Marceline Drawing Novels & Stories

Marcel exchanged fleeting glances with me and anxiety crept at the back of my neck when he locked gazes with me because why in the world was he staring at me in that dreamy manner? Trying to change the conversation, I said. “What are you doing here?” He chuckled and I palmed my forehead. “I saw you guys” Marcel covered Sage’s eyes. “You didn't see anything” “I did, I saw a lot” I took Sage by the hands leading him to the couch. “Where are your brothers?” “They are having their afternoon nap but I have been busy sketching a family picture of us. It isn't ready yet but soon” Marcel's eyes brightened as he sat right next to us. “I can't wait to see it!”

Cross chuckled, the sound low and cold as it echoed through the cavernous study. His figure leaned back against the plush leather chair like a king surveying his court—a cruel, calculating monarch basking in his dominion. Marceline stood stiffly across from him, her arms folded tightly across her chest as though trying to hold herself together. Her jaw clenched. “Do you find this amusing?” she asked, voice trembling beneath the weight of fury she refused to unleash. “Do you think I can’t do it?”

I traced the curve of her waist to her ass better and added the finishing details to her legs and the ocean washing up to it. It was almost perfect. All it needed to look exactly like the original was color but I didn't color my drawings. I never had, I had never thought painting it would make it better, either. But every time I drew Madelaine, I wanted the color to be in there. I shut my drawing book and kept it safe away from the water. Madelaine’s eyes were still closed, she must have fallen asleep. “Are you sleeping?” I asked, and she groaned, opening her eyes groggily.

Marcel began walking away. “Why would I divulge my reasons to you?” Celia followed him, wondering that as well. “Because maybe a good reason would make you seem less like a power–hungry maniac.” Marcel smirked. “Maybe I am a power–hungry maniac.” This bastard is playing with me. “If that were true, I imagine you’d have been making us build a castle like the humans do.” “You know, little Omega, that’s a good idea.”

The moment the door closed, the room filled with silence, only the faint beeping sound of the machines echoing of pencil scribbling against pen as Michelle completed her drawing. Amelie bit down on her lower lip in thought. Was she simply overthinking it? Perhaps it has not actually been Zacharie who saved her but a generous p*sserby? Amelie was drawn out of her thoughts as Michelle who noticed her looking down, tugged on her dress. "Mommy, look at my new drawing." She held up the picture she was busy completing, showing Amelie. The picture was of a simple garden filled with chrysanthemums and irises in full bloom.

“My commitment to you is unwavering. I'm here, as I promised, and will remain by your side until my journey ends with the moon goddess.” “I'm curious about our appearance.” "Go take a look at the river," said Marceline. Reaching the river, I was astonished by my reflection—a magnificent golden wolf, sizable and with stunning ruby-red sapphire eyes. With Marceline's chuckling in my head, I turned to see Castro's shell-shocked reaction to how we looked. “Marceline, are you aware of what we must do?” “I'll stand by you, no matter what you decide.” "Thank you, Marceline. I'm wondering if we can establish a mental connection without being mark."

My chest tightened. The drawing wasn't remarkable. Children drew families every day. The labels underneath made it remarkable. Mom. Me. Uncle Edwin. Arthur. I looked again. Arthur. The fourth figure wasn't Elias Vale. It was Arthur. The room seemed to tilt slightly. "Lucian." My voice came out quieter than intended. He crossed immediately. Then frowned. Then looked at the drawing again. And again. Mara joined us. Vivian too. Nobody spoke for several seconds. Finally Mara said,

Locked it. Relief washed through me. Then, in the privacy and quiet of that room, I crouched down beside Eli and met his clear blue gaze. “What did Mr. Marcello say to you?” Eli shrugged, but he didn’t look away. “He said he liked my drawing. He wanted to see more. I didn’t show him.” I heaved a sigh. “Is that all?” “He …” Eli nibbled his lip as he thought. “He asked me about Uncle Marco.”

Silence filled the ward. “Celesta,” Marceline called softly. She paused, then added calmly, “Draft the papers like I told you. Get them ready.” Her gaze turned distant.

" “I do." “So tell me what are these creatures I keep drawing in my painting and how come I am able to hear their voices in my head?" Marcel asked and from his tone one could tell he was somewhat frustrated but the old lady seemed thrilled by his revelation. “What do they tell you?" She asked, curiosity pique. “Different things. Sometimes they are things I want to hear and other times they say things..things that are so vile yet appealing," Marcel said and the lady smiled intriguingly “They feed off your desires and thoughts. Interesting," she muttered the last part to herself.