Romans & histoires White Rose From Alice In Wonderland

"Rose…" Emma passed the bouquet to Rose as she was talking. The blue enchantresses and the pink wrapping paper with two butterflies printed on it were so familiar to Rose that her expression stiffened. Was this a coincidence or was this… James? Rose took the flowers, but she didn't feel happy. She looked in the bouquet and didn't see any card; her expression then fell. Was this bouquet from James? As she held the pink wrapping paper and glanced at the two butterflies on it, which were blue and red, she thought that it was similar to the one in her memory.

She couldn't even bring herself to break the annoying alarm clock as this one was a customized one. The particular clock had a voice which always started with a sweet voice,"wakie wakie baby.... Rise and shine my queen..." But that was not the only reason, the reason we're never the words...nope... not at all... The reason was the voice... It belonged to Rudra... She still finds it a mystery to solve that how her friend caught a hold of Rudra's voice that too such sweet one... Groaning, she picked up her alarm clock on her nightstand, Sakshi looked at the time and said,

Alice rubbed her cheeks wondering if they were still red. There was an undertone of excitement in the air surrounding her. The plastic cherry blossom tree, with its pretty pink flowers, was looming above them, and for a brief moment, Alice wondered exactly how much paper would have been wasted for making this tree. It wasn't the most appropriate thought for the situation she was in, after all, she had just been kissed.

Alice followed him, bowed his head, and Barry touched his face: "I'm so unsightly? Walk with me so that you can't even lift your head?" "No." After seated, Alice listened to Barry's words and quickly looked up. Suddenly, a bunch of red and red roses came into her eyes. Alice was a little dumbfounded, her tongue was eaten, and she was speechless. Barry smiled with satisfaction: "Do you like it?" "Like it." The red rose, with its crystal clear water droplets on its petals, refracts the colorful light under the radiant light, which is too beautiful. "Just like it, please accept it."

Rosalie didn't like it . She flinged another one of her denim shorts and started to search the wardrobe once again from the scratch but Rosalie knew that chances of getting a proper dress in her wardrobe was a near impossible feat . She was just thinking whether she should make do with her poison ivy casual shirt and white pants when the most seductive of pine and amber dry cedar invaded her nostril . Rosalie felt her wolf purr in satisfaction , pulling back her ears and sniffing the air eagerly . Rosalie turned around and lo and behold , Aiden was standing in the room ; with a look of complete confusion and amusement on his face as he looked around the massacre Rosalie had done in their

'' She replies, lightly running her hand at Elis's back. A couple of hours later, I am left staring at the glass window near the back—only watching flowers blossoming beautifully. My lips curve up into a small smile, realising that there's a lot of roses here other than different flowers. To my surprise, I find Fiore standing a few feet from me as she watches the roses, ''They are Elia's favourite.'' She says, breaking the silence. ''Especially orange coloured roses,'' She adds. Roses. Is it a coincident?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅• Caroline sat beside her mother, Agatha, flipping through the glossy pages of a wedding catalog, scanning the carefully curated arrangements of flowers. Soft sunlight poured through the window, illuminating the pages, casting a gentle glow over the delicate bouquets displayed on each spread. Agatha’s fingers lingered over an image of pristine white roses, her expression calm yet decisive. "White roses," she said firmly, tapping the picture with purpose. "Classic, elegant. They symbolize purity and new beginnings. They’re perfect."

“Not the ashbalm. Especially not now that it’s finally blooming.” My gaze darts to the flowers, and it’s a miracle. The white buds, still speckled with Eldrick’s blood, are unfurling into delicate petals as intricate as tatted lace, and they glow. The entire wheelbarrow is illuminated as if by moonlight. And the scent. It fills my nose and thrums in my veins. It smells like perfect memories and wonderous dreams. “Well, I guess it wasn’t the soil that was the issue after all,” the witch says, gathering her skirts and rising from a bench. “I guess it just wanted a different kind of watering.”

7:40 AM. In his hands, Robert held a bouquet of white flowers, mostly carnations. He loved white carnations because they had always been his mother's favorites, and he believed they might also be to Alice's liking. However, inside that vehicle, four men were unloading floral arrangements of roses and carnations, adorning the entire path leading to Alice's room, the entire house up to the entrance, filling every corner with those decorations. The house was full! It gave a very pleasant atmosphere, not to mention the scent they emitted.

Alice also wanted to feel this feeling again. "Stop here, I want to go for a walk." The carriage stopped and Alice got off. The delicate face was half hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. Although Alice deliberately chose to wear a simple, sweet pastel pink outfit, she also wore a plain, patternless robe. The delicate face was even half hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. But Alice's outstanding and beautiful aura still attracted many curious glances from passersby.