Through her loose, slightly wrinkled white robe, Fisher could only see her slender calves, while her deeper parts were covered by the shadow of the robe, making it even harder for Fisher's already dazed eyes to capture what exactly lay within...
If one ignored her excessive actions, whether they were meant as punishment or reward, and ignored the teasing and playful smirk on her face, at this moment, bathed in the warm morning light, Helair would surely be the angel that most aligns with the traditional image of a holy angel, right?
Unfortunately, there was no "if" to speak of, and Helair didn't seem to care whether her behavior resembled that of a holy angel from legend.
Her white, tender toes poked at Fisher's chin, and then she retracted her right leg, looking at the misty surroundings behind her, while speaking to Fisher:
