Cirilla Novels & Stories

Not rushed. Clara’s voice hissed through Lucien’s earpiece. “I’ve tapped into the satellite feed. Ivy… there’s a symbol on the intruder’s vehicle.” “Show me.” The hologram projected between us as we crouched beneath the observation deck. A circle of glass. A single letter etched inside: V I stopped breathing. Lucien whispered, “What is it?” I didn’t answer. Because I knew. Virella. The name had only been whispered in deep parts of the Crucible files. Not an organization. Not a person. A concept.

POV: Lila (primary), Echoform (ambient stillness), Saela (memory carrier), Elora (soft transcription), Kehra (tone-matching), Maximus (rooted alignment), Nareth (boundary weaver), Vathil (submerged consent), Lila I opened the day with no gesture. No rubble. No thread. No breathnote. merely presence. My wrist was bare the thread folded itself onto the edge of my cot overnight. Not dropped. Rested.

--- 8:46 PM – Penthouse, Living Room The news played softly in the background. Reports of rebuilding in the adjacent province. Elira's laptop was open, transferring data from field reports. Caelan sat next to her, drawing a quick logo concept on paper: a spiral that curled out but never stopped. "See that?" she asked. "Continuity emblem," he replied. "Not final. Just a concept." Elira ran a line across the page with her finger. "It's round, but not sealed." "Exactly. It adjusts," he said. "Like we're attempting to."

Jackson looked drained of life essence and suddenly picked vegetables to be an interesting subject of observation. "Stop, the cavities might kill me," Maria whined with a red face, "I suppose that's a valid compliment, Pikachu." "Uh, Pikachu?" Jackson asked with a pout, "of all things, a Pokémon specie?" "Well, you're adorable, aren't you?" Maria made bunny ears with her index and middle fingers, "pika-pika." Jackson would settle for cute. No one had ever called him cute. It rang in his head like a band of drums and his heartbeat accelerated.

The women torched my soul. Drace got herself under control. "Let's see, there are the golden standards of pussy, cunt, hooha, vajayjay, and vagina-or vag. Then we move into the odd vegetable, fruit, or flower garden-themed section. Flower, lady garden, garden of Venus, sin flower, just a regular garden, rosebud, French withered pear, banana basket, bean, cherry, peaches and cream, honey pot, raspberry cave, the peach, apple pie." My mouth had dropped open in the middle of her list. Did she memorize all of these? Have a mental file for them?

And the color of my skin never hides when I blush so it's always hard. "What's your name?" Now he stood right beside me leaning on the basin and looking down at me. Okay, how the hell was he this tall? I looked like a minor in front of him. This was so unfair. And not to forget his deep baritone voice. It was so smooth just like butter. Ew Arabella really? "Arabella" I replied. He hummed before folding his hands and damn I almost swooned. I accidentally glanced at the tattoo on the back of his left shoulder. It had wings and it between were two initials.

Lira Jax reached behind and grabbed an ice cube from a cup he'd prepared earlier. Then he pressed it to my clit without warning. I gasped. My hips buckled from the cold against the heat of his fingers. It was overwhelming, confusing, perfect. His thumb circled my clit as the ice melted. Cold water ran down. I came hard, biting my lip to keep from screaming. My body shook against him. I trembled from the orgasm, from the cold, from everything. His shirt was open from me pulling at it. I saw the tattoo on his chest. Bold letters spelled "LIRA" right over his heart.

(Can someone explain what a letter is? I had already gotten used to this lady's method so I made sure to study ahead of time. As usual, I acted like I didn't know the answer and waited for someone to attempt the question. It would be odd if I was always the only one answering questions in class. I didn't want it to seem like I was trying to show off. Thankfully, someone decided to take the spotlight that day. It was a guy named Ivan. "Une lettre est un moyen de communication qui se présente sous forme d'écriture. Une lettre peut être écrite à n'importe quelle fin, quelle soit officiel ou non."

12: damaged people attract damaged people. × Love- Love is crazy. Because there's hardly any difference. × Juliet Robert's crazy was coincidentally playing as he looked out of the bus with a fatigued smile. Both their excitement grew as he finally crossed into Zurich- 'Katharina'

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