𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀
────────────────────〈 ❀ . 22 . she/her . loc; outside house (front entrance) . mentions; --> . tags; brenna 〉────────────────────
────────────────────〈 ❀ . 22 . she/her . loc; outside house (front entrance) . mentions; --> . tags; brenna 〉────────────────────
- When Morgan glanced around, she realized that some people had their luggage and others did not. Of course, she was one of the unfortunate ones that was stuck dragging her bags up with her. At this point in time, the poor girl could only cross her fingers and hope that nobody was filming this; how utterly embarrassing would that be! On the other hand, though, the weather was cooler than what Morgan was used to, so by the time she managed to pull herself up the stairs, she was confident in saying that her face hadn’t turned a similar shade to a tomato’s skin. If she hadn’t rushed over to the girl in white so quickly, she very possibly would’ve found herself sitting on her rose-gold luggage bag to support her legs. Although she was indeed a bit out of breath, even a few seconds after, she didn’t feel like awfully terrible. As soon as she got some water when she had a second, she’d be okay. Hopefully the backyard is on the same level as the house. The stairs were gorgeous to look at, but ungodly when it came to climbing up them. Her little legs couldn’t handle it more than once.
Her hair was up in a bun, with only a few thin strands of hairs curled around her face to properly frame it. She did, however, brush the baby hairs against the back of her neck, the ones that failed to stay in the bun. She wasn’t sweaty. Thank goodness for that. Peering more closely at the brown-haired girl, Morgan could tell she hadn’t even broken into a sweat. It went along with her assumption that she was possibly a runner. Or, at the very least, had some experience in athletics of some sort. Morgan herself wasn’t a big fan of that. She enjoyed the occasional nature walk, but she was certainly more of a lounger than anything else. Her thin, delicate frame surely confirmed that; she had very little muscle on her person. She hadn’t had the chance to peer around her, but she wondered how much of a variety this show lured in. Were they all successful in some sort of way? Were any of them unemployed with a degree, like herself? Getting started in an arts-based occupation was a challenge, and since Morgan had applied for this show just before graduating, she had yet to thoroughly look for work. Did that make her less suitable, less qualified? Surely her personality would make up for it, right?
The girl with tawny-brown hair who just addressed Morgan was taller than her, by at least five inches or so, but it didn’t feel intimidating. In all fairness, though, Morgan didn’t often feel intimidated by people. Besides, this one in particular wore a bright smile across her features, and Morgan knew she’d like her vibe. In return, Morgan smiled, her dimples highlighting the expression as she connected eyes with the girl. She gave a nod, her thin, silver waterfall earrings dangling against the side of her neck from the action. “I am,” she confirmed, letting her arms lift out by her sides a bit, as if presenting something, which, in her case, would be herself. “Sorry, I don’t know why I asked you that. Your bags are literally right beside you.” She put a palm to her forehead with a smiling laugh, then allowed her hands to clasp behind her back. “And thank you! I made sure to do some shopping before I came here. It’s incredible, the things you can find when you go thrifting.” With two successful parents, Morgan could easily shop at designer-brand stores if she so pleased, assuming she had the right to use their money. She liked thrifting, though; the thrills of it were exuberating.
She raised her arms a moment later, slipping her fingers under her chin to show off her facial features a bit more prominently. “Green eyes for the win,” she chirped. “Although I haven’t found an eyeshadow colour that I love, so if you have any recommendations, do let me know.” She allowed her eyes to linger on Brenna yet again, and the dimpled smile returned. “I think I’m going to like you, Brenna,” she said, then put her index finger up as she corrected herself, “No, I do like you.” She paused for a fleeting second, allowing the delightful summer air to wrap itself around the both of them, then nodded her head towards the outstanding mansion. “Is there an agenda for today, do you know? Or are we just supposed to… be here? I guess I should've done a thorough search or something, I was just too eager to get going to check!”