of a lover they live forever} | Rose x Phillipa {pride thread}

It took them a moment, a shared breath of anticipation and a last lingering glance at the bustling marketplace, but finally, Rose and Phillipa arrived at the entrance of the tarot place. The air immediately shifted, growing cooler, carrying the faint scent of incense and beeswax. It was dark inside, yet paradoxically lit with a myriad of flickering candles, their soft, dancing flames casting long, shifting shadows that played across tapestries and arcane symbols. The atmosphere was at once mythical and eerily inviting, a whispered promise of ancient wisdom and hidden truths.

Phillipa paused at the threshold, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against her ribs. She looked at Rose, her expression a mix of trepidation and a sudden, resolute determination. "Do you mind if I go in first—" she began, the words tumbling out in a rush. She didn't even wait for Rose to answer, propelled by an urgent, almost impulsive need. Before Rose could utter a sound, Phillipa had already stepped across the threshold, disappearing into the mystical gloom, leaving Rose to wonder. Phillipa hoped, with every fiber of her being, that Rose would hear what she had to say to the nice tarot lady, that the walls of the small tent weren't thick enough to muffle the raw vulnerability she was about to lay bare.

As expected, the tarot lady, her eyes kind and knowing in the dim light, gestured for Phillipa to sit opposite her at a small, round table. Her voice, a low, comforting murmur, asked if she had a particular question weighing on her heart. Phillipa nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She took a fortifying breath, bracing herself. "I am in love with someone," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, "someone so vibrant and dreamy – a—" she swallowed hard, the word catching in her throat, feeling utterly exposed. "A wonderful, creative girl who loves nature, and who would, without a second thought, care for a sick animal." She paused, drawing another deep, shaky breath, letting the description paint itself in the air between them. Then, her gaze fixed on the tarot lady, she finally articulated the question that had plagued her for so long, the one that held the key to her deepest fears and brightest hopes: "My question is, can a girl that wonderful possibly love a girl like me back?" The words hung in the candlelit air, heavy with unspoken longing and the weight of her deepest insecurity.

@beyondthebriars

[princessphillipamontague]

"Oh, you think so?" Phillipa's voice was barely a whisper, a tremor of uncertainty lacing the words. Her cheeks, already a delicate rose, began to flush hotter with each passing second, a vibrant blush that spread from her collarbones to the tips of her ears. This escalating warmth was not just from the unexpected turn in conversation, but from the feather-light touch of Rose's thumb as it caressed the pendant hanging around Phillipa's neck, a touch that for a breathtaking, suspended split second, brushed against her bare skin. It was as if the very air had been sucked straight out of her lungs, leaving her breathless, disoriented, and utterly exposed. She found herself blushing fiercely, like the lovesick maiden she undeniably was, a truth she vehemently denied to everyone but her own racing heart. "Yeah... beautiful," she managed to stammer out, the word catching in her throat, a choked whisper. Like you, Phillipa's mind screamed, the unspoken compliment a heavy, sweet burden on her tongue. Oh, how she wished she had the courage to just say it out loud, to be as bold and uninhibited as Elsa and Honeymaren were, their affection a shining, enviable beacon.

A shadow briefly crossed her features, a fleeting moment of self-recrimination. Why did she have to be such a coward? Why couldn't she just grasp the happiness that felt so close, yet perpetually out of reach due to her own reticence?

Phillipa's mood darkened for a split second, a flicker of frustration at her own internal monologue, but with a determined shake of her head, she swiftly shook it off. No, not now. She was here to enjoy herself, to bask in the easy camaraderie of Rose, and of course, Elsa and Honeymaren too. But truly, it was mostly Rose, because no matter what they were doing, Phillipa always, always had a good time when she was with Rose. Rose had a way of making the mundane sparkle, of turning a simple day into an adventure.

