She stood staring at the countertop, for several minutes her mind had begun to get unbearably high. Part of the young woman was trying to believe that Geon had never really said whether or not he knew about what happened to Artemisia, even before she was "born," it had said only a small omission, nothing that was important enough that it could hurt or give that nagging feeling of being deceived. On the other hand, the other voice that screamed in Artemisia's mind said how much she would have been spared from all that misfortune, would not have freed her from more than twenty years of such agony, but would have saved her long enough for the young woman to understand everything that had happened and had happened. She could taste the bitter taste of betrayal, that pungent thing that stuck to her taste buds and stayed there until the young woman went mad with so much bitterness. She wanted to believe that it would give the final card of her insanity, finally letting what was supposed to
"I was hoping this time it would work." Geon said as the shadows danced around the fireplace. Artemisia looked at the demon with a raised eyebrow, it was not impressive to the young woman that it had happened more times than she would have liked—that at the moment, within the will of the young woman, the amount of times her soul could possess people and kill the owners of the bodies was faithfully clinging to zero—but it was still a little curious to think that perhaps that possession had been the one that had worked out the best. Even if it was a slightly vague definition of what "getting it right" is. If Helleborus hoped to have one more chance at life, run through green fields in the spring, and remain reclusive in the arms of a loving family during the winter, Artemisia felt a little sad to give her the bad answer about the woman's choices. "What happened to the other times?" Artemisia asked as she shrunk her legs until she could hug them. The cold was beginning to affect the
The rest of the day Artemisia remained only immersed in her own thoughts, especially after discovering that one of the culprits of her current state is dead. The young woman really wanted to feel guilty for killing someone. Well, she felt guilty, but for that particular someone, Artemisia couldn't feel any twinges of kindness or empathy. An old subject? Yes, but the pain did not age, it renewed itself again and again, remaining fresh. It was only because the young woman couldn't feel guilty for killing the woman, she was still trying to figure out how the hell she had done that, since it was supposed to be for Hyacinth to be immortal, from earth to earth, being in a vicious circle of life.As she pulled the covers so she could warm herself from the cold that was beginning to stick to Artemisia's bones, she could feel that there was so much more to it. How would she kill such an old being, when even Death herself couldn't do that? Artemisia didn't know much of that world she had been
To the young woman's surprise, that point of darkness at the botanical fair was not a stall, in fact it was the façade of a flower shop. It didn't look like a flower shop, the dark colors and faded designs gave the impression that this shop was abandoned or that it was an old tallow, which was shattering over time. Artemisia stood for a good few minutes admiring that black blur in the midst of so much light and color. The storefront somehow reminded the young woman of herself, perhaps for the colors and the more old-fashioned style. "Maybe because you don't belong there." Again, those voices spoke deep in the young woman's mind, teasing her to make something happen. Something she had no idea what it might be, but given the illusions, or events, that had intensified morbidly over the past two days. Either way, she decided to ignore that voice, just as she had been doing since the second time she heard it — or at least trying to ignore it. "Don't be offended by witches," a female
Artemisia leaned her body against the chair entirely, the truth hurting more than she could have imagined. She could tell that the stages of grief hit her too fast, so the young woman was already in anger. An outsized hatred of herself. Artemisia knew it was deadly, she saw her father die, the nannies die, the plants, the animals. It was clear as the day that it was her curse, but knowing it was so painful that it made the young woman want to vomit up all the sweets she had eaten. Suddenly something hit her too, a memory that involved stories. It was almost like a blur, but if Artemisia tried hard, she could understand that it had been a dream, a strange and a little disjointed dream. In it were three books, each of which bore a strange memory of the young woman. The first was a debt, of this she remembered better than the others, the second was pure pain, the same pain she had felt when Leonore opened that book of leather red as blood. The young woman raised her face looking towa
Her parents didn't know her anymore. There weren't many people who had that bad luck, so the girl expected it to be like that anyway. Her parents, her sisters, her closest cousins, they didn't know her. Not a little bit, nothing about her. What could the girl do? There was nothing interesting to know. — On that night, when the Moon is present and when the stars carry their light, we are here to unite this couple who have been united by the Spirits of Love! She looked forward to the white marble altar decorated with a beautiful wine carpet and beautiful red carnations. A sigh came out silently from her lips as she passed the gloved fingertip over the lace of the dress. — Since the sun was present and the Moon became mother and guardian, we have all been blessed and embraced by your light and warmth! — the hand wrinkled by the priestess's age raised a crystal cup containing the red liquid of the ceremony. The butterflies surrounded the altar, doing a beautiful dance o
