[still in her slippers and nightgown, Cecelia emerges from her room early in the morning, plodding downstairs and making a bee line for the kitchen.
there's a hairbrush stuck in a snarl of hair, and it dangles off her shoulder until she comes to a stop in front of the trash bin. from there, still grumbling unintelligibly and with eyes half-open, she begins the process of plucking snarls out of the brush (and bristles out of the snarls!) and flicking them into the trash.
it's a good minute and a half before she blinks slowly, then does a wild (and painful!) double-take to see someone's already in here.]
allura, hair
[still in her slippers and nightgown, Cecelia emerges from her room early in the morning, plodding downstairs and making a bee line for the kitchen.
there's a hairbrush stuck in a snarl of hair, and it dangles off her shoulder until she comes to a stop in front of the trash bin. from there, still grumbling unintelligibly and with eyes half-open, she begins the process of plucking snarls out of the brush (and bristles out of the snarls!) and flicking them into the trash.
it's a good minute and a half before she blinks slowly, then does a wild (and painful!) double-take to see someone's already in here.]
Oh-- [gods.] Uh. Hi. Or...good...morning...