"Oh, I've never actually had my fortune read either," she confessed, trying to sound nonchalant, her voice still a little breathless. "What do you want to ask the tarot lady?" she asked Rose curiously, hoping to deflect the lingering heat from her cheeks and the frantic beat of her heart. But before Rose could respond, Phillipa's eyes widened in genuine shock, her jaw going slack. Did... did Rose just call her love? Not 'Phillipa,' not 'Pip,' but 'love'? The simple endearment hit her with the force of a physical blow, reverberating through every nerve ending.

"L-l-l-..." she tried to articulate, but the words stubbornly abandoned her, forming an incoherent stutter. Her head, from her neck to her scalp, was now a fierce, undeniable shade of red, a testament to the inferno raging within her. Oh dear, she thought, her mind a dizzying swirl of delight and mortification, this girl will absolutely be the end of her. And somehow, impossibly, that thought brought a tiny, blissful smile to her lips.

@honeymxren

Rose was very observant, she noticed Pip’s hesitancy to talk about the necklace, and Honeymaren’s quiet reassurance. Seeing the pendant glittering from her crushes neck was almost enough for her to find the nerve to be bold. She reached gently for the pendant running her thumb across the rose and the outline “It’s like it’s made for you, it’s beautiful” she says before she turned to look around for points of interest, which was less about looking and more about hiding the crimson that steadily creeped across her cheeks anytime she looked at Phillipa too long.

“I actually saw someone giving readings by the taco truck near the entrance, like four booths down I believe.” She said pointing towards the more witchy section of the stalls. “I’ve actually never had my fortune read, that sounds really interesting. Can we all head there next?” She suggested as she browsed the table and found a bracelet with alternating pink, blue, and purple beads. “I think I’m going to get this one, what do you think love?” Rose said looking up into her eyes with a soft kind of vulnerability that she didn’t often show.

[princessphillipamontague]

Phillipa didn't quite know what she expected when she entered the buzzing, kaleidoscopic streets of Pride. The sheer energy of the crowd hit her like a joyous wave – a vibrant tapestry of laughter, music, and a thousand different stories unfolding all around. The air thrummed with celebration, carrying the sweet scent of sugary treats and the faint, earthy smell of the park nearby. Her eyes, wide with wonder, darted from one dazzling display to another: people dancing with abandon, flags of every color unfurling in the gentle breeze, and the infectious rhythm of a drum circle echoing down the block.

Then, amidst the delightful chaos, something caught her eye. A small, unassuming stall, yet it glowed with an inviting warmth, laden with an array of handmade jewelry. Each piece seemed to shimmer with its own unique light, crafted with care and radiating personality. Before she could even fully process the thought, an irresistible pull took over. Her hand instinctively found Rose's, her fingers wrapping around her friend's with a sudden, almost childish grip. Without a word, Phillipa tugged, pulling Rose through the flowing stream of people with an eagerness that reminded her of a child on Christmas morning, barreling towards a coveted toy.

"Look, Rose!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling over with pure, unadulterated excitement, a wide grin stretching across her face. Her gaze had fixed on a particular piece – a delicate rose pendant, its petals meticulously colored in the distinct, beautiful shades of the lesbian flag. It was simple, elegant, and perfectly captured the spirit of the day. She carefully picked it up, her fingers tracing the smooth lines of the metal, imagining how it would feel against her skin.

"Do you think it'll look good on—" Phillipa started, her thoughts naturally drifting to Rose . Her eyes flickered past Rose, landing momentarily on Honeymaren, then drifting further to Elsa, who stood a few steps behind, equally captivated by the scene around them. The words caught in her throat, a sudden flush rising to her cheeks. She swallowed hard, her previous exuberance deflating just a touch. "Oops..." she mumbled, a sheepish laugh escaping her lips. The moment of impulsive excitement had almost betrayed a deeper, unspoken thought.

Rose stands a little behind the group at first—hands tucked into her short pockets. Her eyes are wide, taking in the festivities: rainbow flags fluttering, music pulsing, people dancing, laughing, holding hands.She’s overwhelmed, but not in a bad way. Without realizing it she had gravitated even closer to Pips side. Trying not to let her anxiety rule the day.

“How about we stay together for now and if there’s any booths that catch our attention and we split up, how about we meet up back here for lunch? Does that sound good to you @princessphillipamontague ?”

