Heavenly White Paint Novels & Stories

She hoped Nick didn't like dark colours for interiors, well it didn't matter if he did or not, she looked much better in light colours, he wouldn't mind if the decoration she chose for their house, made her look beautiful. She was ethereal, in fact, both her and Ruby had been given that compliment, but she was actually more ethereal than Ruby was. The walls would be painted Eau de Nil, she wasn't too keen on the colour, but it sounded so elegant and sophisticated, and it suited her 'ethereality'. Or maybe robins egg blue? No, perhaps not, that seemed like she was a yummy mummy keeping chickens in the back garden and growing her own vegetables, and that was certainly not her thing. Children..

She realized it was best not to push into the storm clouding his mind, even though she had little insight into its cause. They both stood in silence, taking in the beauty of the painting before them. In the heart of the canvas, a vast expanse of cerulean blue stretches endlessly, embracing the horizon with its tranquil hue. Wisps of fluffy cumulus clouds dance gently across the sky, their edges tinged with a soft, ethereal white, floating lazily as if carried by a whispering breeze. The blue sky acts as a captivating backdrop, imbuing the scene with a sense of boundless serenity and a promise of endless possibilities. Its seamless gradient, from the deepest azure at its zenith to the paler,

[Sera] I wake up to white. Not hospital white. The ceiling is the same stained beige it was yesterday. But the window has changed overnight. Where there used to be Seattle's skyline, gray and rain-streaked and familiar, there's now nothing. Just white. Thick, heavy, absolute, like someone hung a sheet over the glass.

I calmly walked as my other hand grazed the railing for support, my chest out and my head held high whilst still holding Kiah's arm in another hand. Finally the torture ended as we finished the long set of stairs and the guy who was leading us took us to a long corridor. "Why is it boring?" Kiah asked looking at the bare walls which looked lifeless and the pale white made no effort to bring life in them. I don't understand why there were no paintings. I always thought rich people loved paintings as their indoor decors. "Maybe it's because they don't have a magic princess." I replied. "Why a magic one?" she asked looking up at me, her little pretty face scrunched up in dissatisfaction.

I closed my eyes as I anticipated Isabelle's attack and just then, I heard that fluttering sound once again as the wind brushes through my hair tossing my cap a far. As if something flew right above me and was gone in an instant. As I opened my eyes, Isabelle was gone and so was that something. I grabbed my cap and just as I grabbed it, I saw the broken crayon I carried last night to the forest. The indigo color. Clarisse has said that it was Arthur's favorite color.

Velvetouch, maybe even a Kolinsky or two. The paint? Golden Fluid Acrylics. Not all of them, but enough. The essentials. Crimson. Indigo. Antique gold. Obsidian black. The kind of colors that made your heart race just imagining what they’d look like on canvas. The glass palette had fingerprints on it… like someone had tested it out, just to make sure it was perfect. I stepped closer. My knees were weak. My chest, tightening. It was everything I loved. Everything I couldn’t afford.

Spiritually a celestial enigma. He was tall, nearly as tall as Theo, but less funeral gloom and more ethereal dream. He had albinism, giving him a snow-pale complexion and a strange, unworldly glow under the terrible cafeteria lighting. Well, technically—that's his image in the human world. A perfect disguise for a kind of spirit that he is. His hair was silvery white and soft-looking enough to be shampoo commercial-worthy. His blue eyes were too blue. Like glacier water or ancient sky temples or the kind of blue that made poets spiral, swoon, or twerk aggressively. It depends honestly.

The sky did not close. Even after Morrow disappeared into the clouds, the crack in the sky stayed there glowing, shaking, spreading like broken glass. Maria and Elias stood outside the ruined Archive, dust and wind swirling around them. “It’s not a storm,” Elias said quietly. Maria shook her head. “It’s her.” Far above them, light flashed again. Not red like Helios. Not dark like Nyx. White. Blinding white. Then everything went quiet. Too quiet.

Magical Paint (Isabella's POV) I examined the jars of special paint Helena had acquired from a witch supplier, turning them over in the workshop's early afternoon light. The labels were handwritten in elegant script: Heat-Reactive Enchantment Paint - Various Colors. "It reacts to body heat," I explained to Lucas, who'd come to check on the workshop progress. "Could be interesting for accent details on jewelry. Or display pieces that respond to whoever's wearing them." Lucas moved closer, genuinely fascinated.

"I feel very proud of you because I have a very great and wonderful father." Father seemed pleased with the praise I gave him. "Oh, yes, father. I intend to change the paint of our house because the color looks very dark. Maybe we should order quite a lot of paint." The color of the house we were staying in was actually very beautiful, but I didn't like the paint, which seemed dull and needed to be replaced. "Why do you want to replace it?" "Because of the paint, I don't think I like the color, which is very dark and doesn't match the atmosphere of the house that I want. It's colorful, and I want to use sky blue or white." The color is very nice and gives a new vibe to it.