Blood On Canvas の小説・ストーリー

Besides, I think they're too impatient to do things calmly. "What do you know about this wine called 'Blood of the Wise'?" Judging Orion's expression, there's no doubt, he's willing to tell him everything he wants to know. Ah. The scent of victory.

I say on her couch, looking at her sleepy form, her cheeks were wet from her tears. I'm about to shed a human's blood and paint it on the streets of New York City.

asked Hunter. The pain was unbearable, but I knew what was this, black blood, I have been marked.

Haimon could not attack a blood, and our unborn baby was a blood. "Don't kill us, Adam," I said as gently as I could manage. I sent all my power in that last blast, so I was weak. This was the best I could do. He sniffed the air several times and moved close to my neck, where his mark was. He took in my scent, still growling, and then he bit down on the mark. It was painful at first, but then pleasure washed through me, and I moaned. He pulled me close tightly, pulled on my blood and magic a little, and then released me. I looked at him, and his eyes were normal again. He had tasted my blood and pulled on my magic a little to quiet down his hunger. Adam had tears in his eyes.

“Reminding you of your place. You married into memory. You don’t walk away without consequence.” --- Blood was still dripping from the painting— even though nothing was touching the canvas. Each drop landed neatly on the wooden floor, forming a line. Then a circle. A perfect circle. I didn’t move. I held my breath without meaning to. The painting… it wasn’t just a bloodied altar anymore. In the center, now, was a face. Faint. Mist-like. But I recognized it. That nose. That jawline.

nothing was paint splashed across the canvass and my brush scrubs leaving stains everywhere. My canvas was filled with red jargon, I had drew nothing in particular. I stood looking at it in frustration, I wanted to pull my hair out. What was I doing wrong? “Luella!” My mother screamed from inside, I knew something was wrong. I threw my brush and ran inside the in brisk steps. Now I was standing in the living room with blood dripping from my hands not paint anymore My parents laid on the floor holding hands in a pool of their blood I stood staring in shock, I didn’t know who to run to first

I went to the car to hook up the dashcam. I really had to thank past-me for buying that thing. Even if it didn't capture faces inside the car, it still recorded audio. Freddie stood behind me, while Charles was behind Maeve. This way, no one could run. We found footage from two days ago. Maeve got in wearing that dress, sunglasses, and a mask. Unfortunately, the camera didn't catch her face clearly. As I watched the car tear down the road, my heartbeat matched the speed on the screen.

The groom mounting the bride on a throne of corpses. My hand moved faster than my mind. I dipped the brush deeper, harder, tearing at the canvas like I was cutting flesh. I mixed the reds and blacks until they bled together, thick and viscous. The eyes I painted stared back, wide and lifeless. The flowers were rotting. The sky dripped gore. A massacre. And I smiled. They wanted a masterpiece? I’d give them one they’d never forget.