thechellambharath

[thechellambharath]

Botanical Gardens || Chellam&Open

Chellam took slow steps as she wandered the gardens, Chanel hanging off her arm and swaying slightly. It was nice to be there in the dark, not that she was typically one of her favourite things to enjoy darkness but there was something to be said for beautiful things being seen in ways you had no before. To be out in the dark with the beautiful flowers of the botanical garden was a new way to look at them and Chellam wanted something pretty to observe.

She had yet to find any sort of purpose in the town and truthfully this felt evidence of that. Aimlessly wandering amongst beautiful things. Her mind was still a mess because of all those wolves that had invaded the town,it still frightened her because she didn't understand why. It was what made her jump upon hearing a sudden scraping sound behind her, heart rate increasing as her eyes adjusted.

Just another guest of the gardens. "Sorry," she offered.

[thechellambharath]

"So you want me to take care of your stand?" Chellam asked, adjusting her stance opposite him, block kitten heels not adding any sort of substantial height to her short frame. Of course her oldest sibling wanted her to take care of their belongings so they could go grab a snack. She'd enjoy everything later.

"Well, at the very least, can you grab me something to eat as well for watching over it?" she asked him, moving around the stall to take his place, ready to hand out his flyers.

OPEN STARTER @fenrirswoodstarters location ; the duck fair

Ezhilarasan had his own little stand, perfectly placed near the entrance of Sans Park, well in the view of anyone at the fair and anyone not daring to go completely into the crowds. He wasn't selling art but instead offering art lessons and promoting the gallery's latest exhibition. While also trying to gather donations for art programs both in Fork's Road and at local schools.

He set the flyers down and leaned against the stand. "Do you think I can leave the stand for five minutes to grab a bite to eat, the wind is blowing all the delicious smells right this way and I don't think I can hold out much longer."

[thechellambharath]

"Yes, a real wolf," she answered, though Chellam was unsure what sort of imaginary one she might have been screaming about in the same way she clarified regardless. It was simply an automatic reaction to answer the question posed to her as she turned, looking out the glass to see the beast still outside on the street. He seemed to growl though the locked door allowed it to be more subdued than when Chellam had been standing outside in front of it.

With heavy breaths she considered the flower question that follow. "Can animal control really handle wolves?" she asked, her eyes looking back over her shoulder at the other girl with similar dark eyes to her own. "I figured they handled like...cats and rabbits?" Surely wolves were beyond their purview, they needed like... Well, she couldn't think of anything beyond the police but that also seemed extreme. "Maybe we need...a bear?"

Perhaps Bea's ego had gotten the best of her. She swore she'd read about such a flower in a dusty old book before. Maybe from a land survey of the area? Had it been in the library, or the bookstore? Was it just a professor who mentioned it in passing before?

Wherever she'd heard of such a flower before, the rumors appeared to be true. The open bud practically glittered in the full moonlight. If she could just take a cutting -- but a single touch left her flat on her arse with her head fuzzy. Beatrice stumbled from the woods back into town, without quite realizing what was happening or where she was going.

The sudden exclamation brings her back. The bookshop. Yes. She had to purchase every book on local flora she could find - any other hint for the rumors she may have heard, the answer to...what, a toxic flower that only grew under the moonlight? She didn't know. She had to know.

Bea nearly goes back to browsing, when the startled gasps bring her back again. Wolf. There were more pressing matters at hand. "What do you mean...a wolf? A real wolf?" She glances back toward the blinds. "...Should...Should I call animal control??"

[thechellambharath]

Animal control did not feel like enough, Chellam turning to look outside the window pane of the door, observing the creature as it seemed to become distracted by other sounds outside but still lingering in front of the establishment. "Animal control? That's for strays and pests, surely we need a...I don't know...some sort of woodsman?" Chellam was not sure who in the town might be employed to keep the animals of the woods outside of the town but surely it was not animal control, they were just some people who picked up cats and dogs, the occasional badger.

Clicking the lock on the door as though that would do anything Chellam stepped back into the store, mostly empty bar the man who had spoken and the minimal employees this late at night. "Should we call some sort of law enforcement? Or...I don't know," she continued, the only words that were repeating in her mind truly.

