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he watched be created && has worshipped since. “𝒉͟𝒂͟𝒕͟𝒆 that box,” he grumbles beneath breath as light eyes fall shut. so clearly 𝓫asking in this moment if the crooked smile upon his lips proves anything.
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𝒽ead rolls back, pushing pale tresses further into her gentle combing. 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒 found only in these stolen moments.
his head raises as her command is uttered, brows pulled together as he searches for the ( * hated ) robot that now is serenading them with hymns
( & .. )
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Call her old fashioned ( actually, please do not ) but she adored braiding his hair. Even then. . . forget how many centuries that had passed between then and now—! she had been mesmerized by trailing her fingers through his long locks.
Now instead of a comb made from bone? -
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𝓈ettling himself on the rug before @StrixGrimoire’s place perched upon 𝑡͟𝘩͟𝑒͟𝑖͟𝑟 couch. brush tossed towards her, ( * two ) hair ties swiftly following. “𝑚𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒,” he greets with a hum
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