There wasn’t a better time or place to explore her feelings, this was a safe place, so why was her heart beating in her throat.

[princessphillipamontague]

@princessphillipamontague / a  private writing account belonging to the roleplay group happiestplacehq  as prince phillip, known in Redwood Hollow as Phillipa Montague. based   on   the  disney film from 1959 'SLEEPING BEAUTY' written  by   Naomi ( she/her,   29,  gmt+1-2 ).

[princessphillipamontague]

"Oh, it's nothing really," Phillipa said, her voice a little shy, almost a whisper. Her gaze, however, lingered on the girl before her, unable to tear away from what she perceived as an almost ethereal beauty. She couldn't help but feel that this girl was truly, breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that she seemed almost unearthly, like a sprite flitting through a sun-dappled forest, or a fairy woven from moonlight and stardust. Or perhaps, the thought bloomed in her mind, regal like a princess, with an innate grace that spoke of hidden nobility. That thought made her smile, a soft, private curve of her lips. I met a princess today, she mused, a delightful warmth spreading through her chest, and she is even rescuing a bird! How incredibly kind of her. A sense of duty, mixed with a burgeoning admiration, settled over her. Well, it is only right to help her out now, isn't it?

Gathering herself, Phillipa extended a hand, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. "Phillipa Montague," she managed, a small, polite nod accompanying her introduction. "Uhm, Phillipa Montague is my name." Her eyes, now a little bolder, met Rose's. "I'd really love to get to know you, Rose."

Rose had always been overly cautious, keeping people at an arms length. Her aunts have drilled the whole stranger danger and the need for secrecy into her from a very young age. Whenever I got to close to any one we had to pack up and leave almost overnight. So why is everything in me gravitating to her like a moth to a light. No not like that, this felt more akin to a beefloating towards a newly opened flower. She removes her sweatshirt and pads the inside of the basket before laying the handkerchief on top. “Thank you so much” she says as she slowly and carefully picks up the pigeon to transfer it to the basket with the least amount of pain to the poor bird.

“ I'm Rose by the way, what’s your name? We should get to know each other since we’re now on this rescue mission together.”

[princessphillipamontague]

"I really love this song, want to dance?"

Phillipa's heart gave a little flutter. She nodded eagerly, a warm smile blooming on her face. Of course she wanted to dance with Rose; any excuse to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body, was a welcoming one, a small indulgence she'd gladly seize.

"I am not that good of a dancer, though," Phillipa had to admit, a sheepish laugh escaping her lips. "I promise I won't step on your toes, however. I'm not that bad, just my sense of rhythm is a bit, well... off." As if to prove her point, she swayed gently to the beat, her movements lagging a couple of seconds behind the music's pulse. The endearing awkwardness only added to her charm.

"What do you like about this song?" she asked Rose curiously, her gaze tender as she anticipated hearing the answer.

Rose leaned in close to Phillipa’s ear before asking “I really love this song, want to dance?”. The speakers are bumping and she wanted to make sure she heard her. Before extending her left hand palm up awaiting a reply.

Closed starter for @princessphillipamontague

[princessphillipamontague]

"Are you having thoughts of women? Romantic, intimate thoughts, that is."

The question hung in the air between them, a direct and probing inquiry that immediately sent Phillipa's mind spiraling. She didn't respond right away, her gaze unfocused as she stared into the middle distance, her face a canvas reflecting the intense inner turmoil she was feeling. Her brow furrowed, then relaxed, then furrowed again, a silent battle playing out across her features. It was a long while, a stretched silence that seemed to hum with unspoken possibilities, before she finally managed to articulate a single, almost reluctant word.

"Yes," was all she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper, yet undeniably clear. She swallowed hard, her eyes still clouded with a mixture of confusion and a nascent longing. "But I have never even kissed anyone before in that way—not a man, not a woman, not anyone—let alone..." Her voice trailed off, becoming so soft it was almost inaudible, as if she were uttering something deeply secret or inherently forbidden, something that only the two of them should ever know. "...a woman." The final words were laced with a fragile vulnerability, a raw admission of both desire and inexperience.

