Novel & Cerita His Muse

Ella confusedly asked him. "I hired you to become my muse for my next masterpiece," he seriously said to her. "But I am not a model," Ella worriedly said to him. "You don't have to be a model to become my muse. Now, enough with the discussion and wear this, so we can get started," he said in a commanding tone.

I bang on a pot with a spoon, singing a off-key nursery rhyme at the top of my lungs. It is a war of aesthetics. A battle for his soul fought with color and sound. My creations are not good. They are not beautiful. But they are true. They are real. They are us. And their sheer, mundane, clashing joy is a dissonance the Muse cannot tolerate. It feeds on refined sorrow, not on messy, loud happiness. The clash of our creations—his dark perfection, my bright chaos—creates a psychic static that shakes the workshop. The Muse flickers, its beautiful form destabilizing. It cannot process this. It cannot consume this.

A flowing red dress framed my figure, and every careful stroke showed the artist's affection toward me. The artist was Anthony, and the title read, "My Only Muse". A hand-painted portrait carried a weight and romance that no confession could match. The entire social circle was in an uproar, shocked that Anthony, who had always been notoriously wild and arrogant, could fall so deeply for a woman. No one expected that after three years of living in the shadows, I would return, looking vibrant and more breathtaking than ever. Comment after comment calling us a perfect match flooded in, each one landing like a blow, leaving Caleb unable to stay composed.

“I’ve never seen a private collection this large.” “Well, he’s been collecting them since he was a child, and it has proved useful.” I clasp my hands behind my back and look around, then point to a book on a pedestal covered with a glass case. The page is open to the painting of The Moon Goddess with the Menae. “This is how we found out Kas is a goddess.” Musu looks down on the image and chuckles. “Is it inappropriate to say The Moon Goddess and Endymion were more like rabbits than wolves?”

“I know that you might not understand this, but I did find it amazing to see such beauty in one person as she got ready to fight something that she didn’t know. And while I do understand that you might not be afraid of my sister or that you were willing to accept her challenge. I did find it amazing to see a certain excitement in your eyes.” “It was a reminder to me about why I fancied you in the first place.” He said, looking me in the eye. I frowned in confusion and clenching my fists, I tensed, not knowing what to say. “You don’t have to say anything about what I just told you. But I figured that you would ask about why I was your muse and I chose to give you the most accurate response th

Her voice sounded so sarcastic. What's concerning about me, being the muse anyway? "So? Did I hear it right? You're joining the Ms. Intramurals?" She turned to me with a mocking face. I hardened my face."Yes. How about you?" I tried to be casual. She seems surprised because of my sudden acknowledgment. "Me? No, I'm not the muse. I'm a dance troupe member, remember? Though they're nominating me as their muse but I needed to decline because I value world class performance than low class beauty contest." The mocking in her eyes, reflected even more.

“Finally! My muse arrives.” She laughed softly. “Muse? What are you plotting now?” “Sit,” he commanded with exaggerated drama, patting the piano bench. “Today, we’re writing a song. The Liana Song. An anthem that will make the world know you’re mine.” She gave him a look. “Yours?” He smirked. “Don’t argue. Leo will try to write you into boring business reports, Cassian will try to draft legal contracts in your honor, but me? I’ll give you music. That way, no matter what happens, the whole world will hum your name.”

Luke breaks off a little portion from his chicken hamburger, throws it into his mouth, and chews. "First of all," he begins, "We need a human muse. According to the project topic, we have to submit seven human paintings showing the seven universal facial expressions. We need a muse who can display those facial expressions for us to paint from. And I already have an idea of who our muse is going to be." "And who is that?" I ask. A moment of silence slips past us. Luke's eyes never leave my face. "You, Alicia. You are going to be the muse."