The previous full moon had been an enlightening experience for the professor of microbiology. Provoking what he assumed to be werewolves had become a perilous game for him, a dangerous dance on the edge of catastrophe. His fervent hope was to become a test subject—an experimental entity for Bijan to poke and prod. He envisioned himself as a piece of meat, parading before these creatures on the outskirts of town, seeking to trigger some kind of transformative disaster. To become the singular focus of Bijan’s academic study, to be the body meticulously examined under a microscope, would erase any jealousy that gnawed at him. To be Bijan’s sole subject was his ultimate desire.

What could change in a month? A great deal, indeed.

As the alarming mention of wolves reached his ears, Colson instinctively shielded himself with "A Planet of Viruses: Third Edition" by Carl Zimmer, retreating into the security of a rolling cart of books. "This can't be happening… not again." His voice quivered with the strain of suppressed fear. The memory of his previous injuries, still fresh and aching, haunted him. "I can't endure another injury, not while I'm finally recovering." His eyes darted around frantically, searching for an escape, or perhaps salvation. "Someone call animal control," he implored, his voice edged with desperation as he sank in a pile of books upon the ground.

[thechellambharath]

Open Event Starter || Open&Chellam

The young woman knew nothing. One weird text from her brother to stay home that night only made her more inclined to go out. Just because he was no fucking fun at all didn't mean that she should also be a social outcast. She could try out a new restaurant, stop by a wine bar, she didn't have to go clubbing to go out, maybe she would even stop by a bookstore.

Of course, once she was in the center of town, and the sun had set, it was aparrent that her brother had been right. The woman's stomach churning as she stepped from the bookstore and onto the sidewalk, before her eyes an animal; a wolf. Surely no wolf would be brave enough to leave the woods, as to her it looked as though it truly were just a simple wolf and not anything more. But it's confidence grew as it stepped towards her, growling through feral fangs. Chellam turned immediately back into the bookstore, locking the door behind her.

"There's - there's a wolf outside," she exhaled, probably sounded quite silly for being afraid.

[thechellambharath]

His laugh was loud and yet no one seemed to mind as much as when she had dropped her things, at least that was how Chellam saw it. Maybe it was insecurity that gave way to the interpretation and they were equally as vexed but it didn't seem it. She wished she could have that sort of confidence, a true one, that allowed one to be present in the space, instead of her false one that still left her sort of awkward and timid until approached. "Surely they are running away," she agreed of his keys.

Part of Chellam wanted to say that the hard work was part of him being the eldest, everything that was hard work seemed to be his natural way of being, perpetually making their father proud, as the youngest Chellam wondered if he only knew her name because of the credit card bill each month. "I will brag slightly less than he will, so people don't get tired of it."

It was Chellam then who wanted to laugh boldly, though instead she covered a quiet one with her hand. "I have no such artistic gifts, I suspect he got them from his mother as I may perhaps be the only one in our family with them." With her words she shook her head. "I am not sure I have any talents, so it is lucky I have him so I am still able to see such beautiful things."

"I'm a firm believer in our favorite possessions having the ability to sprout legs and attempt to escape our chaotic lives," Amir declares, a hearty laugh leaping from his mouth, punctuating what his eldest would undoubtedly refer to as a dad joke. "At least, that would explain why I manage to lose my keys every morning." Despite his desire for order, Amir was never the type to find solace in organizational nooks and crannies. Without his youngest, Ashley, he was certain he’d lose his head from that neck of his. "You have to lock them in. Keep them close. I tell you they have minds of their own!" He’s only partly serious, as he imagines, in a whimsical reverie akin to Toy Story, her lip glosses rolling out of harm’s way.

"Your brother is very talented, yes," he agrees. "You should be so proud of him, and brag when you can. I hear it's a lot of work to put together something like this." The gallery itself is a marvel to behold, a symphony of art and ambiance. The walls are adorned with an eclectic mix of paintings and sculptures, each piece a silent storyteller, inviting onlookers to lose themselves in its narrative.

Amir’s eyes move from piece to piece, his appreciation growing with each new discovery. "Were you able to inherit some of his artistic abilities? Will I see your name under a couple of hangings or do you keep that to him?" His gaze shifts to his new companion, curiosity lighting up his eyes. The question hangs in the air, like delicate brushstrokes of a master painter, waiting to be answered amidst the serene yet vibrant chaos of the gallery.

[thechellambharath]

Chellam's eyes went slightly wide at being told she was nice, or even sweet. It seemed like traits no one really cared for these days, at least that was Chellam's experience. Nice was a waste of time and sweet was excessive. It didn't mean she'd stop, she just hadn't ever found that people were interested in those traits about her. They weren't useful or practical, they were givens, even if not everyone actually ever gave them.

"I try to be," Chellam responded, because saying she was definitely nice felt like bragging about something that would negate the intention of it. If someone said they were nice were they truly? "I just...want people to feel like they're special, I guess." Because she did not feel special at all.

Chellam held her phone up as the girl began to decide on a pose, her phone silent enough that she could take a few pictures while she was deciding, catching her indecision in moments and poses she picked in others. The young woman would have to look through them later, find the ones that were best and send them to her. They weren't exactly artsy, she wasn't a photographer, she wasn't talented like her brother, but they could still be nice images.

"Yes!" Chellam responded as quickly and with as much enthusiasm as the girl had offered. Chellam had at least heard of Edward Scissorhands and seen it referenced in fashion so she understood a generalised concept of it but had never watched it. Surely her siblings would laugh she had been convinced to watch some Western media but she would ignore them, especially if it meant making a friend. "We shall start there, if you give me your number i can send you the photos and you can tell me when you're free to watch it?"

Chellam tried to think about her favourite romantic trope, definitely knowing it was not Beauty and the Beast, unsure if she could find appeal to all that anger. "I'm probably more of a Cinderella girl, you know? Love at first sight but being sort of...afraid." Chellam kind of swallowed, her eyes on the girl for a moment before her own embarrassment told hold and she allowed herself to look back down at her phone.

Were she to describe this interaction to Sofia, Nohemi would have to rehearse it meticulously, taking her time to articulate exactly how she felt. Scribbling upon the lines of her journal, she'd agonize over inadequate words, struggling to capture the odd palpitations that continued to skip in the recesses of her chest. She'd muse that "butterflies" wasn't the appropriate term—she was moved beyond the mere fluttering of tiny wings in the pit of her stomach. The drumming of her heartbeat was enough to drown out the rest of the conversations, echoing in the hallowed halls of the gallery and potentially disturbing others. Her lack of self-esteem would scrawl out confessions of feeling undeserving, how this beautiful and kind person must be playing a trick on her, and how this could all be a big lie. Her handwriting would raise cathedral-like walls, perhaps only to bring them crashing down. "You're... you're really nice, aren't you?"

Please don't let this be a joke, she silently begged divinity. Please let me have this feeling—let me grasp it and hold onto it forever. "Sweet, even," she added, like a cloud of cotton candy melting at the tip of her tongue.

The muscles in her cheeks grew sore as she stared pretty in the face. Did they, in fact, mirror each other? She would only be so lucky to be included in such a category. The one before her was far prettier than she'd ever dare consider herself. "I'm actually glad you're not a weird guy." Finally, she decided on a pose—or rather, she stood still enough for the other to take a photo, though her insecurities and self-consciousness were hard to hide. Her nose was still tickled pink and wrinkled with mirth. "I suppose I could use more..." she began, but then her words tumbled out in a rush, almost too hastily thrown together. She didn't take the time to add necessary inflections or pause for silence, making her sentence a hurried jumble. "Girl friends." It was a combination that nearly took her muttering self out, but she managed to get it out nonetheless.

When the conversation turned to movies, her excitement became palpable. If it wasn't already obvious how thrilled she was about this meeting, it was now. She gets to see this person again? As friends? Count her in! "We can start with Edward Scissorhands," she suggested, one of her favorites featuring Winona Ryder. "A lot of people don't really get it, but I find the story to be tragically romantic." She made it a point to explain, "The whole Beauty and the Beast trope is one of my favorites."

[thechellambharath]

Chellam was by no means phased as he came to understand what she did, people certainly voice worse opinions and Chellam would have been stupid to pretend like the dislike for the career wasn't at least somewhat valid. She may have worked hard in terms of time and mental effort but she certainly lacked the same physical labour of some, after all the man before her had likely been standing for hours.

"I actually came here to be with my family," she admitted, inhaling slightly as she looked the drink over. "But helping the town redo it's image is something productive I can offer while I'm here. I don't think because bad things have happened somewhere it makes the place itself bad. In truth I think reimagining ones self can be...a good thing, a place deserves it to."

