[The tiara -- or rather, the ghost that is haunting the tiara -- senses that her tea party is about to go in a displeasing direction. The glimmer winks out suddenly, unnaturally, the pink jewels darkening in a way that looks weirdly malevolent for transparent plastic. Then, a voice. It sounds far away at first, but as it grows in volume, it becomes clear that it's coming from the silly crown. "Play with me," it chants over and over, the voice deepening from a child's light pitch to something low and growling and nasty.]
Because someone who has been stuck in a tiara for quite some time deserves. To be. A princessssss.
[Break makes one of those unhinged smiles that says "do it or I'll kill you".]
no subject
Because someone who has been stuck in a tiara for quite some time deserves. To be. A princessssss.
[Break makes one of those unhinged smiles that says "do it or I'll kill you".]