If there was one thing the young woman would more than receive all the attention she could get, it was to be pampering. Not that being a little spoiled was bad, in fact she loved it, so much so that whenever it was possible she spoiled herself.But the situation was different, one thing was she wanted to express to everyone at a party that she was engaged and wish ed the support and celebration of all. That was totally different from her just not being engaged and not wanting all that "affection" they were offering.Being in the midst of those women was beginning to become suffocating, Artemisia desired with the depth of her heart so that, mysteriously and heroically, Geon would take her out of that nest of snakes.From the corner of her eye the girl could see the young lady who had announced the pregnancy in the last afternoon tea in which Artemísia was present. She felt a little sorry for the woman being alone at the table, as apparently her husband was one of the gossips who pull
Geon couldn't take his eyes off the girl who was sitting in front of him. Artemisia was so dazzling that the demon risked saying that the young woman was a reincarnation of the stars, or even the Moon itself. The dress she wore only made her even more beautiful, her pale skin was even more prominent and the blue eyes the young woman had were now totally left out.The demon had also made an illusion in her eyes, so no one who looked at that ice blue immensity would see a normal iris and pupil. But Geon didn't believe they'd notice that, at least not just that.When the men had pulled him into the demon to tell them how and why he had asked her to marry him, Geon understood perfectly why Artemisia hated being around those people."You know her story, right?" one of the men had asked as he held a glass of whiskey in Geon's direction, which shook his head negatively. "I knew it! Just so that for that woman to get a husband!"Geon raised an eyebrow and was bombarded with mistold gossip a
There was something wrong in the room. Again.The smell of nature almost intoxicated her, she could hear the sound of plants climbing through the walls, the bed and even her. Artemysia felt everything, every movement and grip. The young woman had that same nightmare before, she remembered that.Artemisia had spent the first weeks of spring being plagued by ivy and belladonna. Remembering vaguely that made the nightmare worse.There were no windows, at least none in complete that prevented the icy air from reaching her. The ivies did a great job covering every inch of the walls, where the plants did not touch Artemisia could see worn and broken pillars, plus pieces of iron and a rusty door.The belladonna appeared staining that green carpet, they were also there so that the young woman would not think straight. With every breeze, that the girl wasn't sure where she was coming from, the smell intoxicated her like it was cyanide. She tried to stay awake inside that nightmare, but the gir
Artemisia woke up and stood up quickly. There was a strangled scream, desperate to get out, but it wouldn't come out. The girl didn't understand why, but she was desperate to think.That scream hurt, it made her flesh, skin and chest bones hurt, her throat was worse off and there was no solution to it.She didn't want to wait any longer for the scream to just come out, when the girl realized she was scratching her own neck as she let out painful, tearful noises. Tears rolled down her cheeks as if they had just come out of a kettle, they were warm and left a damn mark as they passed.Artemisia tried to find in the pain something that would release that wretched scream, but there was nothing to make him fall. The despair didn't wait either, she didn't wait for the tears to stop or for the noises to cease and then the young woman could breathe. No, obviously it wouldn't wait.Despair began to run through her veins, rising through each fiber, through the layers of skin, flesh, fat. He
When the young woman's eyes opened, there was an old feeling stuck next to her on the bed. The strange feeling of living something new, but it seemed that she was not prepared to find out, on her own, what it was. Anyway, Artemisia realized as soon as the body woke up that she had slept more than expected. The clock was already ticking twelve times and there was a wonderful smell of food. It was strange to be standing so late, even if the young woman were to do nothing but paint in the mornings, it was good to enjoy the first few morning hours. Not that the young woman was someone from the mornings, quite the opposite. When she was still living with her mother in the Noctavia's mansion, the girl made a point of getting up as late as she could. Often the mother would take Artemisia's older sisters out to lunch, obviously before the two of them got married. The girl was left in the mansion. She once asked Francesca why they did not take her to lunch too, but her mother kept rambling a
There was a story, more like a folk song, that talked about a couple in love. So, so passionate that they took the whole story about "not that death do us part" seriously. Poor. Artemisia and the boy went to the garden, walked to that nucleus of life and observed that natural beauty. The girl wondered if Monet could paint such beauty. But then she realized, where did the girl know Monet from? Kim radiated a sense of calm, but it felt like a storm was going on in those 150 centimeters of distance between them. In any case, Artemisia still felt that there was something wrong. She tried to find looking at the blurry landscape of trees and horizon, looked in the flowers that were colorful and monochromatic at the same time. She searched, even though she was standing in the middle of the garden. The young woman turned her face to Kim, hoping somehow that he would also feel that there was something strange about that place. It all looked so perfect, beautiful and the way that... That sh
By the end of that afternoon that the young woman spent with Lord Kim, the flowers seemed to have lost their luster, the scent of them had become so subtle that Artemisia no longer felt that freshness of the garden. But she tried not to talk too much about it. Artemisia entered the mansion through the dispensary door, not remembering how, but knew those corridors that made the house's skeleton. A shelter for kittens who were left homeless during storms and winters. ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ The girl walked as if she was already part of all that construction, there was something that called her into the buildings. Deeper and deeper into the mansion, digging that huge pit in the hill. Music played softly through the skeleton of the mansion, guiding the girl further and further into that dream. They were piano notes, crying beautifully over that place. The notes told a story, decadent and horrible story. But even though she was clear as a candle, Artemisia did not understand what she
The girl walked the hallways, the ones that were known to everyone in the mansion, from the residents to the employees. Those corridors that seemed more part of the house's surface, the ones that were easily accessible. You did not have to be very adventurous to find them, not least because they were obvious paths to any room. She walked according to the instructions Helga had given her. It was something about where the shelves would be, which books to jump and which to hide. To be honest, Artemisia understood very little of what the maid was saying, but either way, the girl still decided she would follow those instructions. Things still seemed wrong and time was proving to be the biggest mistake of that situation. "There is a beautiful path of hydrangeas painted on the wall that will guide the way." Artemisia wanted to close her eyes when she heard Helga's soft voice sound like music in the girl's mind. She soon realized that in the second hallway near the first-floor guest ro