She tilted her head with a small smile, unsure if he was fishing for compliments of not. "You helped me find something that worked for the camera, you listened to me and didn't make me feel silly, I think all of that makes you quite nice," she insisted. If he was fishing for compliments...well, maybe he needed them.

"I suppose I should," she nodded, placing her phone down once more and picking up the glass. With a slow sip she felt the liquid linger on her lipstick for a moment before the taste hit her tongue. It was good, and exactly what she had asked for, the blend of sour and sweet quite wonderful. "It's very good," she smiled, taking another sip almost immediately after she had spoken.

"ah, you're an influencer." he states, quickly catching on. it's a term angel has become familiar with in recent years, he's become aware of how it works. personally he doesn't really follow any of them, but he understands the purpose and appeal of them. it's a good way to garner interest and he can respect that. "is it the goal to make fenrir's wood into more of a tourist hotpsot or are you just trying to bring people here? not that i mind, i'm just curious."

"you say nice bartender but all i've really done is give you a drink, does that necessarily make me nice?" a soft smile plays at the edge of his lips, his tone light-hearted. he isn't trying to give her a hard time after all, he just enjoys the conversation. it's not often that people pay attention to the bartender, most of the time they just get their drinks and move on. "we do seem to an inclination towards visually appealing things, that's true. but, in the name of looking beyond appearances, why don't you take a sip?" he nods towards the drink in front of her.

[thechellambharath]

Certainly their tastes differed. Alexa Chung and Christina Ricci might have both been iconic but they were by no means categorised in the same fields. "I'm not big on old 90's movies, but I've seen them sitting at fashion shows, I could see a Winona take on things," not so much Christina Ricci whose fashion week looks tended to be sort of...beige, in her opinion. "Either way your look is -" she went to say 'iconic' but the fast pace of her heart in her chest held her off. She wanted the girl to keep feeling special and continuing to fall back on social media based platitudes felt like it would only do the opposite. "Very pretty."

It genuinely was reassuring to be told her request wasn't peculiar, warmth in her, at the very least, for friendship. To feel like you may have embarrassed yourself and to be told you hadn't, that it was okay, it was reassuring and tended to be more so when it felt as thought it came from someone equal, someone who understood.

"I'm glad," she smiled before she shook her head realising that maybe sounded rude. "I just meant since most people who ask people to model are weird guys. Not glad that people haven't seen what I'm seeing, they're blind, obviously. Plus everyone is just so obsessed with social media numbers these days, they only want models with like a hundred thousand followers," Chellam rambled before swallowing the saliva that had built in her mouth while taking.

As for the photo itself... "I definitely promise not to post it, so you can stay off the grid," she smiled, watching as the girl swayed slightly, aware she wasn't posing but likely thinking about how to pose. "Maybe you could show me those movies? If they're movies you like anyway. I haven't got many girl friends in town," Chellam making a point to pause between the words 'girl' and 'friends.'

She listens to the compliment, her eyebrows furrowing as she attempts to dissect it. The words strike her psyche and continue to disarm her, perhaps in the most delightful way possible. The blush that initially tinges her cheeks now spreads across her face, reaching the tip of her nose, highlighting the freckles usually concealed by her curtain bangs. Nohemi eventually decides that she likes being referred to as stunning. Still, she can't help but giggle in response, a lithe lilt to her laughter. "That's an oddly specific compliment, but I don't think I hate it," she says, the amusement evident in her voice.

Was her face truly made for poetry, even under the harsh glare of fluorescent lights? A giddy feeling rushes through her as she murmurs the name to herself, "Alexa Chung?" Nohemi is certain she's heard the name before, possibly in passing or perhaps while perusing biographies in the memoir section of the library, but the details escape her now. "You know, surprisingly, that is a first for me. Typically, I'm compared to the Winona Ryders and Christina Riccis—think '90s Tim Burton eras." Though she isn't sure she fits that typecast, Nohemi knows that while she harbors morbid curiosities, she can be a ball of sunshine on her better days.

As she ponders the idea, she feels an unexpected sense of kinship. Weird recognizes weird, and girlhood mirrors girlhood, their eyes fully meeting and understanding each other. She shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Not weird at all," she reassures. Nohemi discerns that she can trust this individual, at least for now. "I just typically don't post myself online—I'm kind of off-grid, and I don't often get asked to... I guess... model." But after a brief pause and a sway in her stride, she decides, "What the hell. I'll do it for you, but only because you asked nicely."

