Pastel Little walks alone, but by her side - a floating orb is a world still glowing in her mind when she runs off to hide. This warm voice - it keeps her safe and guides her in a better way. Delights derived from frights help carve her space and weaves her threads tightly in a playful place. The energy excites, it calms her, and brushes her curls, whispering softly "good babygirl". The world is a dashing fiend, oh can't you tell... overseeing her gifts, meanings, and spells to better teach how to route their way, but ending up giving sweet daydreams to her all day. She's looking at the wall, but hardly looking. She's feeling something and ends up small sooking. If she bought these presents, who could she gift them to? No ulterior motives but to enjoy a trinket and carry it to you.. or to pass it on, alone but ever-expansive.. her heart sensitive and expensive.. her soul marked for second changes.. her tiny toes scrunch in her stockings.. hands wring about future memories forgotten.. if only she could settle into knowing the right next step. Eyes flutter back n' forth now along the stationary and the pens now, squishy breads, and odds n' ends now. Eyelashes drift slowly over all the textures 'til a stir signals the best match. She pulls out a book. The book takes a hook off a latch. Latch catches a pulley systems beyond the dark patch. This Murphy door, it begins to pull and roll. Some sweets on the shelves, they shake. A new world is introduced for her to melt into and take. Bristles run across and through her body with a new electric power - going easy now, weaving ribbons through the hours.

Pastel Little, Pastel Little - Let's play this game again.

Event	Token ID	Price	From	To	Date