Novelas y relatos de Rosalina Artwork

The photograph sat on the desk like a relic from another life. Talana stared at it for the third hour straight, as if her mother might suddenly blink or speak from within the frame. The woman in the image looked older, gaunter, her face more drawn than Talana remembered, but the eyes were the same. Rosalina Sanchiano, alive in 2019. Or someone who wore her face. She couldn’t stop turning the question in her mind: "Was this the truth, or another carefully laid lie? A misdirection planted by De Marco before his fall? A ghost conjured to unsettle her?"

It was a vibrant springtime scene. Amidst a sea of bright, colorful flowers stood a woman in white, her body turned slightly. She held a branch of crabapple blossoms, seemingly about to inhale its fragrance, but was caught mid-turn, responding to someone calling her. The painting captured this delicate moment of warmth and beauty. Her eyes and brows held a gentle smile, her gaze soft and serene. She stood among the dazzling flowers like a lotus rising from the water—graceful and elegant. Gazing at the scroll, the king’s expression finally softened. “So, Miranda’s appearance resembles her mother, and all of this is merely a coincidence. Wait, Miranda…”

Rosaline had the mirror in her suite back in the Cresian royal palace transformed as the conduit between her and the Queen for secretly reporting her about the things going on in Cresia. She had a suspicion about her half-sister for quite some time now but there was substantial evidence about her intentions. So, she recruited Rosaline who is very loyal to the Queen since she was chosen as one of the closest royal associates years back. She was the one whom one day saw Euphenia coming out of the sacred place where the Bracelet of Uraos was kept. The reason for the suspicion was that very same day Queen Niamh visited the place. It was decided that since the Queen and the Princess were the ones

His lips curved into a diabolical smile as his eyes further dropped down on her cleavage line. Xavier looked back at Rosaline who was still breathing heavily, her eyes were closed and her red lips were swollen. He felt a sadistic pleasure when his obsidian orbs landed on her swan like neck which were painted with reddish and purplish marks as he silently appreciated his art. His fingers played with the hem of towel as he slightly tugged on it. Rosaline's eyes snapped open by his rough move. She looked at him in horror but before she could open her mouth, he harshly pulled the towel down making her big busts bare to his lustful eyes.

*** LEONARDO'S POV I watched as Rosalina grabbed a broom and bucket, heading out of the patio to clean off Marco's spilled blood. My cock twitched as she bent over to scrub the concrete, those tight shorts showing off the sweetest ass in all of New York. The way her luscious hips swayed as she moved was like a siren's call, tempting me to feel them against my palms. I took another drag, just watching her for god knows how long.

“isn’t that too-“ Martelli cleared his throat, so that she stopped her sentence half way. “Well, we will need something more assuring.” Rosaline said. She was bent on making her point in any way possible. “Something like?” Martelli shifted his focus to Rosaline as he asked. Rosaline mouthed as if trying to say something, and then became calm. Martelli was obviously holding himself back from exploding. You could see it in his eyes when he glanced at Rosaline that he was not a fan of hers.

They were the landscapes of a woman who had been paying attention to the world from the margins of it for thirty-one years and had finally been given a wall to put the attention on. "How long have you been painting?" Elena said. "Since Quebec," Rosa said. "Since Marcus was in the facility and I needed something to do with the hours." She looked at the canvases. "I stopped when I had to be invisible. You can't paint and be invisible. Paint requires walls." She paused. "Now I have walls." Elena looked at the canvases. "These should be somewhere people can see them," she said. "Where?" Rosa said. Elena looked at her.

Evren couldn't have been older than ten, wearing an expression of pure boredom while Lucien jabbed a finger excitedly at some enormous history book. "Some things never change," Pearl said, smiling. Rosalie glanced at the painting and laughed. "That one's famous." "Why?" "Eros wanted a formal portrait. We ruined six before we got that one." "What happened?" Finn asked. Rosalie pointed. "Evren kept making faces." "I was a child." "You were impossible." "I was expressive." "You were impossible." "I can actually believe that," Pearl said, studying the painting again. Evren caught up to the group just in time to hear it. "I feel like everyone's conspiring against me today."

"Right." Martel smiled, but Élise could see he didn't fully believe her. Or in himself. She gave him another small kiss. "I'm sorry Martel but I need to go... Will my order be ready for next week?" Martel ran his hands through his hair as he looked over to where the piece lay, half finished, but Élise could make out the outline of a rose, the finished stem was made from silver and the flower was delicate gold, but looked still to be half opened and still not fully in bloom.

ROSALINE I followed Igor down the large stairs and into a hallway. I couldn't help but admire the paintings that were hung on the wall. I wasn't one that knew a lot about art but I knew enough to tell that the artist was skilled. Everything was beautiful. I didn't even know Igor had stopped until I bumped into his hard back. "Ouch," I mumbled as I rubbed my nose. "Sorry," I heard him mutter and knock on a large door. After two seconds, he opened it and walked in.