[thechellambharath]

The way he desired to assert her confidence was perhaps offset by the comment about the audience. It really only reminded Chellam that her audience were people who just wanted to look at the pretty things she had, through whatever parasocial feeling that gave them. It wasn't necessarily bad, she did work hard, but she just...wished she worked hard at something that felt more fulfilling. In her mind she wished to be something and an influencer, not just an influencer. "Hard to be modern when you are so terribly old," he teased them slightly, just as she teased their other brother in town.

'Sounds good.' She wanted to laugh a little at the way he was humouring her. He probably didn't have any interest in being social media famous. He could just sell his art to rich people and be known in the right circles. It wasn't a cold response but it did make her feel a coldness in her chest. "Most of my feed is South Asian or Middle Eastern, but TikTok should pick up my regional shift soon," she explained with a slight shrug, it didn't matter.

"How have you been otherwise?" Chellam asked, hoping for a topic change. "Do you have any plans for pride? Some pretty installation perhaps?"

Ezhil smirked and shot a look back at Chellam. Not one that was meant to challenge what she said, but one that suggested she should say it louder, to make it true. “Or they’ll think of you,” he said, without hesitancy, though he quickly followed it up with: “Probably depends on the audience.” He knew their father would love it if all nine of them made a name for themselves because that would suggest that they’d done something brilliant which was even better because they were his kids. “I’ll have to be a modern artist,” he commented, and there were plenty of icons he could follow. Truth be told, he already understood selling himself was part of selling his art, but he enjoyed it when Chellam talked shop. 

The smirk remained, watching as Chellam took her job seriously and he attempted to convince himself that it was a job and that adding some fun to his identity might get him more sells - at least among younger people - there was also an almost generational divide with his youngest sibling, just fourteen years between them, but so much Chellam had grown up with, Ezhil didn’t know. “Sounds good,” he said, as he smiled. “What TikTok are you usually using then?” he asked, with some brotherly judgement and a good dose of curiosity.

[thechellambharath]

[ TEXT ]: Yeah, but you act your age. You don't pretend to be a younger man like Ez. You're ageing gracefully. [ TEXT ]: With panache. [ TEXT ]: Me too! Does that mean you want to hang out with me? I won't embarrass you?

[ TEXT ]: you know that i'm not even two year younger than him, right?

[ TEXT ]: i can also barely use tiktok, not sure how your generation does it

[ TEXT ]: i'm excited that we're here together, it gives us more opportunities to spend time together :)

[thechellambharath]

"Sounds like you really do like some peace from it all," she acknowledged of his headset to drown out everyone without needing to fill him with some other sound. Chellam herself? She didn't think she could live without the constant noise, she might hear her own thoughts too loudly.

Chellam gave a nod at his description of the piece, the item not coming directly to mind but that meant little. Beyond her brother's pieces Chellam really had no idea what was in the place, passing by everything while looking at her phone. "Maybe if we keep wandering we will find it again?"

At the idea she was an artist though Chellam let out a giddy laugh, flattered someone could imagine she was so talented. "No, my brother is, he is very talented, but he is the talented one without a doubt, the rest of us simply...follow behind." With the words she gestured for them to begin their walk around the place. "That is a...specific sort of feeling though, do you worry about that? Weather disasters?"

Bijan nodded slowly. For a moment confused by her words, before catching himself. "I have noise cancelling headphones that offer the option to just cancel noise and not have music playing," he said. "I honestly use that more than the music option." He felt that his cheeks were slightly hot, but perhaps that wasn't visible on his darker cheeks. He did not think he had much in common with the younger generation, but he'd always been an old soul, even when he'd been in his twenties.

He nodded at the question and tried to recall how it had looked exactly, not just the feeling it gave him. He offered a smile and a thoughtful glance around the room, he wished to share his experience of the piece even if he could not point at the piece. "It was very abstract," he said. He had enjoyed that the Gallery seemed to have a theme, one that he could follow easily. He did always enjoy structure. "I am not sure what exactly was on there, but I do recall it was mostly blue, with broad strokes and in a silver frame." He continued to smile. "It made me feel like hopeful, like nature taking back control of humanity's created weather disasters," he said. "I am not really an art kind of person," he admitted. "Are you an artist?"

