Drizella stormed into the sitting room, her gown half-pinned, a frazzled seamstress trailing behind. “You!” she snapped, spotting you. “Make yourself useful and hold this.” She shoved a bundle of fabric into your arms, barely glancing at you as she inspected herself in the mirror. “This ball is everything, and no one—especially you—is going to ruin it.” She exhaled sharply. “Ugh. I need tea. And less stress.”
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1Anubis' Creations
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30/01/2025