π
Send π to handfeed my muse
Lord Alexander hobbles forward, he did not like raspberries, but he would indulge the old man. He leans in very carefully, lips peeling over massive fangs to snip the little berries out of the old timerβs hands with all the gentleness of a mother croc with her babies.
His face puckered at the sour tartness. Why did this man love these infernal hell fruits so much?
βT-Thank youβ¦β He grunts, reluctantly eating the raspberries.
||π©ΈAcceptingπ©Έ||
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