Hortensia Matilda Novels & Stories

“Yes, I missed it. Sister Rene bombarded me task earlier that I grew exhausted, and I accidentally slept on the stable.” “I am sorry about that.” The sovereign said. Abigail then caught the sticking leaf on Mathilda’s legs. No tree inside the compound had that on their foliage, and it would seem that she was out the whole time which was true. Abigail then abruptly stood, slightly throwing Mother Renata off balance. “There is a bug on my skirt. There is a bug in my skirt.” She acted as she kept shaking her skirt and eyeing Mathilda’s at the same time. And fortunately, Mathilda noticed the leaf before Mother Renata could see it.

"Alright, spit out" "The potion which I created has your name chanted in it. It can only work for you and your immortality will only last a day, once it's a new day. You've got to take a dose of the potion unless you can die as a mere mortal" "That's why I usually add it to your food. The army which you are planning to create would simply need Eva's blood since they are freshly dead" Matilda explained. Liam listened carefully to her and took his hand purposely to her hair. He kept stroking it and that made her more open.

He gathered up everything he needed in an hour and was headed to the checkout when he passed a small floral shop. “Flowers that is what I am missing.” He thought as he swung his cart into the flower shop. A lady behind the counter asked “Hi, what can I get you?” “I need some Daisies.” He said. “A dozen of them.” “Did you have a particular color in mind?” “No surprise me.” He knew it didn’t matter to Matilda what color they were. She loved Daisies. “Make it two dozen.” He tells her.

‘Then why are you looking at their roots and covering them back’ Natasha asked. ‘You know their age through their roots’ nara said ‘snow grass has a life span of 100 years, the snow grass they are taking is about 50-60 years’. ‘Wow I guess it’s true, healers and witches go crazy for herbs’ ivory murmured opening the map she held. Ivory noticed a blue dot at the entry point of chex on the map, straining her eyes she looked at it carefully. ‘This wasn’t there before’ ivory thought.

Across the small table sat Matilda. She was a little close to thirty, with a laugh that carried like sunlight through an open window and eyes that sparkled when she talked, green, bright, and framed by lashes that looked unfairly long without a hint of mascara. A tiny gold hoop glinted in her left nostril, and a faint dusting of freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, making her seem younger than she probably liked to admit.

Matilda was on birth control pills so I didn't have to bother about pregnancy. "Oh fuck, I needed this after today's bore," she said, trying to catch her breath. I laid down beside her, my breath coming in short rasps. "You saw her, didn't you?" I asked, running my fingers slowly over her thighs. "Yeah, I don't like her. She seems fragile but I just don't like the aura that she exudes" Matilda turned to meet my gaze. "Well, I think it's time to get dressed. It'll start raining soon" Matilda said, standing up and dusting her body. She brought out a chiffon dress from the branch of a tree.

This isn’t good. “What prophecy?” Both Angelina and I asked. “She who will not know her destiny until it reveals itself to her. She, who will have the eyes of good and bad. She, who will bear the chosen. She, who will be just as powerful as the Moon Goddess herself, an infused element of the greater powers. She, who will have a powerful mate who will need her, and who she will need. She, who is the Pallid Wisteria,” Martha said. “It’s a prophecy that speaks about you. We only know that it’s about you because we were told so by the Moon Goddess,” Jorge said. I was in awe.

She just wanted to remember how his daughter had survived until this moment, just like the flower she also watered every morning so wouldn't die. Reya glanced at the woman beside her curiously, but it seemed that his mother was lost in thought of something when she heard his question. She was just curious because the last time played at his parents' house, the Calendula flower was not yet in their yard. Slowly, she plucked one of the flowers for attention. She knew the meaning of the flower in his hand, but she did not hate the flower only made it a memory in his life journey.

I approach cautiously, trying not to disturb her slumber. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I glance at the computer screen in front of her. The document displayed on the screen is titled "Fragrance of Love." My heart skips a beat as I realize that this must be the copy of the book she was working on, the one named after the scent of Tuberose. Could it be that Ema is Tuberose?