Little Missy Muffet comes from a peticular family: human from a mother, spider from a father, she knows her nursery rhyme by heart, and arrives at Monster High slowly, carried by the spidery strangeness of her childhood. But the relationship between...
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˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
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The hurricane of this pernicious, incorrigible mechanism, without a single stem or petal of nobility in massive gold and Ra....
Cleo would never have undertaken the unending deviance of her parenthood and sisterhood, one having dotted the other with this olive and titanium claim : modernity at last !
There, they were exhausting the shoulder of their dedicated servitudes, some of which, florescent gifts of their prayers to the sacred kings and queens of the Nile, were only suffering the weight of their ancestry canonized to the rank of...insalubrity ?
Cleo knew, and had become queen of this lesson, at Monster High. That respect was all won and galvanized by the acceptance of communal sources of golds, and calculated waves of mood. But Nefera hadn't had the fortune to be able to read, to understand the memo that prevented certain dynasties from catching a glimpse of the "French Cut".
'' Father ! It's only a low instrument - a breath of filth ! IN WHAT WAY will it propel us further ? ''
Ho...Nefera was about to lower her so prompt disdain by about one celsius disk, below the well-bellied bariton. An acid opera bargain, to find solely comfort in the friendship of this novelty in cold echoes, called "motor".
The jackal-headed servant had barely memorized the principles of the highway's code, but Cleo dreaded that his lack of individuality and conscientious notions would drive him to be more abominable behind the incomplete, spinning sphere. Only Nefera's loss of sentinel glamour could finally convince Father that they could hire a real and ''personnalited'' driver. But no, the De Niles deserved only the approaches and services of their irrefutable wealth. Cleo, at least, had the instinct for unlifing below the zenith... Almost, quite below....
Because Deuce will be.
And when Deuce was, the prerogatives of pharaohs could go marry snakes.
Of course, she wouldn't say a word about it under moon-aged sets. Just... She'd wait until her emotions were legitimate enough before offering a piece of the sun that had shaken the empires of the South.
