⋊ starfall; sf-a2.
A dim light shining from the towering street lamp that is mere inches away from the android is what aided him to identify the fallen chunk of metal by his feet. The design was childish; the plastic being coated in a cheap silver with multicolored rings around the gun point. Without any type of strong motive, he bends down and picks up the toy as he briefly examines it for a name, or at least a clue to find the youthful owner. Though, while still on the floor, his eyes catch a pair of feet in front of him– a silhouette hidden in the shrouded dusk. Despite only seeing two white boots in front of him, he deduced that this must be the toy’s owner.
He rises up, only to see a familiar rouge mane with that one strand of hair sticking out ridiculously.
what childish taste she has.
“Thi̕s̢ ̕ís͘ ỳo͢úr̴s, right?”