Free-spirited Woman Mga Nobela at Kwento

His raspy voice hopelessly pleads as little sobs escape from his chest. Staying in place, the Lady is puzzled by this man's action. So she darts her head to the woman in the scene, and then her jaw drops to the ground. The Lady couldn't believe her eyes. No woman could match this heavenly beauty, even though her face is concealed. Goosebumps run into her senses as the Lady becomes speechless, then she notices that the woman is floating. 'Is she a spirit?' The Lady asks herself while biting her tongue. This spirit-like woman's hair was too bright as its hair strand reflects the light--- kin to wilted gold.

Diego couldn’t see her clearly because of the darkness, but she knew who that was. The Spirit was a female with powdered blue skin, long red hair and wore no clothes. Her naked body had stains of purple-black substances that covered her left leg, her right arm and her right eye which made her look even scarier. The Spirit was in shackles from its neck down to its ankles. “What thinking would you be busy with when your life is going to end in a couple of hours?” the Spirit laughed. She looked at Diego with her red eyes. Her black lips stretched into a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of escaping, child…”

He got to piss her off, his aim! The woman deserves every trouble that comes her way, it is a wonder that she didn't land in hell fire while still on earth. The way she carries herself with that air of power and fire, you'd think she is above royalty only that she doesn't act like a royal. Her ethereal aura, the fiery, inflammable, tempestuous woman is the definition of trouble and the type of women he never would want in his life but look at him blackmailed into marrying one like some fucking pussy.

Freya spoke, noticing that she had seen a lot of women and less of men. But maybe it was much better with women because the men she had come across have always been petty and tricky. It could be hard if they were the one to give tasks out. Freya walked up to the middle aged woman and when she got close to her, she put her hands behind her. “Good day, ma’am.” She greeted the woman and the woman stopped reading and looked up at her. Then she removed her glasses. “You're the one, right?” The woman spoke firmly.

My lips looked like a sin someone would beg to commit, and my eyes seemed to hold secrets I wasn't even sure I possessed. I didn't look like Killian Vale's assistant—the woman who jumped when his intercom buzzed, who brought him coffee and organized his schedule and tried to make herself invisible. I didn't look like the girl who flinched at the sound of raised voices or who had trained herself to need nothing from anyone. I looked… free. The realization hit me like a breath I'd been holding for months finally released. This woman in the mirror looked like she made her own decisions, like she knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it. She looked like someone who laughed easily and lo

She carried those leather-bound books like scripture. Who was this woman? I gave her a soft smile and changed the subject. I asked about her thoughts for the ballet event, what theme she had in mind, if she had picked choreographers yet. She answered vaguely, mentioning that she wanted “something fresh,” and “a new take on femininity and resilience.” All buzzwords. No direction. No names. No plans. She was improvising—and I knew it. Still, I had to admire her. Whoever she was, she was clever. She didn’t panic. She didn’t stutter. She played the part with elegance, but to someone who had grown up two houses away from the real Daisy, it was obvious.

That's when I see her. A carefree silhouette. A splash of bright color in the greyness. A woman, dressed in a vivid red coat, arms raised to the sky, spinning in the middle of the deserted square. She's laughing. A clear, frank sound that pierces the rumble of the downpour. Her dark hair, already soaked, sticks to her cheeks, her neck. She looks like a madwoman. Or the freest creature I've ever seen.

“I told you I own everything, even Smith and her colleagues. So if you want this the hard way, I don’t mind it at all. Actually, I enjoy being a little rough with my girls.” The crazy woman said cackling after she cracked her neck right and left and that is when I knew that I needed to fight my way out of it, but looking around me, I found out that I was outnumbered. And even if I managed to escape her, I wouldn’t be able to avoid the rest of those naked women eyeing me as if I was a delicious meal and they were starving. “She said she isn’t interested, big A. So let the girl be and just find your fun somewhere else.”

“Huh! Then send me. There are so many restrictions in this world. I don’t like them at all. It seems like all the rules made here are for controlling women and molding them into some kind of porcelain dolls. I hate this society. Our world in Goredom was much better. Make this world the same, alpha. Free women from this patriarchal slavery.” “You want a man to free women from a system created by men? It’s not in my hands to free women. It’s in their own hands. I can trample the laws that hold them back, but they won’t move forward until they use their own legs to step out of the ancient boundaries that shackles their minds.” She flared her nostril. “I am going to get my plum juice,” she said

"Before you start overthinking, I'm not promiscuous, but I'm not irresponsible either, and I think a prepared woman doesn't go without." "That's not quite how the saying goes." I smiled and took the package from her hand. She surprised me once again, and I liked that, liked being confronted with her femininity, with her desires, her wants. "Yeah, you're definitely not a little girl anymore, you're a woman! A woman who knows how to take care of herself."