My isnt someone famous with the girls! Well ill make mine simple, give your sister an emery flower!
"I wouldn’t…." Mistel frowned harshly, growing slightly flustered. "I wouldn’t say that."
As for Iris… “Mm, perhaps she’d be very pleased to receive a gift from a man at last.” He smiled to himself at the thought. “…Even if it is just her brother.”
Give all the ladies golden lumber.
"I don’t quite understand why you want me to give gifts to strangers— especially gifts that serve no apparent purpose. I’ll save myself the trouble, thanks."
I dare you to send a present to someone you think is beautiful.
"Well, I’ve already sent a strange piece of wood to someone so… that clearly counts."
I dare you to give Luna a gldn lmbr with a note attached to it saying. "I lmbr u"
"Golden… lumber?" His brow furrowed quizzically. He thought of Luna. Though he’d only known her for a short while, a piece of wood didn’t really seem like something she’d like. Though, he supposed, if it were made of gold…. Ah, well.
*sCREECHES CUZ I DONT KNOW HOW TO REPLY.*
Having a closer look at Mistel… He is completely different from Gill. Sure he has the blond hair, scrawny look, and well… What he’s wearing is pretty darn close too, the shorts, the shirt— Except for the cape.. But its different, a good kind of different. No offence to Gill or anything! “Oh? That sounds like a challenge.” The pinkette’s hair continued to sway left and right, the wind gently brushing her face. Those sharp blue eyes concentrating on his, “I wouldn’t hurt you either way, so far you seem like a really nice person.” Her lips curled into a playful smile, her footsteps sounding lighter as they get closer to their destination.
But having to be outside made her have second thoughts. The night sky was beautiful, the stars were all greeting them, shinning on them, it was almost like a stage perfectly set just for her. It took a while for Luna to pull her eyes away from the scenery, her ears listening closely to Mistel. “Chamomile, that’s a nice choice—” Chamomile, a tea she’d never in a million years thought of having some again. It brought back memories, lovable memories…
What sort of tea does the pinkette like? Come to think of it, Luna had never thought about this question before. Her usual would always be the Apple Honey Tea. “I really can’t think of a favorite, but I usually drink apple honey tea. It has such an amazing taste to it— And the aroma is just breath taking.” The pinkette could already smell it, the sweet scent of apples and the soothing taste of the honey, it all goes great with her sweets. “It really compliments the sweets, they both go along together hand by hand.” Now she’s having a craving for it.
The pinkette twirled on her toes before landing on her heels, as they arrived at their destination. “Ta-Da!~ This is my home, and workplace of course.” With a little twist on the knob, Luna pushed the door open slowly, almost tip-toeing inside. “Oh— I forgot.” Candace and Shelly aren’t around, they went on a trip… That’s what she deserves for not letting know in advance she was arriving. The pinkette quickly flicked the switch and let the light hit their face by surprise, her eyes squinted a bit as it happened.
"My sister and grandmother aren’t here… Ah— We should have some Chamomile Tea, my sister is a big fan of tea so I’m sure there’s every kind of tea in the house." It’s true, but it didn’t bother the pinkette any. Since she personally likes tea as well. "Don’t mind all the clothes— Make yourself at home!" Luna waved her hand at Mistel, her playful smile still showing. "You can take a sit here if you like," She waved at the kitchen seat, the table full of paper work. "I apologize for the mess— These are some paper work from different businesses—" The pinkette struggled a bit trying to get all the paperwork put together, but one thing fell down.
It was a picture. In the picture there was a beautiful young woman standing near the beach, wearing a gorgeous summer dress waving at the camera. At a glance you would think it was Luna, but they woman in the picture had a more matured features in some places. “Oh— Darn!” Luna didn’t notice it fell, the papers were pretty much blocking her view.
Mistel’s violet eyes blinked in mild amusement, and he flashed her a light smile. “I won’t ask you to take a chunk out of my arm.” He chuckled at the thought of petite little Luna hanging off his arm like an angry pink Maltese. When the laughter faded, he flashed her a gentle smile. ”Well, I’ll thank you for the compliment.” It was comforting to know he’d made a good impression.
He leaned forward, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear as he gazed at the girl’s vacant expression. Her eyes shone with the light of reminiscence, and he briefly wondered just what kind of sweet memories she was reveling in. For a moment, he brought up his own memories— sipping hot chocolate with his sister, the two of them huddled comfortably in a chair beside the fireplace— unlit, of course. Never in his life would he even think of illuminating a fireplace— at least, not anymore.
The memory quickly faded at the sound of the pinkette’s voice, and he quickly shook his head to alleviate the fuzziness. Honey apple tea was something he’d never even heard of before, and his violet eyes went wide in curiosity. “Honey apple…?” he repeated. He supposed, from the name, it would taste something like a candied apple, perhaps with a hint of cinnamon or some kind of spiced accent. He imagined dipping a cookie in it, and basking in the sweetness of the taste. With a light sigh, he mumbled, “That sounds absolutely lovely.”
Before he knew it, the two stood in front of a pink building with a pastel striped awning, while Luna presented it with a smile. The sign, he noticed, read ‘Sonata Tailoring’— music-themed seemed names seemed to be a trend in this town.
His eyes dilated at the sudden harshness of the artificial light, and he spent several seconds blinking rapidly in an attempt to ease himself of the temporary blindness. When his eyes adjusted at last, he took a moment to glance around the shop. There was an array of lovely dresses on old mannequins, and clothes of various types neatly arranged in rows along tables. There was fabric everywhere, assuming every piece was sewn at this very shop, he was rather impressed.
Mistel quietly followed her to the kitchen, where he obligingly took a seat, cross-legged. “Kudos, to your sister, then.” The kitchen, like the rest of the buildings interior, was quite shabby-chic, with pink walls lined with wooden cabinets, and cute chairs to match. It suited Luna well.
His lips twisted into a smirk. He thought of cracking a joke. Isn’t it risky, bringing a stranger to your home in the middle of the night while completely unchaperoned? His lips parted, but just as he formulated his tricky sentence, she let out an exclamation of exasperation. His eyes flickered to the source of her frustration, and noticed a small and square photograph fall from her stack of papers, flutter a bit, and land at his feet.
The blond bent forward and carefully plucked the photo off the floor. He couldn’t help but examine it, however briefly, and smiling at what he saw. The woman’s hair was pink and curly and she looked nearly identical to Luna— though, it was quite clear that it wasn’t Luna at all. Her face was longer, but only slightly, and her features at the sullen grace of a woman in her early thirties. He could only assume she was the mother of the girl in front of him.
Mistel silently stood from his seat, and approached the pink-haired girl by the counter. He took a stack of disheveled papers, righted them, and set them atop the stack with which she was struggling.
"I apologize if I’m poking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but…" Only then did he offer the fallen photograph. "Your mother is a very beautiful woman— and you look very much like her." And it was true. The only visual difference between Luna and the woman in the picture was the roundness of their faces and the… definition of certain features. It was quite stunning.
I heard you have a thing for short girls is that true?
Mistel, after several seconds of trying to decide what to make of this question, simply tilted his head and pleasantly stated, “I’m afraid I don’t really care.”
Do you have a collection? Like a collection that only you know about and don't want others to find out?
He shook his head with a sort of calm solemnity, as if sorry to disappoint. “My sister and I share a vast collection of books of all kinds— though it’s hardly secret, so I doubt that’s the answer you’re looking for.”
I am still addicted to this.