روايات وقصص ضمن Lavender Pen

My hands, stained with the permanent black graphite of the north and the dark indigo ink of the south, were steady as I held the split reed pen Julian had carved for me. ​I dipped the nib into the clay pot of indigo ink, watching the thick, vegetable-based fluid fill the split reservoir before touching the point to the fresh palm slat. My hand moved with a fluid, unyielding momentum, the reed making a sharp, satisfying scratch against the dried fiber:

The pen was a Montblanc. Heavy. Black resin with a platinum nib. Liam had given it to her when she signed the lease for the first real AVA office in SoHo ten years ago. Now, she was using it to sign her own death warrant. Aurora sat up in the hospital bed that still dominated the master bedroom. The morning light was gray and uninspiring, filtering through the sheers like dirty water. On the rolling table in front of her lay a stack of documents.

The lavender notes feel like silk against my skin, the peppery vetiver tickles at my throat, and one spiced rose blend makes my heart ache without reason. Chris’s hand hovers over a slim glass bottle, its contents glowing faintly amber. “This formula helps soothe lung afflictions... breathing irregularities, asthma, even panic. And this,” he points to a deep blue bottle, “can lull the mind into the deepest stages of sleep. Some even claim these formulas tap into the dream realm itself.”

•Eric POV• I lifted the bottle in my hand, turning it slightly as I checked the design. The perfume bottle was made of clear glass, smooth and heavy in my palm, with sharp edges that caught the light. The liquid inside was a soft lavender shade, calm and clean, like it was meant to pull you in without trying too hard. I pressed the spray nozzle, and the fragrance filled the air almost immediately. It was a unique scent of lavender mixed with warm vanilla and a hint of citrus underneath. Soft, but strong enough to stay.

“Lavender is light green this time of year. It doesn’t bloom until June or July.” “What are you going to do with it now then?” “Make a sachet. The scent mostly comes from the oils in its leaves.” “Make a sachet for who?” I wade through the tall grass to stand close to her and inhale her sweet rainy scent. “For the den,” she says, glancing bashfully up at me from under her thick brown lashes. She’s wearing my old sweater and another pair of my drawstring pants. Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. She’s excited, too.

he simply said and walked away. " Duh... no one is helping us," I complained and looked at the last cupboard which is almost empty. " Almost is never enough. No use in searching this," I searched while complaining to myself. Luckily I spotted a small blue bottle named 'Lavender'. I got it. Which stupid poured the Lavender liquid in a blue bottle. I touched the small bottle and felt it's coldness from outside. No, the bottle is not cold, Iam feeling something colder on my hands.

Why? Because holding, touching, and hugging Layla Smith is one of a thousand ways of assured death. I did it still. Why? Because I like to push things. Once it was done, I couldn't take it back. And I'm not sure I want to. Lavender. Layla Dean has a scent like Lavender. I've been close. Just not this close. She's pressed against me like her body was made to mold just like this. Against mine. Nothing feels this good. Nothing can match this feeling. It's nice.

Sometimes I really missed modern conveniences, hot baths for one. We walked down the path laughing and talking about the different plants and their properties; he helped me study the different herbs and even pointed out ones that Abigail hadn’t written down yet. And this one? He asked, holding up a plant with tiny purple flowers. “Lavender.” “And what can it help with?” “Helps to ease stress and tension.” I replied. “I thought we were going for a walk, not a lesson.” With a smile, I teased. “We are doing both. I find your mind very attractive.” He shared as he used my hand to turn me to face him, hugging me around my waist.

Lavender had locked herself away from the outside world so she has not heard anything concerning Robert whether in the media or even in the house. Anna seemed to have warned the maids not to mention anything concerning Robert to her. Lavender had finished her daily entry and was in the flower garden trimming flowers. She has developed a habit of noting down everything she felt in her diary. Everyday, she will write what she felt and she will also complain about many things. It was probably one of the weird things pregnant women do. When Robert arrived, she was already in the garden tending to flowers. She wore a long white dress and a black shawl on her shoulders.

she asked quietly. Bell hummed, “Lavender”, she answered, “The bottle is blue the perfume is more of a purple color, mauve if someone were to be pedantic. But yes its calming, since most people only buy things related to the herb because of the effect lavender has”, she explained. “The effects of lavender?” Fiona asked confused.