White Hair On Dark Skin Novels & Stories

someone shouted from the camp. "Stay here!" mother said, and I obeyed. A woman came through the door. Her hair was white, too, but she was a bit older with a few lines on her face. White hair was a genetic trait in the family. Instantly, I remembered that our pack, The Skyefrost Pack, had Viking heritage. Hence, the fair skin, blonde and white hair, and white fur. We were Arctic Wolves. "Grandma," I said aloud. "Ssshhh," Daphne said, still holding my hand.

I said. "What's with the weird teeths then?" A man yelled. I held my hand up, checking out my teeth. I could feel it all of a sudden, two teeths sharper than others on opposite sides. Mythological facts had called them fangs… How could I have them? "Her eyes aren't black no more." The sun had suddenly begun to affect me, my eyes felt heavy, burning with the intense sunlight. That wasn't enough to prove that I was a monster, they're just frightened.

I hissed. “I dare not.” His eyes darted to mine, then back to my fur. “I have to inform you… this resembles vitiligo. A depigmentation disorder. It is common among humans, and sometimes animals. But—” he paused, and his voice dropped lower, “I have never, in all my years, seen a demon with it.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You insult me. You think I came here for human diagnoses?” “It is no insult,” he replied quickly. “I tell you what I see. The skin, the fur—it loses pigment. There is no pain? No burning?”

Even with the baggy hoody, I can see the bulge of his chest and arms. His ivory skin compliments his blond hair, which is long and wavy. But not too long. Cut just right. And the roots are brown. Is that fake? No, it's real. I had to dye my black and straight hair once, and I would know. His sharp nose rests between two grey eyes. The color of concrete.

There was a reason many of the werewolves steered clear of Delphine, choosing other medics to tend to their wounds. She had skin as dark as the night sky, warm from its rich brown tint. There were splotches of white skin around her mouth, left eye, down her neck, and on both arms that she’d once told me was due to a skin condition called Vitiligo. I’d found the two contrasts in colors interesting as a young teen, and Delphine had been more than happy to educate me.

“It’s better to put off her hair since it was dry, also the white hairs can be hidden if we braid them tight my lady.” “White hairs? Veta, I think you are overworking yourself.” “Ah, that, it was normal, I have had that white hair since I was child, the doctor said it was a rare illness that causes discoloration of my hair, that’s why I often dye it with dark colors.” “Illness? It’s the first time I'm hearing this.” “Don’t worry it's not something serious, you may ask the others in the academy, they have seen me dyeing my hair before.”

he said, holding up a finger, “let’s just review, shall we? Because frankly I’m starting to feel like I’m in the presence of some celestial being or mythical creature or something.” “Oh gods, here we go,” I muttered. “First,” he said, ticking off on his fingers, “your hair. That stark white—not silver, not blonde—actual white. And it’s long. Like holy-shit-don’t-sit-on-it long.” I laughed under my breath. “Second—your skin. Like… I don’t even think alabaster is the right word. Porcelain? Snowflake-kissed perfection? I don’t know, but it’s unnatural.”

You are just as stupid as you are hot-headed. What's that supposed to mean? If you were using your head instead of that oversized Ego of yours you could have seen the truth. I can sense her wolf, I can see it. Hidden inside that pretty human package is a wolf. A solid white wolf. Do you know what white wolves are? No, not really. What's your point? Most people get a mixed color wolf. Some grey with a spot here and there, other colors always with some sort of splash of mixed color somewhere. Not often are wolves seen with solid colors.

The liquid was cool, but the skin underneath seared my flesh. Her skin was pale, almost translucent. I could see the faint, rhythmic pulse of her veins. But it wasn't the pallor of sickness. It was the glow of something refined in a fire. Then I saw her hair. It used to be silver-blonde—like old coins. Now, it was white. Not the white of age, but the white of a star core. It shimmered with its own internal light. It floated slightly around her face, resisting the weight of the air.

She was stunning, so beautiful and one thing that bothered Mila was the fact that her black, long hair had started to change color, as if there was much light reflected on her hair that made it looked brither, whiter than before. How could she change her hair color like that? Mila couldn’t believe with wat she was seeing right now. It was not that her hair had changed into the color of white just like her hair, but it was most like her hair was not as black as before, it had a few light in it. Mila was having a hard time to describe it. How could that be? She was not suppose to be like that, right? But, how could that be even possible? Mila was shaking her head when Cosmo came closer to her