Novelas y relatos de White Beard

If I am to guess his age then he should be more than three hundred and fifty years of existence. His beards were gray and wasn't of pure white anymore and they were weaved like that of a horse. And then bands were used to hold them. His eyebrows were gray as well and his nose were pointed and crooked. "I can see through your eyes and I can feel your deepest fears. Alpha Darwin will forever be a beast. You are worried about a lot and you want to break free but you need me to win." He stuttered as he moved towards me. He was too weak to move as his foot shake as he used his staff as support.

ATTIRE His attire aligned well with his looks and character. Being a supernatural entity of knowledge, who has literally all about the universe and its fabric in his head, no looks suits such personality other than an aged white bearded man. Possessing curly hair, a staff which was close to no use, and a garment that signified simplicity.

This time, he frowns like he's trying to understand what I just said, "You're pretty, I like it, what's the big deal?" "No big deal. It's good that you like me. I just... I used to look better," he murmurs and now it's my time to be completely confused. I almost don't believe he could look any better than this, "More manly. I had a beard I was very proud of. I grew it for almost ten years.” Wow. Thank god it’s not here anymore.

Both men comply. The first one is older—broad-shouldered and solid, with more grey than brown in his hair. His beard is neatly trimmed, but there’s something rugged about him that grooming can’t polish away. He wears a faded, greyish shirt that clings to a powerful frame, the sleeves rolled up to reveal two thick, jagged scars—one running down each arm from under the sleeve to just above the elbow. They’re not clean slashes. Whatever tore into him left behind something ragged and cruel.

“Here are pictures of the two people that are active on your hit list.” Dad handed us pictures of two separate men. Both of them had grown out hair, their beards weren’t trimmed and stuck out in very direction. Mine had a very noticeable white patch in the middle. However, it was his eyes that scared me. One was blue, and the other was brown.

“Michael…” The man has a scruffy white beard matching his frizzy hair that covers the top of his head. Deep wrinkles cut into his face, especially around his eyes, which are now sunken and almost black with a tinge of yellow where they should be white. His teeth that were straight and shockingly white, are now yellow with black spots at the tops and bottoms.

I don’t know why, but he’s cute with his current appearance. I stared at him, and his beard was stealing my attention. “You might do tough things while being away and grow a beard on your face,” I mumbled, making him look at me. “You’ve been away for a while,” I added. His brown eyes stared at me intensely, trying to find words to say.

His neatly-styled handlebar mustache curled in either direction of his face. “Some retain beards from mortality,” he continued, “but cannot grow them back if they are shaven. We, the Immortal Beard Society, propose that a man cannot truly be a man unless he can grow facial hair even after he has become immortal.” “Here, here!” barked the other men. Loretta bit her fist to stifle her giggles. “It is time we welcomed our new applicants,” said Mr. Pervis. He gestured to a small group of gentlemen sitting in a line of chairs. The Immortal Beard Society regarded these applicants with henceforth-unimpressed eyes.

I already told you that there is no use for you to know the things that are happening in the outside world” It was an old man that was full of white hair on his head, on his eyebrow and on his beard. He is a man that has a wrinkles on his face. A body that is not that masculine, but you can say that he is a healthy person who is not that slim. Even so, you can never say that he is some fat old man, for he have a healthy exercise. Every day he eat only in the precious food for his life to prolong. He is someone that holds a great power within this place. He is someone you would fear to be an enemy.

I stood at the very centre of the table, trying not to explode from the attention I was getting. "What's keeping him so long?" Someone grumbled. It was a man, an elderly man with sparkly gray beards the swept the ground whenever he was talking. The features on his face made it clear that he was an old man, but his body said otherwise. " We don't have all day."