Novel & Cerita Clara Afton Fanart

"Lena, why were you asking about this?" "Clara, if you had her photo, could you send it to me?" The whole Westfell knew that Hunter had an unforgettable crush who had passed away. If he could find someone similar to his unforgettable crush, would he be a little happier? Although she knew that Hunter himself was not so tacky, since he had already accepted the blind date arrangement from the old man, could he now also accept a substitute? Clara searched everywhere and finally found a photo of the Miss Wright from the Wright family, and then she gave Lena a reminder.

The same Aria from the club Clara's friend.

Then offered her the paper he’d been colouring. It was a stick-figure drawing of the three of us, standing under a big yellow sun. He’d written “I LOVE AUNT CLARA” in crooked block letters at the bottom. Clara took it with a trembling smile and hugged him tightly. “This is great, Kid. Good work.” “I'll make you a special one,” he said. “I'll be sure to keep it.” “I’m gonna miss you,” he said quietly into her shoulder. “I’ll miss you too, sweet pea. Come on guys, we don't have to do all the sentimentalities now. We still have time.”

Elena Torres (POV) After long hours of crafting, painting, drawing and discarding, I finally decided to take a break, Clara's birthday would be in a few days and I'm trying to gift her with a portrait of herself. I was really hoping that she would like it, plus have been trying to put up some artwork in each corner of the house. Probably at night while everyone was still asleep because I would be embarrassed if I was caught in the art. I'm not sure if I draw so well since I never practiced.

“If you're in the middle of the woods, maybe you could use a little entertainment. - Thanks. I paid a deck of cards and Clara threw a flyer about shifters into the bag. “A lot of it is New Age code. She pointed a gnarled finger at the howling wolf and full moon on the cloak. “But if you want good general information about shapeshifters, it's a good place to start. - Thanks. - You are welcome. I just hope what I said didn't confuse you even more. — Confused me? Clara's gentle eyes met mine.

The room was what she’d expected. The committee sitting behind a long table. Documents in front of them. The kind of room that made proposals feel small until you remembered what the proposal was for and then the room was the thing that felt insufficient. She stood at the front. Behind her a screen with the proposal. The drawings. The building elevation. The plans. And the photograph. Clara’s photograph. The one from the documents. Thirty years old. Clara at twenty something in Edinburgh. She’d put it in the presentation in March and had almost taken it out a dozen times and had left it in because it was the reason.

—- Across the city, inside a dark apartment, Clara stared at Elena’s pictures on F******k with burning eyes. Then she smiled dangerously. “Enjoy him while you can, the battle has just begun.”

Beneath it, written in elegant script: I found your sketchbook in the infirmary. You left it by my bed. Your art is better than you think. Come find me when you're done with your duties. I'll be waiting. — M Clara's breath caught. She'd been drawing Morwen in her sketchbook for weeks, ever since the academy had fallen into chaos. It had been a way to cope, a way to hold onto something beautiful in the midst of everything terrible. She hadn't realized anyone had seen.

“We use the wealth to do good—to help your mother’s foundation, to make sure you and Clara have the best education. But we hold the legacy—the integrity, the compassion, the fight for what’s right—in our hearts. That’s the part you can never sell or lose.” Clara stirred on the sofa, sensing the shift in the room's energy. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and spotted the history book. “Ooh, old Papa Arthur’s boring book!” she exclaimed, scrambling off the cushions. She toddled over and picked up a brightly colored crayon from the coffee table, drawing a massive, cheerful orange heart right over the stern portrait of the original founder on the front cover. “There,” Clara announced, presenting th

"Nobody touches my pureborn friends and lives to see the morning sun!" ​"Calm down right now, Frostina," Bettoni ordered with a firm, authoritative voice, then turned her warm brown eyes back to Clara, comforting the girl gently. "I need you to tell me what happened, Clara. I promise you I'll make sure we get to the bottom of this nightmare. What'd he look like?" ​"It was dark, Commandress," Clara cried softly, gripping her torn silk blanket tightly. "He grabbed me from behind. I couldn't see his face at all. But he was very tall. He wore rough linen clothing, and smelled strongly of old parchment paper and dark ink."