Contoh Nail Art Marble Novels & Stories

Carefully, Ciara walked into the kitchen and stared at the countertop’s surface. “Can... can I touch it?” she asked, looking at Scott with hope in her eyes. Of course, her request puzzled him. “Sure, why not?” he replied, still wearing a questioning expression. Her fingers trembled as she touched the smooth, glossy marble. It felt different from the rough or metallic surfaces she had always touched before. This material felt more alive, with pale brown veins that made it imperfect, and that’s what made it beautiful. “You... have you never seen marble before?” Scott asked cautiously.

"This floor is not exactly the best place to get a good night's sleep." “I can tell,” I scoffed and watched her entranced by the delicate spider web between her fingers. Her nails were long and adorned with shimmery nail art, perfectly manicured and polished. She seemed mesmerized by the spiderweb, her eyes flickering around the intricate pattern as if she was looking for something hidden within.

I was confused. “The pain you felt earlier was because the marble marking process was complete. There’s a mark on your neck. There should another one one your chest too, where your heart is.” Raven explained. As he explained, I peeked into my top to check the mark and at the same time Ria also checked my neck. The mark was really there. Although the mark was very faint, it was still visible. It was a small circular glowing blue mark. “I don’t see it.” Ria said, still checking for the mark.

A massive free-standing tub of hand-carved white marble sat elevated on a low dais near the arched windows, filled to the brim with warm, sapphire-tinted water. ​Maya leaned back against the smooth marble rim, her dark hair pinned loosely at the crown of her head, though soft strands had escaped to cling to her damp, flushed neck. Her amber eyes were half-lidded, heavy with the quiet exhaustion of a night spent dodging bullets and interrogating mercenaries.

They worked with gentle, practiced hands, meticulously wiping away the shadows of exhaustion, the dark circles from nights of crying, and the dull, dry ache that had lingered on my skin since my father fell ill. Next came my hands and nails. I sat in a plush velvet armchair while a manicurist buffed away the ink stains on my fingers—remnants of long nights spent drawing fashion sketches at my tiny desk. She shaped my nails into elegant, almond-shaped crescents, painting them with a subtle, translucent shade of rose quartz that made my fingers look long, delicate, and aristocratically pale. Then came my hair.

Ibhaan’s Head: Arin has developed an obsession with lavender, jasmine, and orchids recently. She has grown a bit bolder and more aggressive. Almost all of her products—from shampoo, to shower gel, and bathrobes—every single merchandise have a shade of variety. There are twelve shades of nail paints all lavenders amongst the pool of many. Her cosmetic collection is ready to give others Luna’s complex. I don’t have the heart to walk in her closet. I prefer the wardrobe collection to remain a mystery.

“Great. I spent a minor fortune on that one. Let me see it.” Neith skipped off toward the counter and disappeared behind it. After a while, she popped up from behind, coughing and covered in dust. She slammed a polished wooden box down on the counter, with Dusty’s Miracle Marbles intricately written in gold on the lid. “Here you go. Personalized miracle marble made by the famous Penelope Dusty herself.” Holly gingerly lifted the edges of the box, revealing four multi-colored orbs within. The glow of the marbles hit Hollys face. "Oh, great! Thank you, Neith. This is perfect and exactly how I want it.”

My intention was to give Isla the spectrum of light, not just the endless void of her chosen darkness. On a makeshift workbench, I laid out the tabletop samples. The elegant honed-white marble, then a really dramatic dark darker quartz gray with its white veining. This was the first nod to her. The last was more dramatic and the one I preferred. The marble was a true dark purplish, it was nearly black with a tiny bit of near gray veining. I stood back, arms crossed, letting the silence of the construction site settle the tension in my chest. A shadow fell across the floor.

Nina grinned mischievously, but then granted me the favor of changing the subject. “I’ve been coming here once a week lately, usually with a few other girls from work. These ladies are the best of the best. I mean, come on. This is true artistry.” She held her freshly polished fingers out in front of her, admiring the glossy hot pink polish that exactly matched her current hair color. A piece of heart-shaped gold foil was pressed carefully into the center of each nail. The two manicurists, still not looking up from their work, both smiled shyly.

, he asked. “This ripe cherry one looks nice”, I said while handing him the nail polish from the hamper. The polish colors are dark red, almost like coagulated blood. I always love these kinds of colors, because I always like something a little gothic. Then I grab the rose massage oil, a pack of rose-shaped candles, and the loofah.