Slender fingers lost themselves in the auburn roots, trimmed nails gingerly scratching the scalp of the freshly washed hair, allowing it to fall in mass waves down the little one's back.
The touches faintly seeped against the crown of the head, rewording indulgent chuckles; the resonance of purity echoes into the small cottage, blending pleasingly to the hearing.
" Do you think they'll be pleased with my offering," hesitates the little one, those caresses pacifying, grasping a mass of wave into a delicate bun few strands spill to the side of fluffy cheeks while fingers let a few locks dangle behind the ears. " Answer," a mope took over her cherry lips as the response delayed.
A solicitous fatherly sigh was heard. " Pleased, they're blessed to have your offering,"
Expectant eyes turned to look back at the damsel who knelt beside a wooden stool where the little one had been sitting patiently. " Ah, ah, not yet, Flower," they cautioned.
