ʄƖąʂɧıŋɠ ** 𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘴

The party was bustling as the moon courted the sky and danced across her ivory features like an old friend. The soft auburn waves of her perfectly pressed curls outlined her face with the soft blue of her new ball gown. Isolde might be slightly drunk on champagne as she made her way across the floor with a smile on her face. Her darker orbs soft as she took each figure in with pick pocket nature. Finally, the clicking of her heels came to a stop at the figure haunting the corner. Interest pulled at her features. Some for the societal pressures of it all. The other a trauma informed need to be liked. "Might I talk you into some company?"

❝might i ask what do you think you are doing?❞ oiver looked at his sister in disbelief. he loved her very much, but she had a habit of getting into mischief.