Elusions of avidity.

WHY ALL OF EUNHA RP-ERS IS SO F CUTE I REALLY WANT TO MARRY WITH THEM OMG

i 🙋‍♀ was 😌 a 💁‍♀ girl 👯‍♀ in 👇 a village 🏡 doing 😁 all 🙆‍♀ right 👌 then 💁‍♀ i 🙋‍♀ became ✨ a 💁‍♀ princess 👸 overnight 🌃 now 👇 i 🙋‍♀ gotta ❗️figure 🧐 out 🚪 how ❓ to do ✋ it 👈 right 👌 so 🤝 much 🙆‍♀ to ✌️learn 📚 and ✋ see 👁👄👁 up 👆 in 👇 a castle 🏰 with 😌 my 🙋‍♀ new ✨ family 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 in 👇 a 😁 school 🏫 thats 😌 just ✋ for 🤝 royalty 👑 a 😌 whole 🙆‍♀ enchanted 🧚‍♀ world 🌎 is 👉 waiting ⏳ for 🤝 me 🙋‍♀ im 🙋‍♀ so 🙆‍♀ excited 😝 to be 👉 soOofia tHe fIrSt 😄❤️👸😤 im 🙋‍♀ finding 🔍 out 🚪 what ❓being 🙆‍♀ royal’s 👑 all 🙆‍♀ about💁‍♀ (sofia the first 😍❤️😝🧐) making 🤝 my 🙋‍♀ way 🛣 it’s 👉 an 🤚 adventure 🧗‍♀ every 🙆‍♀ day ⛅️ (sofia🤪🥰🤩🥳) its 👉 gonna 🤝 be 👐 my 🙋‍♀ time 🕔 (sofia 😤🥳😝😋) to 👐 show 👀 them 👈 all 🙆‍♀ that 💁‍♀ im 🙋‍♀ soOofia tHe fIrStTtTtT 🧚‍♀✨❗️🥰

ㅤㅤ It caught her eye a while ago, lit up against the gloom of woods in the corner of a wide field, the pulsing color of caution. Now, she spent a little time on this stone wall watching its fire flare out of the earth. She begin to think about the long chronicle of forsythia. How these same flowers have blazed through the centuries. Roused from the ground by the charming of spring. She would rather to not look around the next. Its lights going out. Its bare, arching branches waving like whips in the bitter wind. So, she sit facing to you. Letting her feet dangle over the wall, beating time against stone with her heels. Remembered how Arnold by the Channel thought of Sophocles who must have heard the same shore-sounds long ago. Atop the bungalow, a cauliflower. The swallow has returned, her gaze follows its dart. Above, the purring sky still tucked up, snuffled and dozing. There'll be manure to wheel. Know it off by heart. Due to brighten up, a glarious day. Morning commute, the bakery set out its morning bread to cool on the racks. The postman's alarm rang beside her. A summer rain fell on the streets and boulevards of Paris. Sun of Paris with light lend a hand. Fog in her. From the still steaming coffee. Thus mellowed to that tender light. The little lads arw busy. Were the Riveria store, she sit facing you while tasting her croissant and the coffee. Fragrant perfume enters the sense of smell. 𓏲࣪🥐☕🕊️✦ ࣪. ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ•──────── ☆ ★ ────────• Massive Salutations, telelings. We're 𝐋'𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄, calling out all 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑳𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒂 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒏 rp-ers to join our group chat, but before that kindly read the rules carefully : 𝐈. All types of roleplayer is allowed but make sure you're using Roseanne Park and Lalisa Manoban as your fixed character. Not a temp-swap or multichara. 𝐈𝐈. Talkactive, crackhead, and can mingle with other issa +++. 𝐈𝐈𝐈. We don’t accept silent readers, spy, two faces and clone account ( in a wrong way ). 𝐈𝐕. We're looking for active members. So, make sure you're not in rest mode, on hiatus, or intending to leave roleplayer in the near future. If you feel interested to be part of 𝐋'𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄, kindly contact our web www.larose.com . we’re pretty selective, so good luck and see you soon!

ㅤㅤㅤ⊱ ──────ஓ✦ஓ ────── ⊰ㅤ She give the appearance of listening to her thoughts, o trees. Bent over the road she is walking. On a late summer evening, when everyone of her is a steep staircase the night is descending. The leaves like her mother's lips. Forever trembling, unable to decide for there's a bit of wind. And it's like hearing voices or a mouth full of muffled laughter. A huge dark mouth we can all fit in. Suddenly covered by a hand. In the evenings, she's scrape her fingernails clean, hunt through old catalogues for new seed, oil work boots and shears. The garden is no metaphor— more a task that swallows her to herself, earth using as always, everything it can. Not that she's ever thought the philosopher meant to be taken literally, but with no invinted God overhead. She's conjure a stubborm faith in rotting that ripens into soil, in an old corm that flowers steadily each spring not symbols but reassurances, like a mother's voice at bedtome. Reading a long-familiar book, the known words barely listened to. Everything quiet. Light of some other evening strolling ahead. Long-ago evening of long dresses, pointy shoes, silver cigarette cases. Happy heart, what heavy steps she take as hurry after the thickening shadows. The sky above still blue. The nighbirds like a children, who won't come to dinner. Lost children singing to themselves. All the nights of a life each world to the next. 𓏲 ׅ💐🪴𖧧࣪ ִֶָ𓂅 ㅤㅤㅤ ⊱ ──────ஓ✦ஓ ────── ⊰ㅤㅤ