She can't seem to find her hairbrush...

She’s done nothing but sleep for the last 7 hours. She needs human interaction.

She hasn’t left her flat in what feels like ages. Is the real world even still out there?

He wants to be not a ghost in 2020?

She could possibly arrange that—but then he wouldn’t be able to be unghosted in his original time. . .

Ah, she thought as much. Perhaps if he grovels, and flirts enough her younger (?) self shall bring him back.

He is quite adept at flirting, if she recalls correctly.

There’s a snort. He’s also a bit cocky, is he not?

He certainly is.

That’s a rather strange saying.

But why—eat them? Why not just—mill them?

Do you remember when you joined Twitter? I do! #MyTwitterAnniversary

Tosses a hairbrush at 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑔𝒶𝓃𝒶 ☽꙳༄ as a greeting.

She’s smiling fondly, and wrapping her little sister in a tight hug. Big squeeze. ❝ Sister. How are you? ❞

It’s fine if she doesn’t wish to, because Morgause has no desire to let her go just yet. ❝ And I’ve missed you, I’m sorry I’ve been gone. How have things been? ❞

She hasn’t left her flat in over 2 years. …she hopes the real world doesn’t exist out there.

Morgause is already planning to come see her sister and attach herself to her for the entire day. This feeling in her chest hasn’t left her since she woke.

Morgause minds not one single bit. She’s clinging to her sister because this day feels like ice has taken over her veins and always leaves her feeling like a phantom. It’s terrible. She’s not letting go of Morgana any time soon.

She wants one.