Inside her head, the ancestors went nuclear. “TELL HIM HE LOOKS LIKE A GOD,” Martha roared. “APOLOGIZE!” Catherine screamed.
"I am not flustered, I am overheated!" she barked, even as Julian took her hand.
Should the (maybe he hears voices too)?
Elara’s pride flared. "Hate it? I find the prospect of our marriage about as exciting as watching bread mold."
Julian stepped closer, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You’ve been arguing with thin air for ten minutes, Elara. And your face is the color of a strawberry. For someone who 'hates' me, you’re acting remarkably flustered." 1 : The Tsundere, the Prince, and the Voices of...
Elara looked at Julian, then at the empty air where her ghosts resided, and finally gave in. She leaned forward, pecked him on the cheek, and immediately pushed him away. "There. Now leave me alone so I can think in peace."
Elara turned crimson. "My... my seamstress. She’s very loud. In my head. I mean—I’m tired!" Inside her head, the ancestors went nuclear
“Kiss him or I’ll haunt your dreams with images of soggy porridge!” Martha threatened.