아티스트 Novels & Stories

Nifemi said and Ibukun turned to her and Nifemi managed to wear a small smile. “I’m sorry. Very sorry” Nifemi said and she watched as Ibukun sniffed her tears and didn’t reply. ‘I was wrong” Nifemi said and Ibukun slowly nodded. “About the artists, that came out wrong. I just said that out of anger. Artists are the ones who show us how beautiful in world is pen and colours. A musician is also an artist and musicians are definitely not jobless” Ibk said and Nifemi smiled.

Of all the beauty, hers was the most divine. Her purple eyes gleamed with her grey armor as she rose from the ashes, did her purple gaze shine with her tears or her enemy’s blood? They were afraid to call her by her name……. Athena. I am Athena Raven Lark, and this is my Story.

“YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO, YOU TRUNK OF A MAN!” A low, sinister chuckle leaves his lips at my lame insult, his wide shoulders shaking slowly at the motion. “My name is Santino Ricca.”

I asked snapping my fingers to our Sketch artist “ I can try” she mumbled I talked to the doctor as she explained to the artist what she remembers about the 5 men. The doctor said he only saw claw marks like this one other time in his life. Once he was done drawing he showed me the pictures and none of them I recognized “ Hey guys, I heard what happened, is everyone okay??!” Charlotte yelled through the infirmary heading towards the room. So much from keeping it from her “ Why do you have a drawing of my brother?” She asked to take the pad from me. I looked at her confused for a moment because I remember her telling me about her saying something about her siblings dying.

"Such an honour to meet you, Athena. My name is Malcolm." ***

"And what's the name of your piece miss?" "Seasons, it was my final project at school and surprisingly it did really well," I said and they snapped their fingers. "But please, Laid Down and Bold Rest are extremely amazing, go check them out," I said and they left. "Professional artist? Featured here? You?" Michael asked and I cocked my head to the side. "Surprisingly I really thought you'd have tabs on me this entire time," I said crossing my arms over my chest. "Guess I was fooling myself."

He must have taken ten to twelve days to draw this masterpiece. '' How did you understand whether a man or woman drew this?'' Noir asked. '' It's simple for him,'' Christina comments standing beside Robin. Noir was on the other hand. '' He can distinguish painting whether it's drawn by a man or a woman.'' '' You have quite a talent don't you?'' Noir compliments. Robin was feeling embarrassed by all that compliment. They walked inside further. It was then Robin heard the name of Angela. He has been a huge fan of hers for a while. But he was never able to tell anyone about it.

It was just simply unimaginable for him. “Affirmative, Maru.” Madame Ais replied. The eloquence earlier was no more and her words reverted once more to its mechanical answers. “Is there someone stronger than a level 10 cultivator, Madame Ais?” Maru continued to ask. His thirst for knowledge was awakened with the uncertainty he felt during their discussion. “Affirmative, Maru. Above level 10 cultivators are the Makers. They can create realms and design it at will.” Madame Ais responded.

So disrespectful. I scowl at the side where I see lipstick sign on the paper, Ainsley must have kissed it. Disgusting. The note says, “Dear Arthur, my love. I’m sorry I can’t be in school to keep you company, as I am down with fever. My mother said it’s because I’m getting close to my mate, ‘wink wink’. I’m going to miss you Arthur, but don’t miss me too much, I’ll be in school tomorrow. Love, Ainsley.”

When I pushed open the heavy glass door of the Nightshade Tattoo Studio, the wind chime above it rang out in a crisp cascade of sound. Henry Kane sat on a tall stool behind the workstation, wearing a black mask as he lowered his head and sketched. The air-conditioning ran cold inside the shop, carrying a faint blend of disinfectant and sharp tobacco. It was an unmistakable scent that belonged only to him. At the sound, he did not even look up; only the pencil in his hand paused for a brief moment.