Sofia Carson Ethnicity Novelas e Histórias

They are young, beautiful, and each carries in their eyes the trace of power either bequeathed to them or stolen. --- — Valentina Moretti: The She-Wolf of Little Italy Daughter of the Moretti clan's godfather. Cold beauty, ivory skin, anthracite gaze. She enters without a word, leather coat on her shoulders, and a smile that smells of gunpowder. "You dare greatly, Tara. I like that." Her perfume is a warning: jasmine and iron. — Sofia Delgado: The Flame of the South Black hair, clear laugh, scarlet dress. Daughter of the master of the docks and maritime trafficking.

Her skin was a warm caramel tone that shone in the sun; it complemented her honey-colored eyes, which she got from her father. “Ana, go and wash your hands. Why would you touch your hair when you are about to eat?” Her mother chuckled mockingly as she sat down. “My hair was in my face, Mama,” Sophia whined as she pushed her wooden chair back and went to wash her hands in the sink; then she went back to have her seat. In a few minutes her father, Miguel Gonzalez, came down for dinner, his muscles showing through his long-sleeved beige shirt, his olive skin tanned from decades of police work under the Venezuelan sun, and his honey-colored eyes, which his daughter inherited from him.

Ending the call, she pulled on her coat and made her way out of the apartment which was her new home now. The drive to the estate was a long and silent one, where neither music played, nor did they speak to each other. Marco spending the time looking ahead of him, and Sofia spending it looking at him. "Quit it," He finally spoke, feeling her staring at the side of his face. "You're different," Sofia said. "Looks-wise I mean," "Yeah, my siblings went after our grandfather who had black hair and blue eyes, while I went after our grandmother who had brown hair and brown eyes,"

There was sadness in the eyes of madam Sonia. I was surprised at her question. This is always the case when I apply for a job. I'm half Australian, my dad is Australian. But before I was born, they got separated. I got my gray eyes from him. I have white skin and freckles on my shoulders but not that many. My nose is also narrow, my eyebrows were just right and I had heart-shaped lips that were reddish. No matter what I do during the day, I don't turn black. "Ahh ... mother Helen said you need a housemaid here. I'm saving for my college. It's hard to get a job by just having highschool diploma..." Madam nodded.

Carol only knew that she was originally known as Caroline Rockefeller. Her real mother was Fiona Fritzgerald, and her real father was Easton Rockefeller. They had lived in an urban village in the east of Northvale. When she was ten, her parents died in a car crash. At that time, the Fritzgerald family came to the hospital with Aster, and it was only then that Carol learned that Fiona was Aster’s aunt, and she was the only granddaughter of the Fritzgerald family. Aster was her cousin.

His voice was low, almost dangerous. "She," he said slowly, "is Sofia. My fiancée." "Your fiancée?" Lily's eyes widened in shock as she looked at Sofia. Carson's voice was low, frustrated. "Sofia, what do you actually want from me? I told you before, I need an answer. You said you're convincing your father, but how long do I have to wait?" "I am convincing him," Sofia snapped back. "Just give me some more time."

She stomped her feet. "What exactly do you want, Sofia?" I restrained my annoyance. Why did she have to yell all the time? "Just sit here and...Charlene!" She suddenly chirruped and sprang up to meet a girl of her height with an embrace. Charlene? Oh, yes, Charlene, her non-binary friend whose mother was Afro-American. The girl, no, was smartly dressed in a flamingo-pink dress that almost matched Sofia's. Their chestnut hair flopped over their large foreheads. Charlene was a beautiful sight, and Sofia brought them to me.

Carlos brows furrows, “Just moments ago in the building. You mentioned the curse, the witch. You recalled everything” “What are you talking about? Witch and curse? Have you lost your mind?” I ask in disbelief and mild concern. “What?” He breathes, looking dumbfounded. “Sofia, get to your senses. You are not Melanie. Try to remember, you are from Aster Pack. You have three sisters, Rora, Maria and Celia. You are my mate. Sofia, please try to remember. You are— “Stop it, Carlos” Liam’s struggling voice comes from behind followed by a grunt of pain. I try to shake Carlos’ grip but he refuses to let go.

What lazy 21-year-old lady would have zero degrees in her name? That was me, Sofia Dante. Actually, my real name is Sofia Di Marco and I'm not fvcking lazy. I ran into the United States after the gruesome murder of my father in Naples city of Italy and have been in hiding for 10 years. My teenage life was wasted in isolation. My father was Italian and my mother; was a Native American from South Dakota. She died of a brain tumour when I was three. I was a replica of her and looked nothing like my father.

Exactly three months later... Sophia sat in front of her dresser at five-thirty a:m and packed her dark curly hair into a neat bun. It was the best thing she had inherited from her birth mother, Cecilia. She had very beautiful curly dark hair and light skin, while Sophia had a caramel skin color, a mixture of Bernard's dark color and Cecilia's. Cecelia, Sophia's mother was from a little village in Morocco while Bernard was from Nigeria but Bernard being a son of the soil and Cecelia an understanding wife brought up their daughter in Nigeria. Although sometimes they visited Cecilia's sister in Morocco.