[Souma nods down at her, his expression earnest. He's kind of nervous if she will like it and that shows in the way he stands absolutely still, unmoving, hands curled into the oversized sleeves of his knitted black sweater. It is the sort of stance one uses when trying to creep silently in the forest.
Inside the box is a pair of handmade rose-colored suede gloves lined with soft white rabbit fur for warmth. They are resting atop a white fur capelet and a set of hair combs, each decorated with a little cascade of golden stars hanging from each one. At the bottom there is a sachet of something that smells like coffee, cloves, and oranges, and bottle of liqueur which is pink in color and has flowers inside it.
Souma bites his lower lip and looks up from the gifts to Peace's face. They seem embarrassingly inadequate right now and he's pretty sure this was a shitty idea. Fuck.]
no subject
Inside the box is a pair of handmade rose-colored suede gloves lined with soft white rabbit fur for warmth. They are resting atop a white fur capelet and a set of hair combs, each decorated with a little cascade of golden stars hanging from each one. At the bottom there is a sachet of something that smells like coffee, cloves, and oranges, and bottle of liqueur which is pink in color and has flowers inside it.
Souma bites his lower lip and looks up from the gifts to Peace's face. They seem embarrassingly inadequate right now and he's pretty sure this was a shitty idea. Fuck.]