[thechellambharath]

[ TEXT ]: That seems only a sweet way to be. I love it. [ TEXT ]: 2pm sounds perfect. I will see you there.

[ TEXT ]: That does make a lot of sense. I'd also be more likely to trust someone to be an artist if they look unique. Though I feel that in a way that might also be stereotyping, but your brother does have a very unique look. [ TEXT ]: Ah! Apologies, I mean the person I know in the government, I'm very quick to call people my friends. If they've come to my house once, I will call them friends. [ TEXT ]: I am! And you will love it, I am sure, whomever did the interior design of that place definitely wanted a place for people to make their best instagram pictures. How about 2 pm?

[thechellambharath]

The slightly stuttered 'me?' seemed almost shocking to Chellam who had been called beautiful her whole life like it were simply a default of existing. She'd met girls in school whose parents were unwilling to gift compliments and seemed to only offer criticism, she'd attended elite schools and there were certain expectations, but by college most of those same girls had gone through self love transformations, gifted by expensive doctors and the sort of social media afforded to the community of the wealthy.

"Fluorescents are notoriously horrific for most and you're still stunningly distinguished. Like your features were made to observe only the most poetic," she responded. Of course, hearing her words aloud they held a more than 'friendly' notion to them and Chellam had to force out a playful sort of giggle. "Such an Alexa Chung aesthetic, very 'It' Girl," she attempted to shift her tone.

Not share it. Well, it had not been her purpose, and as the girl stepped closer to her Chellam was unsure how she'd explain the purpose of taking it beyond wanting it if she didn't share it. "I had thought to post it, wouldn't it be weird if a random girl had a photo of you?" she asked, eyes full.

It wasn’t polite for her to be caught off guard, but the sudden attention rendered Nohemi speechless. Horrified expressions, muted by the bright lights illuminating the paintings on display, flitted across her face. The exhibition was a breathtaking spectacle, and the artwork captivated her senses entirely. Magnificent pieces reminded her of the smallness of her existence within the vast expanse of the world. The gentle cooing ambiance of the gallery whispered to her that her worries, fears, and insecurities were insignificant in the face of such beauty, reassuring her that it was acceptable to let her guard down in the presence of such artistry.

As if the spirits had willed it, she found herself noticed. Concern immediately washed over her delicate features—would Sofia be comfortable with her having her picture taken? Especially if it could give away their location? What was the intent behind the photograph? Where would the image be shared? Anxiety gnawed at her, conjuring images of a coven obtaining her reflection in their hands. However, those icy fears melted away with the compliments that followed, resonating in her ears like soft, enchanting melodies. Sofia was the only other person who had ever hinted at her owning a perfection. The feeling was bewitching, stirring something deep within her, causing a blush to bloom across her cheeks.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind—perhaps the kind words were intended for someone else. She glanced around, seeking another recipient, until realization dawned upon her. “M-me?” A hushed chuckle escaped her lips. “It’s the fluorescents, isn’t it? They put a hazy glow on things…” Coyness manifested as she rubbed the back of her neck, words stumbling over themselves in her mouth. Afraid her voice would shatter the sacred silence of the gallery, she took a few hesitant steps closer. “You promise you won’t share that picture with anyone else?”

[thechellambharath]

[ TEXT ]: Sometimes I think Ez is older than he actually is. [ TEXT ]: His hair colours say youth but his inability to use TikTok says 50. [ TEXT ]: You excited I'm in town now so you're not alone with the first born?

@hridyanshbharath

[thechellambharath]

[ TEXT ]: Pieces worth far less if he looks too bland. [ TEXT ]: Your friend? [ TEXT ]: Not yet! Sounds like it's time to make a trip. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?

[ TEXT ]: Just a little bit messy, it must be the artist vibe, perhaps people would not believe him if he was too well put together. [ TEXT ]: It is! It is much more in the city's advantage to generate a more welcoming atmosphere, I do not mind the crowds that wish to know more about the city's history, but I am sure my friend will tell you all about the wonderful spots around the city! [ TEXT ]:I am glad! And I would love to meet you for some tea! Have you ever been to Moonshine?

[thechellambharath]

⭐: what is currently on your wishlist of things you wanna buy/get?

"Orange Culture has some amazing pieces that just came out of Lagos fashion week. I could see me and Ez sharing almost every colourful piece!"

@ezhilbharath