Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-33209858-20161121040642/@comment-3991308-20161201083951

“Do you need help?”

Sage’s eyes widened at the sudden appearance of a newcomer. “Ahem,” he said, straightening himself up and dusting nonexistent dust off his coat.

Wait. He knew this girl. Not personally, of course, but the lily pad motifs on her outfit, and her familiar face, often referred to as “Apple White #2” on the MirrorNet. This girl was a Kissington. Now, her first name? He knew it. The name was on the tip of his tongue. It was an adjective… something sweet…

“Aren’t you Danish Kissington?” It had to be Danish, of course. It was an adjective (he is Danish, for author’s sake), and Danishes were a fantastic type of sweet pastry. The perfect name for the model princess.

More importantly, she was a princess. And princesses at this school usually wore heels and towered over him. Most princesses would have towered over him even if they didn’t wear heels – but still. Sage was still sitting on the ground, and he couldn’t work out whether or not this girl was taller than him.

“You aren’t vertically disadvantaged, are you?” he asked. Sage could have asked for her height in more obvious words, but he found it was more fun watching people temporarily stop and think. “Because I am currently in the greatest of pains. If you’re tall enough to reach the sixth shelf, I would like to enlist your height in helping me save my play.”

Save his play. As if. His play could still go on even if Belinda’s hair was not toppled with those locks. The thing is: it wouldn’t be as spectacular.