The Angel Has Woke

The man draped in fine ebony curls had made up for both of their excitement. Literally, She's never witnessed another so happy. Her delicate frame would remain stiff upon the floor, though her teal gaze would stay upon him. Still not liking the fact she can trust no one. Why was he here anyway? It seems as though he just appeared out of know where, she was asleep for merely a few hours, perhaps not even that. How did i get here? Who are you? She had so much to say and it felt like she had such little time. She could see it all then, the beauty he had created. The paintings where one thing, but the flowers crafted neatly within her fur was rather touching. Did you put these in my fur, their beautiful? She'd murmur sweetly, but still rather confused. As she would begin to think, The russet woman would get herself up in a sitting position with a lot of effort taken. She would let out an extremely long [exaggerated] sigh before looking down upon his goofy face, her soft curls bouncing forward.