‍ ‍ ‍ the 𝐭ragedy of 𝐦iss 𝐛lair.ᐟ

offering a hint of a smile. “hello. i-i like your. . . horns.”

admiring the man with the horns. she thinks the horns are neat.

/ loki my beloved…. let me just cry rq

“o-oh.” now she looks down at her hands, embarrassed. cheeks go pink with the emotion which floods rather rapidly into her features. “i can’t quite. . . go home, anymore, i’m afraid.”

o-oh. it’s you! hello. ( nervous laughter. )

what, may i ask, is an ultron?

/ hiiii

* 👁️👁️ who is THAT?

gingerly the brunette woman takes a seat, feeling rather out of place and probably looking like it, too. her hands fold in her lap. “i’m nobody special - just evelyn. i’m a long way from home.”

/ give me an ultron to write with… they could have iconic banter i feel

she looks rather lost. tired eyes seek sympathy from the other as her palms lift - an expression, it seems, of innocence. “n-no. i know i’m not supposed to be here. it’s an accident.”