Spending the whole Saturday night outside! Today, Morsevic’s Sooin and Foster’s Sooin went on a teeny-tiny girl evening out, just making sure we didn’t let the weekday chaos follow us into the weekend. Keeping good energy only. 🙂‍↕️

We ended up at this ✨hot spot✨ of a street, full of everything like stores, restaurants, dessert places, welp, you name it. Though in the end, we kept it simple, took some photo booth pics, settled into one restaurant for dinner, and had a few drinks while talking about literally everything. 10/10 recommend, honestly. There’s just something different about spending time with people who adore you as much as you adore them.

A chill Sunday will always be the best! Morsevic’s Sooin and Wyrmharrow’s Ni-ki goes out to catch up with each other after being ✨extremely✨ busy with our personal stuff for the past few weeks.

Since we don’t really want to dress up much, we decide that a simple stroll around the city and a quick snack run to the convenience store is more than enough as a little treat, all while talking about everything from A to Z along the street. We also grab a few taiyaki along the way from a street food cart, just the perfect snack to end the day before we have to go back to our usual routine. 🙂‍↕️

Ajarin dong jadi jelek, capek ganteng mulu

🂾 ... Osnora’s Moonlit Benediction: Bearing Witness to the Birthday Omen.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ／(‘CHAPEL OF WITHERED SAINTS.. 1731.) May the luminance emitted by the conical waxen entities atop your celebratory confection resonate with the fervor of a Silent Hill shadow.

In the manner the Elders weave their hexes with patient malice, I beseech the fates that your day be a tapestry of strange delight and whispered fortune, each thread humming with the pulse of long-forgotten triumphs.

May your birthday unfold within a warded circle, untouched by famine or ill wind, where the only thing that multiplies is mirth, and the laughter echoes longer than the bells of the forsaken chapel.

🂾 ... Osnora’s Moonlit Benediction: Bearing Witness to the Birthday Omen.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ／(‘CHAPEL OF WITHERED SAINTS.. 1731.) May the luminance emitted by the conical waxen entities atop your celebratory confection resonate with the fervor of a Silent Hill shadow.

In the manner the Elders weave their hexes with patient malice, I beseech the fates that your day be a tapestry of strange delight and whispered fortune, each thread humming with the pulse of long-forgotten triumphs.

May your birthday unfold within a warded circle, untouched by famine or ill wind, where the only thing that multiplies is mirth, and the laughter echoes longer than the bells of the forsaken chapel.