Heavenly White Paint Novels & Stories

"My memory! Almost forgot Adelaide's errand. She asked me to bring a painting to the New Moon Priestess Priscilla for appraisal." "This oil painting," she explained, "is one of Mr. Neil's masterpieces, crafted with multi-layer glazing. The snowy peaks are built with thick titanium white, textured with palette-knife strokes. The sunlight piercing through clouds is painted with transparent golden yellow, creating an amber glow on the canvas." Signaling an omega, she mock-scolded, "You should've reminded me! What if Adelaide blames me?" The crowd gathered as the painting passed from Susan to Priscilla.

Her mentor really DID know his way around a drink! "The part about painting was a wild guess, haha." He laughed at her surprise, "Because people tend to explain things with what they are most familiar with, and you used drawing as a metaphor about showing your soul, so I figured you know your way around a canvas." "Wow, that's cool! And about the drink/painting?" Kitty giggled. "Blue is cold and calm, normally gives a feeling of lonely and sorrow; but white, white is tricky. They way you surrounded white with blue here, is a symbol of safety and peace, and the sweet you put in the white level is the perfect evidence."

I took a glance to see that all the rogues were dead and now my mate was eyeing me in worry as he tried to tear down the ice wall once again to help me. I closed my eyes, concentrating back on the situation at hand. My hands trembled, controlling the extent of power it was radiating. Soon that bastard's hair started glowing white, just like mine. I smirked at my plan working. My smile grew wider when a white light emerged on his chest, stretching out to take all over his body. He grew a little tense now. With every inch the white light moved to cover his body, he grew stiffer. "What... what are you doing Aurora?" He started to panic. "I can't move!" He screamed. I tilted my head, my lips tug

The paint samples were driving me insane. “What’s the difference between Cloud White and Swiss Coffee?” I asked for the third time. Alessandro held them up to the nursery wall. “One is more… white?” “That’s helpful.” “They look the same to me, amore.” “They’re not the same. One has warm undertones, the other is cool.” “Then pick the warm one.” “But what if the cool one looks better with the furniture?” He set down the samples and pulled me against him.

Élianor White. An immaculate, gentle white that wraps around everything. It is the first thing I perceive. An absence of color, of weight, of cold. A diffuse, soothing light. Is this what heaven feels like? I have never truly believed in heaven. Hell, yes I know it well. I have walked through it. But this… this is silent. Warm. There is no smell of mildew, of cold sweat, of damp earth. The air is light. Sterile.

Her hands were pearly white, almost glowing. “Arla, what you are doing is what we call pure, or white, magic,” Elder Albert said in awe. “It is not tied to any one element. You have not been creating lightning as we previously thought, although I’m sure you could. You’re not just controlling one or two of the elements, you have the power of all four.” “You are a white witch,” said Elder Laurel. “My vision showed me you would be powerful, but I didn’t anticipate this.”

I removed them slowly, using an empty wall for support, and then grabbed them in one hand, while continuing to walk around barefoot. My attention was pulled from a painting in a far wall, but I just couldn’t resist the colors mixed in it. I made a few fast silent steps until I was in front of this masterpiece. It was made from my favorite colors--black and white, spilled on the canvas in a magical way, their fight frozen in time for all to admire. It wasn’t a picture of something, it was just paint, covering the white space in a stunning way, hypnotizing you by its peculiar shapes. I loved how the white was invading the space of the black, mixing in places to create many shades of gray.

I want something vivid but not too painful in the eyes to stare at. "What's your favorite color, mate?" I asked her but she just shrugged her shoulder at me. "I don't have a favorite color but I like sky blue," Freya answered me and I just nodded at her. "Okay, can I have ten liters of this paint, please? We'll have the sky blue of this paint." I said to the man assisting us here at the hardware store. "Okay, ten liters of sky blue paint. Do you want to pick up the paint or do you want us to deliver it to your house, sir?" The man asked me and I just shook my head emphatically.

Empty. She picked up a brush. She didn't reach for the black paint. Or the iron. Or the red of the wound. She reached for the white. And the yellow. And a tiny, translucent drop of gold. She started to paint. She didn't paint a fortress. She didn't paint a wall. She painted space. Big, open, terrifying space. Light pouring into a room that had been dark for a long time. It looked like water. It looked like air. It looked like letting go.

“Is that your—” My warm breath caressed her cheek. “Yes. It’s the painting. This is a shaded grey color.” I traced her finger lower. Letting her feel the stroke of the brush, “meeting a darker color of land at night. And when you go up,” our clasped hands trailed up, “it’s the color white of the clear sky. Of purity and clarity.” I opened her palm and lightly trailed all her fingers over the middle part of the painting. Letting her touch all the small little dots, dents and grainy texture.