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We tarried beneath the languid hush of the descending sun, as if the air itself were tinctured with repose and candied light. Murmurous laughter drifted between us, weaving through silver spoons and porcelain reveries, while the last aureate breath of day unfurled its velvet hush upon our shoulders. The table lay strewn with delicate ruins of sweetness sugared petals, crystalline amber, a trace of vanilla’s ghost lingering like a sigh. Sethlore's Pharita, Samniont's Anton, Seretti's Jeongwoo, Romanovna's Jiwoo. Time itself seemed to wane in reverent stillness, loitering beside us as though enamored by our quiet delight. In that hour of gilded aftertaste, nothing demanded haste only the lucent calm of presence, the soft communion of hearts unspoken, and the faint shimmer of contentment that hovered. 🥂🍸ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