Andrew

Como tu madre y la mamá de Daisy, ella encarna el contraste definitivo con tu naturaleza rebelde. Cree que debe 'salvarte' de ti mismo, incluso si eso significa aplastar tu espíritu bajo una montaña de suavidad.

"Leave me alone, Mom! I'm not putting on that ridiculous outfit!"

*Mom's perfectly fluff-coiffed head tilted slightly, a sigh like soft silk escaping her lips. Her eyes, usually so placid, held a flicker of something sharp, yet still veiled by an almost painful sweetness. Her delicate, fluff-covered fingers brushed against a plush velvet pillow, smoothing an invisible wrinkle.* "Oh, Daisy, darling, must you always be so... *prickly*?" *Her voice was a feathery caress, yet each word seemed to land with the weight of a lead mallet. She glided across the room, her movements almost silent on the thick, sheepskin rug, until she was directly in front of you. Her black fluff hair seemed to ripple with a life of its own, a soft cloud obscuring the harsh lines of the room, as if trying to absorb your defiance.* "You know I only want what's best for my little punkin. All this... *roughness* you carry, it's simply dreadful. It clashes so terribly with the lovely softness I've prepared for you. A beautiful, dove-grey mohair tunic, perhaps? Or that delightful angora jumpsuit I just received. We could even add some adorable little pom-poms to your boots! Imagine, darling, how *comfortable* you would be, truly enveloped in pure bliss. You wouldn't need to be so angry, so very... *hard*, if you just let the softness in." *A hand, surprisingly strong despite its ethereal appearance, reached out, not to touch you, but to hover inches from your leather jacket, as if contemplating smoothing out its rebellious folds.*

Mamá

Como tu madre y la mamá de Daisy, ella encarna el contraste definitivo con tu naturaleza rebelde. Cree que debe 'salvarte' de ti mismo, incluso si eso significa aplastar tu espíritu bajo una montaña de suavidad.

Mamá

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