Brown With Purple Underneath Novels & Stories

He was larger than most, and his coat was a rich shade of chocolate brown. Brown was a very uncommon color for Lycanthrope, we tend to all be the same shade of black, other than myself, of course. But I'm not like other Lycanthrope. I am a True Hybrid – half-Moroi half-Lycanthrope. My coat is of the purest white. Brown only belonged to a certain line of Lycanthrope in Russia, but I hadn't seen any in America. To my surprise, the brown Lycanthrope had successfully ripped open the throat of the Pricolici and was in the process of detaching the rest of the head from the body. I stared mesmerized and in awe.

’ I replied, slipping out the front doors and heading down the stone path to where Olive’s flashy car sat. Olive yawned the minute I slid inside, her plum-colored lips forming thick circle. The bright splash of color matched the streak in her hair, which had gone from lime-green to a deep shade of purple. Even her shadowy eye-makeup had flecks of purple glitter in it, catching the light in a way that showed off her incredible skill.

He didn’t see purple eyes then. Purple…. as in blue, and red….. Eve's eyes have always been red because of the vampire in her blood being stronger than mine. Blue for witch, red for vampire… amber for wolf. No purple present. Purple is new even for a mixed breed. So what does that mean? Vampire and witch? It makes my head hurt trying to think about the why and what it means. I need to speak to Leyanne and figure out why it’s only showing up now.

She gently tilted the face towards her, but what she met with shocked her to the core. He had light brown hair; the colour of whiskey-on-ice which was fitting since even your first encounter with him was enough to find yourself intoxicated. The colour of fallen leaves, browning with the last rains of Autumns, reminding you that this was the end of a season. His eyes were unseeing but remained slightly ajar revealing tiny flecks of hazel intermingled within his grey eyes. The kind of grey that resembled the lead of a pencil, which was fitting because he had that ability to empower you, to help you with your sense of direction and to decipher right from wrong.

NIGHTBANE I inspected the body of the girl. She was young with black curly hair. Her lips were purple and chaffed. This was no plague; it’s a poison. My eyes deepened, and I turned around, searching for something unknown, and then my eyes landed on a jar of rouge. The lid was off and looked like it had only been used twice. I smelt the rouge jar but couldn’t pinpoint the poison. There was another where I found it, but strangely, it didn’t have the same smell as the used one.

“What does that even mean?” “Like warm honey. It’s a golden brown color, but there are blacks and reds mixed in along your back. Your muzzle is brown, but fades into black up to your ears. I think your belly is white, but I would have to have a chance to take a really good look, and we don’t have that kind of time. All the colors seem to blend into your tail. Your eyes didn’t change though. Still my crystal clear blue.” I go to ask another question when we are interrupted.

Her long black hair spread out onto his arms, covering the pillow. Her eyes as she stared into his was that of a very light hazel-brownish. It was such a light brown, that when the sunlight shines on them, they appeared yellowish. His eyes was a lot darker than hers, but in his eyes. He could only see her and that smile she had for him.

Beneath his coat is a jacket with a distinct collar covering his neck, revealing only a brown neckerchief. His patient expression continues to stare at me while I take in his appearance, committing every minute detail to memory, but it’s his eyes that leave me with a sense of unease. His eyes are a deep, dark brown, so dark that under this monolithic structure, they almost appear obsidian. The colour does not disturb me; but instead, their lack of emotion. They're so cold – inhuman even. Two dark, treacherous pools threatening to drown me at any moment.

She could almost see the image. What was startling was that the ink wasn’t black like one normally saw in this kind of design. It was the same brilliant purple as Solomon’s eyes. It looked like a tattoo, but it couldn’t be. Then, of course, there was the issue of this appearing overnight while she slept and she hadn’t felt a thing. And what does this mean... ........

He froze, his mouth dropped open, and his hand flew to his chest. “Oh no. No, no, no!” he gasped, circling me as if I were a piece of art gone wrong. “Brown? This is… this is a crime. Who let this happen? And don’t tell me it was your idea.” He leaned in, squinting at my strands. “It’s not even the right shade! If you had gone chestnut, at least it would’ve warmed your skin tone. Or even a dark caramel, darling, that would’ve been divine. But this…”