Sif's Golden Hair 소설 & 이야기

Sophie complains even though I knew she didn't mean it. "Well, sweetheart, I think you're forgetting that women too can get their hair chopped off if they want to," I smile at her, sarcastic and her retorting smile is just as sarcastic. Sophie is dressed in a golden dress and the hairstylists had insisted on putting in some golden flower ornaments in her hair. She despised the idea but went along with it. To me, they looked quite pretty.

Zak and Rachel were as clueless as I was, as we exchanged bewildered looks with each other. Señor Ramirez looked at us. “The Golden Leaf has been stolen.” I gasped in horror, as did Zak and Rachel. Silence hung in the room. “No way,” I finally said, my voice trembling. “I received a call last night from my good friend from my time with the

(Theia’s POV) I typed furiously at my keyboard, allowing the words to flow through me as always. [ “Mate!” he said as he realised that the woman sitting a few tables down was the reason for the intoxicating scent. Even now, as he stared at her, unable to drag his eyes away, he could see the subtle differences in her hair. It wasn’t just blond, it held strands of pure gold and honey gold. Her skin appeared to glow with a radiance that wasn’t there a few moments before.

"Good thing your aunt Selena agreed to take in the twin along with Randi." "Yes." Replied Sif. "And thank you for agreeing to help support us." He added and Fiora couldn't deny how pleased she felt seeing the bit of relief across his face as he smiled. "It was nothing. Clement stacked me with that much money I don't know what to do with." "Don't talk like that. My father can be a lot of things, but he is one smart old champ." Sif said. "He knew as the next queen of this city, you'll need as much gold as possible. Only the rich royalties excel."

As I open my eyes, I hear Sofia gasp. “Your eyes!” She cries out. “The-they're beautiful.” She walks up to me, taking the tips of my hair in her hand, “your hair, Miya.” She whispers in disbelief. I peer down at her hand, and my hair is no longer black. It is dark red with the odd strand of silver running through it. “What color are my eyes?” I ask with an underlay of concern and interest. “Pearly white with amber rings.” She responds with astonishment. “Rings just like Zions' when he looks at you.”

Chapter Four— My Ex Wife?? Surely she wasn’t Gianna. Gianna had blonde hair, shiny blonde hair that gave her the name ‘Golden Tulip’ when she was a teen, she would always talk about how she was teased about it, and he always told her she was better as a blonde anyway.

A shimmer of moonlight on steel. Elira’s dagger was in her hand instantly. “We’re not alone.” Figures emerged from the shadows—tall, cloaked, their eyes glinting like stars. Their movements were silent, precise, deadly. Elves. One stepped forward, lowering his hood. His hair was gold as wheat, his features sharp and cold. His gaze swept over Kaelen before settling on Elira. “Liraethiel,” he said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “You’ve broken exile.”

╔═━─────━▒ Cassius ▒━─────━═╝ Her Caramel blonde hair flowed softly, stirring with the cool breeze as it drifted past us, whispering into the approaching night. Sylphie reached up, catching the stray strands of her hair as they caressed her face, slightly obscuring her sight, before pushing them back and tucking the golden blonde strands behind her ears. The gesture was brief and smooth, but in that moment, she looked divine—a picture-perfect image cut out from a dream, and I couldn't help but get caught up in the sight of her again.

Silvia POV + Calvin POV --- Silvia They say gold is a color that blinds - radiant, brazen, impossible to look away from. But tonight, it felt like armor. I stood at the top of the grand staircase in the Riego estate, cloaked in the kind of gown meant to leave people speechless - golden silk that clung to every curve, with a plunging neckline and a back so bare it taunted every eyes with every step I took. My hair was swept up into a modern chignon, delicate strands left loose to frame my face, and my heels were so high, I felt like I could stab the sky.

I turn to look at him, my eyes as wide as saucers. “Did your Alpha just smack my ass?” A few hours later, Sierra is putting the finishing touches on my hair. I groan as she pins the final silver clip into place, sealing the style with a mist of holding spray. My entire scalp aches; every strand has been tugged, curled, and manipulated to fit the "Lunar Princess" aesthetic. The result is a masterpiece of high-society wolf craft. My hair is swept up in elaborate, shimmering coils that leave my neck exposed—a vulnerable, yet defiant statement in a room full of predators.