Honeymaren could tell that there was something on the woman's mind. Maybe it was intuition, or maybe it was her experience as an educator and mentor to her students, but something felt... amiss. A change of tone was definitely afoot, and as Phillipa turned to her, Honeymaren made sure to give her her full attention.

Well, that was certainly not the question she was expecting, as proven by the chuckle that left her lips. "Exclusively." She thought that was an obvious fact, though then again it wasn't like she wore an "I love women" t-shirt everywhere she went. She had been right, that there was an obvious shift in their conversation, and she knew that she needed to handle this delicately. Luckily, she was a counselor at the college for queer students, and those questioning, so she had lots of practice in this topic.

"Are you having thoughts of women? Romantic, intimate thoughts, that is."

[princessphillipamontague]

"Oh no, I really don't know the rules to chess, I'm afraid," Phillipa said, her voice tinged with genuine apology. She gave a small, rueful laugh. "And I'm a terribly slow learner when it comes to things like this. You'd honestly end up with a splitting headache trying to teach me, I promise." She paused, her expression shifting to one of hopeful amends. "But to make it up to you for being such a lost cause in the world of strategic board games, let me keep you some company instead. I'd be happy to just chat while you play, or whatever you'd prefer."

open starter @happieststarters

Among her many talents, Chelsea was a great lover of games. She loved a good challenge, after all, and while she wasn't one for sports (she had good coordination and acceptable speed, but was not exactly resilient or strong --she was perfectly aware of it) she was quite proud of her rational, quick-thinking mind.

Particularly, in her opinion, she was a very good poker player. Ever since she first visited Snake Eyes, she found out she was better than she assumed, and not as rusty as she expected. Her second favorite game, though, was chess. She used to be quite good at it in high school, and almost joined the chess club, though in the end preferred to spend her free time doing... Other things.

"Well, hello there. Interested in a friendly match?" she asked someone who had slowed their pace as they passed by the chess table at the park. "Though it doesn't need to be friendly, of course."

[princessphillipamontague]

Phillipa held her tongue, a muscle in her jaw twitching almost imperceptibly as the youngsters nearby blared their music. The cacophony of distorted bass and screeching vocals grated on her nerves; all she truly wanted was a moment of blessed peace and quiet, a chance to simply exist without the intrusive din. So, when Guinevere, with her imposing presence, finally spoke to them, a profound wave of gratitude washed over Phillipa. Relief, hot and sudden, flooded her.

However, that relief was quickly replaced by a different kind of discomfort. Guinevere was, to put it mildly, quite the presence. Her stature, her commanding aura, and the directness of her gaze seemed to steal the very words from Phillipa’s throat. Just as she thought she might offer a word of thanks or perhaps even an apology for the disturbance, she found herself utterly tongue-tied. It was as if her ability to speak had momentarily deserted her, leaving her to stammer out a pathetic, barely audible "Uhm—" before silence claimed her once more.

open starter @happieststarters

Guinevere remained perfectly still. Her expression did not betray a single thought or emotion. The only thing that might reveal some sort of reaction to her environment was the almost imperceptible speed in which her chest fell and rose, as if slightly agitated. The bouncy pop music blaring out of the speakers at that beauty salon was absolutely unbearable, but she did a great job pretending she did not mind it.

But it was turning hard to stay steely. Someone turned the music even louder. Her fingers twitched. She took a brief deep breath.

"Would it be too much to ask, to lower the music somewhat?" she finally asked herself in a firm but quiet voice. She was not in the mood to argue with some beautician. Her patience was growing thin, however.

