"I was hoping this time it would work." Geon said as the shadows danced around the fireplace. Artemisia looked at the demon with a raised eyebrow, it was not impressive to the young woman that it had happened more times than she would have liked—that at the moment, within the will of the young woman, the amount of times her soul could possess people and kill the owners of the bodies was faithfully clinging to zero—but it was still a little curious to think that perhaps that possession had been the one that had worked out the best. Even if it was a slightly vague definition of what "getting it right" is. If Helleborus hoped to have one more chance at life, run through green fields in the spring, and remain reclusive in the arms of a loving family during the winter, Artemisia felt a little sad to give her the bad answer about the woman's choices. "What happened to the other times?" Artemisia asked as she shrunk her legs until she could hug them. The cold was beginning to affect the
The rest of the day Artemisia remained only immersed in her own thoughts, especially after discovering that one of the culprits of her current state is dead. The young woman really wanted to feel guilty for killing someone. Well, she felt guilty, but for that particular someone, Artemisia couldn't feel any twinges of kindness or empathy. An old subject? Yes, but the pain did not age, it renewed itself again and again, remaining fresh. It was only because the young woman couldn't feel guilty for killing the woman, she was still trying to figure out how the hell she had done that, since it was supposed to be for Hyacinth to be immortal, from earth to earth, being in a vicious circle of life.As she pulled the covers so she could warm herself from the cold that was beginning to stick to Artemisia's bones, she could feel that there was so much more to it. How would she kill such an old being, when even Death herself couldn't do that? Artemisia didn't know much of that world she had been
To the young woman's surprise, that point of darkness at the botanical fair was not a stall, in fact it was the façade of a flower shop. It didn't look like a flower shop, the dark colors and faded designs gave the impression that this shop was abandoned or that it was an old tallow, which was shattering over time. Artemisia stood for a good few minutes admiring that black blur in the midst of so much light and color. The storefront somehow reminded the young woman of herself, perhaps for the colors and the more old-fashioned style. "Maybe because you don't belong there." Again, those voices spoke deep in the young woman's mind, teasing her to make something happen. Something she had no idea what it might be, but given the illusions, or events, that had intensified morbidly over the past two days. Either way, she decided to ignore that voice, just as she had been doing since the second time she heard it — or at least trying to ignore it. "Don't be offended by witches," a female
Artemisia leaned her body against the chair entirely, the truth hurting more than she could have imagined. She could tell that the stages of grief hit her too fast, so the young woman was already in anger. An outsized hatred of herself. Artemisia knew it was deadly, she saw her father die, the nannies die, the plants, the animals. It was clear as the day that it was her curse, but knowing it was so painful that it made the young woman want to vomit up all the sweets she had eaten. Suddenly something hit her too, a memory that involved stories. It was almost like a blur, but if Artemisia tried hard, she could understand that it had been a dream, a strange and a little disjointed dream. In it were three books, each of which bore a strange memory of the young woman. The first was a debt, of this she remembered better than the others, the second was pure pain, the same pain she had felt when Leonore opened that book of leather red as blood. The young woman raised her face looking towa
Her parents didn't know her anymore. There weren't many people who had that bad luck, so the girl expected it to be like that anyway. Her parents, her sisters, her closest cousins, they didn't know her. Not a little bit, nothing about her. What could the girl do? There was nothing interesting to know. — On that night, when the Moon is present and when the stars carry their light, we are here to unite this couple who have been united by the Spirits of Love! She looked forward to the white marble altar decorated with a beautiful wine carpet and beautiful red carnations. A sigh came out silently from her lips as she passed the gloved fingertip over the lace of the dress. — Since the sun was present and the Moon became mother and guardian, we have all been blessed and embraced by your light and warmth! — the hand wrinkled by the priestess's age raised a crystal cup containing the red liquid of the ceremony. The butterflies surrounded the altar, doing a beautiful dance o
Artemísia woke up again in that damn room. The walls were covered with ivy and they were moving higher, the curtains were the same as when i was awake and the only thing that differentiated was that there were only ivys, windows, curtains and the bed where Artemisia was lying. The strong smell of beladona almost intoxicated her, it was as if she was chewing on one of its poisonous fruits and enjoying her pre-mortem moment. The girl closed her eyes and put her hand on her chest feeling the fabric of the sweater she wore hours before, lace and sweat that tickled her fingers whenever she wore. She began to imagine pink butterflies or some other flower appearing in the room, wanted to be able to visualize in her mind small fairies, but the girl knew she did not have enough imagination for that. It's not like she expected much of her own dream, close to her sisters, Artemisia looked like a hollow shell. No enough talent or imagination to create your own talent, depending on the garden to
There was no other dream after Artemisia returned to sleep, only the warm and silent darkness. In the morning he woke up with a crow pecking at the window, making the annoying sound echo through the room. With a lot of name-calling, taken directly from a tavern, the girl opened the damn window and cursed further when the animal flew away. Sighing irritated, the blonde began to take off her sweater and underwear. He didn't care much if some maid was going to show up, which was commonly happening. In the first week the girl was uncomfortable and curious as to why the maids always came into the room in the morning, sometimes Artemisia just wanted to get naked watching the sunrise. But it didn't take long to figure out it was a mansion rule. The girl didn't ask much about the rule, as her great aunt had been found in the morning. Maybe she'd be dead too. After a cold and time-consuming bath, a good makeup to hide how terrible it was, Artemisia came down to the kitchen praying that t
Artemisia only stopped walking when the clock struck 12 times, obviously scaring her. The body hurt a little and asked for food, rest and maybe some sun. However, without employees there was no food and after the eleventh stroke she remembered that she was trying to understand why she was alone in the mansion. I couldn't call the police, because being without employees wasn't an emergency, at least they'd laugh at it and for two weeks it would become the joke of afternoon teas. She passed her hand on her little face caring if the powder came out a little or not, just closed her eyes for a few seconds and sat on the first steps of the stairs. In a few hours looking for someone, alive preferably, only showed that Artemisia was nothing more than a prey. Well, he liked that. The blonde's eyes quickly opened with thought. She had barely made a month of her move and was already starting to go crazy. Who the hell was he? — I give up — Artemisia stood up and put her hands on her hips —