Pale Blue Novels & Stories

The blue of the sky was an insult. It was a perfect, crystalline cerulean—the kind of blue that only existed in pre-cataclysm postcards or the most expensive tiers of the Aethelgard simulation. It was the color of peace, of a world reborn, of a "Hard-Reset" that should have signaled the end of our suffering. But as I stood on the grey, salt-crusted sand of the Pacific shoreline, that blue felt like a mocking screen, a new layer of paint over a rotting house.

“Thalia… you asked for wine to cool your head and I gave you just that. Why are you trying so hard to push it?” “I’m not.” “And do you intend to cool off when you keep talking?” “Now… listen to this. I get to tell you everything you need to know about me, too. This is an opportunity for you to get answers to all your questions about…” “Blue… Deep ocean blue,” he cut her off. Thalia blinked. “H-huh? What’s that?” “The color.”

"Sofia, you are marrying the most powerful being alive in a castle-mansion in front of an entire pack that is divided about whether you should exist. Everything about this is dramatic." I looked at her. "The blue," she said firmly. Lilly, from the window seat, held up her notebook: The blue. Kara is right. "You're supposed to be objective," I told her. She wrote: I am being objective. The blue is objectively the best. I looked at the fabric. Deep midnight blue, the colour of the sky at the moment just before full dark, with a quality to it that caught the light differently depending on how you moved. It was, objectively, the best.

“What kind of blue?” Luna finally turned. “The soft one.” “That explains nothing.” Despite everything, a tiny sound escaped her throat that almost became laughter. She looked down immediately afterward as though happiness had broken some rule. “Light blue,” she said quietly. “Not bright.” Leo nodded slowly. He remembered something. Not clearly. Just enough.

And I’m blown away right there. If I had to break it down, the room should start with the walls. They have painted shades of blue in yellow of the likes I have never seen. It’s almost garish in the shade- seldom used in nature. It’s a color I never expect to find in my palace. But that is just the walls.

[Alexander] I had no idea what I was doing, picking out wall paint in the hardware store during my lunch break. A friendly young man - probably working here only part-time - came to me with a thick leather book, apparently to make the decision easier. Skimming through the pages, I realized there were more shades of the color blue than the ones I ever knew. Baby blue, turquoise, cyan, azure, neon. Lord have mercy! “Do you have anything less bright?”

I would like to have purple and blue but I let Aiden decide. "Why don't you pick the blue one, Aiden?" I asked him. "You look good in blue, Mom. I want you to be unnoticed as possible...even though it's impossible." The last sentence is a whisper but I was still able to hear it. I snickered. Sometimes, it feels like my son is hyping over me. "Okay. Pastel colors are the least noticeable colors." I just promised even if it's not true. Pastel colors are gentle to the eyes. It's a soft color for soft girls.

Chapter: 23 ****** In the realm of ethereal beauty and boundless wonder, cerulean unfolds before the restless angel's eyes. As he walked down the long, winding path, a symphony of colors danced in the air, painting the sky with hues that defied earthly imagination. Wisps of iridescent clouds drifted lazily, casting shimmering reflections upon the glistening surfaces of crystalline structures that rose majestically from the cerulean ground. Azrael, the Celestial Prince, admired its pristine perfection, finding each new detail more magnificent than the last. He paused in front of an archway of blue flowers and reached out, placing his hand on the wall. He traced the petals with delicate finger

Mom had asked, curious why my face was so close to the window and my eyes gazed at the sky, all sparkling. “The sky is so blue today,” I had said. “It’s beautiful.” Mom bent her head and looked up at the sky too. She chuckled. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” she said. “It’s Prussian blue.” “Prussian blue?” I turned to look at her in question. She nodded. “That’s the name of that blue,” she said. “Prussian blue.” I smiled and returned my attention to the sky, my eyes gazing at the unique color.

They were a striking shade of beautiful blue, like deep sapphire pools, reflecting the tranquillity of the morning sky. Embarrassment flushed through me, my cheeks warming with a blush as I stood there, caught in the midst of my clumsy mishap. Yet, his expression softened, and a warmth radiated from his beautiful blue eyes. They held a tenderness that made my heart flutter, a connection that spoke of shared moments and unspoken emotions. Even in this vulnerable state, his eyes conveyed a reassurance, as if to say, "It's alright, Nesta."