Romans & histoires Lighter Shade Of Grey

I refuse to carry the fucking thing that way and place it on a belt attachment I carry for just this reason. Alphonso is sitting behind the glass at the first entrance and I give him a wave. He speaks on his radio and I’m immediately buzzed through the heavy door, wait for it to close, and hear the buzz of the second door. Gray is the color scheme of choice throughout the entire building—every wall, every door, every counter. You would think they’d use baby-shit yellow to accent the smell.

Maybe. “Beige or maroon?” I asked abruptly. She flinched, not dramatically, just a small jolt, like she had been yanked out of her thoughts and dragged back into mine. “What?” she asked warily. I turned to her, already irritated by the need to repeat myself. “Which colour do you prefer, beige or maroon?” She blinked at me, her eyebrows knitting slightly in confusion. “I… I think maroon is prettier.” I gave a small, thoughtful nod, my eyes drifting back to the window. “Mm. It has depth,” I murmured, mostly to myself. “But beige is lighter. More soothing.”

"She likes you, fucking smile," Azu said under his breath while maintaining a smile for the women. Kachi lifted his lips slightly before turning away from the slim dancer he'd been watching earlier. He couldn't see much of her face, but her eyes seemed to be accentuated by the red of her mask. Her brown eyes were like pools of molten chocolate and he'd felt uncomfortable looking into their depths. "You can do better." Chike knocked their legs together and Kachi scowled at his friend.

We’re almost there. Coming to a halt, Larissa and I slowly stride towards the lake’s edge and peer downwards to glimpse ourselves. The beautiful crescent moon, which is the shade of my eyes, was the first thing that came into view. And unlike most wolf shifters, my eyes have remained sky blue instead of gold. Slowly turning around, I take note that my wolf is slightly larger than your average female wolf shifter. I’ve never had the privilege of meeting an ancient werewolf, so I suppose that’s where our size comes from. Our fur is black as midnight, however our tail and paws are grey. Grey and Auburn undertones highlight the darkness, which is quite mesmerizing.

The fit was exact in a way that felt unsettling, like it knew me better than I knew myself. Grey, the color caught the light softly, rich without being loud. Threads of darker emerald traced subtle patterns along the sleeves and hem, there were protective enchantments, as I was told. Practical, not ornamental. Liora circled me slowly, arms crossed, eyes glittering with interest. "You wear it well," she said finally. I let out a small breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. "You say that like I had a choice." She smiled faintly. "Most people fight the grey. They think it means limits."

I could see the room clearly, the light coming through them in the afternoon— What color. I stopped. I reached again, harder, the way you press on a bruise to make sure it still hurts, still means something. Blue. They were blue. I was almost sure. Except the more I looked at them in my head, the more the blue seemed to shift, seemed to slide toward grey, toward something without a color at all, like paint drying wrong, like a photograph left too long in the sun. I tried green.

Looking around, she tucked a lock of her ash grey hair behind her ear. Yes, she used to have a lighter shade of raven black as her hair color yet had to lighten the shade over to an extent that it is almost in a lighter shade of dark grey, almost ash-colored since that’s the color which Carmilla has, according to Cristopher. Seems pretty, she might just live with this color from now on. Making a difference might be a better way to change into a better version of yourself.

It was getting darker, and the moon that Isiewu had seen a while ago, was slowly withdrawing its light. Olanna carried the palm oil lamp which she had bought from the market the previous day after a peaceful bargain with a short woman, whose accent was as strange as her hair. The lamp gave a poor glow and illuminated a small area of the path which they covered. The deeper they went, the fewer people they met on their way. They kept on walking until the lamp, which Olanna held in her hands, gave up with a slow hissing sound. “What are we going to do now?” Olanna asked.

The room was unfamiliar, tastefully decorated in shades of grey and white. The room I found myself in was a masterclass in understated masculine elegance. The color palette was a symphony of cool greys and crisp whites, punctuated by accents of deep charcoal and rich espresso brown. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows adorned with gauzy white sheers, casting a soft, diffused glow across the space.

The white lights, lingering above, glared through dirty glass of their bulbs, flooding the grey single tables, the grey food, and the grey floor below awash, seemingly revealing all. The spoons were grey, the plates were grey, and the chairs were grey. Everything was grey. The engineer's eyes were grey, his standard issue shirt and trousers were grey, and a few grey hairs sat in the overgrown ,bushy ginger cloud which lay atop his head. His sallow skin, once tanned and always flushing red, now held a grey hue. The bags under his eyes, however, were a staunch black.