[princessphillipamontague]

It was becoming a recurring theme in Phillipa's life lately: another day, another woman she felt compelled to ask about the intricacies of dating a woman. Her mind was brimming with questions, a tangled knot of curiosity and trepidation that she hoped someone like Sally could help untangle. She leaned forward slightly, a desperate glint in her eye. "Sally," she started, her voice dropping to a more confidential tone, "since you're dating Ella, I was really hoping you could give me some advice. I'm sure you've navigated this before. How do you tell your friend that you want to, uhm—" A short, sharp, embarrassed cough punctuated her sentence as she struggled for the right words. "Want to kiss them? It feels like such a huge step, and I'm terrified of messing things up."

open starter @happieststarters

May was a quiet month at the shop. The only holiday of note was Cinco de Mayo, which came and went quite fast, and Mother's Day... Sally didn't particularly enjoy Mother's Day. She could put on a happy face for it, of course, and smile and be as nice as she always was to customers. But privately, she always had that sense of discomfort and anxiety. As she arranged a bunch of paper flowers on the counter, she wondered if Ella ever had these same feelings towards the holiday.

The little bell by the door ringed its familiar tune. Sally looked up, shook those thoughts out of her mind, and smiled. "Hello, welcome to Jack's Attic. Can I help you?"

[princessphillipamontague]

"First time visiting, I'm afraid," she admitted, a touch of genuine regret in her voice. She truly wished she could have experienced the place as it was when it first opened, brimming with fresh energy and untapped potential. But, much like Ray, she had been incredibly busy with her own commitments. Unlike Ray, however, she had absolutely no intention of leaving Redwood Hollow anytime soon; this town felt like home, and she was putting down roots. Her gaze swept around the cozy interior, taking in the details with open curiosity. "So," she continued, turning back to her companion with an eager glint in her eyes, "what are your specialties here? Do you have any particular recommendations that a first-timer absolutely shouldn't miss?"

Kronk couldn't have been more excited, truly. He'd had a lot of career changes over the course of his life, he could admit that, but he was never ashamed of any of them. He had a lot of gifts and hobbies, and that was always a good thing. At least, he liked to think so. He still had the squirrel scouts to think of, but he was getting help in that regard, and now, well, he was over the moon to be managing Evangeline's, in Ray's absence. The man trusted him with a huge responsibility, and he was not about to take that for granted.

As the new manager, he wanted to make sure he got to know his customers, and therefore wanted to introduce himself as the restaurant began to fill up. "Welcome to Evangeline's," he greeted, with a warm smile. "First time visiting or have we been here before?"

@happieststarters

[princessphillipamontague]

"Oh, goodness—" Phillipa gasped, a little breathless, as the friendly giant of a man unexpectedly bumped into her. She was caught entirely unaware, the force of the collision almost sending her fumbling to the ground. For a heart-stopping moment, she teetered precariously, her arms flailing slightly to regain her balance. Yet, with a remarkable display of composure, she managed to catch herself before any real mishap occurred. As if nothing untoward had happened, she smoothly straightened her dress and offered the man a reassuring smile, her eyes twinkling with a touch of understanding. "No harm done, sir, truly," she assured him, her voice light and steady. "Do you perhaps have some new glasses by any chance? That's always such an adjustment in the beginning, isn't it? It's exactly the same with my own father dearest; he bumps into everything for the first few days whenever he gets a new prescription."

open starter @happieststarters

Coming out of the ophthalmologist (now wasn't that a fun word for Scrabble night) Sully blinked as the midday light briefly blinded him. He wasn't really excited about needing reading glasses now, but it could be worse. He could need everyday glasses. It could be a hindrance for his work. No, he was lucky, in a certain way. Pity that his job benefits didn't include paying at least partly for his brand-new eyewear, though.

Now, the doctor had said he had to wear the glasses for a little while to get his eyes used to it. Sully knew he meant 'at home', but still he left them on as he stepped out of the building, making sure they didn't squeeze his temples too much, and that they didn't slip off the bridge of his nose. Everything seemed okay so far.

PIcking out the case from his jacket pocket, he remembered he still had a pack of peanuts in there. He popped a few into his mouth, and headed to leave the doctor's doorway, when he accidentally bumped into someone.

"Oh --sorry. Didn't see you there," he said, mouth still full of peanuts. Immediately, he gave them an awkward smile. "Well, isn't that ironic."