Artemísia woke up again in that damn room. The walls were covered with ivy and they were moving higher, the curtains were the same as when i was awake and the only thing that differentiated was that there were only ivys, windows, curtains and the bed where Artemisia was lying. The strong smell of beladona almost intoxicated her, it was as if she was chewing on one of its poisonous fruits and enjoying her pre-mortem moment. The girl closed her eyes and put her hand on her chest feeling the fabric of the sweater she wore hours before, lace and sweat that tickled her fingers whenever she wore. She began to imagine pink butterflies or some other flower appearing in the room, wanted to be able to visualize in her mind small fairies, but the girl knew she did not have enough imagination for that. It's not like she expected much of her own dream, close to her sisters, Artemisia looked like a hollow shell. No enough talent or imagination to create your own talent, depending on the garden to
There was no other dream after Artemisia returned to sleep, only the warm and silent darkness. In the morning he woke up with a crow pecking at the window, making the annoying sound echo through the room. With a lot of name-calling, taken directly from a tavern, the girl opened the damn window and cursed further when the animal flew away. Sighing irritated, the blonde began to take off her sweater and underwear. He didn't care much if some maid was going to show up, which was commonly happening. In the first week the girl was uncomfortable and curious as to why the maids always came into the room in the morning, sometimes Artemisia just wanted to get naked watching the sunrise. But it didn't take long to figure out it was a mansion rule. The girl didn't ask much about the rule, as her great aunt had been found in the morning. Maybe she'd be dead too. After a cold and time-consuming bath, a good makeup to hide how terrible it was, Artemisia came down to the kitchen praying that t
Artemisia leaned her body against the chair entirely, the truth hurting more than she could have imagined. She could tell that the stages of grief hit her too fast, so the young woman was already in anger. An outsized hatred of herself. Artemisia knew it was deadly, she saw her father die, the nannies die, the plants, the animals. It was clear as the day that it was her curse, but knowing it was so painful that it made the young woman want to vomit up all the sweets she had eaten. Suddenly something hit her too, a memory that involved stories. It was almost like a blur, but if Artemisia tried hard, she could understand that it had been a dream, a strange and a little disjointed dream. In it were three books, each of which bore a strange memory of the young woman. The first was a debt, of this she remembered better than the others, the second was pure pain, the same pain she had felt when Leonore opened that book of leather red as blood. The young woman raised her face looking towa
To the young woman's surprise, that point of darkness at the botanical fair was not a stall, in fact it was the façade of a flower shop. It didn't look like a flower shop, the dark colors and faded designs gave the impression that this shop was abandoned or that it was an old tallow, which was shattering over time. Artemisia stood for a good few minutes admiring that black blur in the midst of so much light and color. The storefront somehow reminded the young woman of herself, perhaps for the colors and the more old-fashioned style. "Maybe because you don't belong there." Again, those voices spoke deep in the young woman's mind, teasing her to make something happen. Something she had no idea what it might be, but given the illusions, or events, that had intensified morbidly over the past two days. Either way, she decided to ignore that voice, just as she had been doing since the second time she heard it — or at least trying to ignore it. "Don't be offended by witches," a female
The rest of the day Artemisia remained only immersed in her own thoughts, especially after discovering that one of the culprits of her current state is dead. The young woman really wanted to feel guilty for killing someone. Well, she felt guilty, but for that particular someone, Artemisia couldn't feel any twinges of kindness or empathy. An old subject? Yes, but the pain did not age, it renewed itself again and again, remaining fresh. It was only because the young woman couldn't feel guilty for killing the woman, she was still trying to figure out how the hell she had done that, since it was supposed to be for Hyacinth to be immortal, from earth to earth, being in a vicious circle of life.As she pulled the covers so she could warm herself from the cold that was beginning to stick to Artemisia's bones, she could feel that there was so much more to it. How would she kill such an old being, when even Death herself couldn't do that? Artemisia didn't know much of that world she had been
"I was hoping this time it would work." Geon said as the shadows danced around the fireplace. Artemisia looked at the demon with a raised eyebrow, it was not impressive to the young woman that it had happened more times than she would have liked—that at the moment, within the will of the young woman, the amount of times her soul could possess people and kill the owners of the bodies was faithfully clinging to zero—but it was still a little curious to think that perhaps that possession had been the one that had worked out the best. Even if it was a slightly vague definition of what "getting it right" is. If Helleborus hoped to have one more chance at life, run through green fields in the spring, and remain reclusive in the arms of a loving family during the winter, Artemisia felt a little sad to give her the bad answer about the woman's choices. "What happened to the other times?" Artemisia asked as she shrunk her legs until she could hug them. The cold was beginning to affect the
She stood staring at the countertop, for several minutes her mind had begun to get unbearably high. Part of the young woman was trying to believe that Geon had never really said whether or not he knew about what happened to Artemisia, even before she was "born," it had said only a small omission, nothing that was important enough that it could hurt or give that nagging feeling of being deceived. On the other hand, the other voice that screamed in Artemisia's mind said how much she would have been spared from all that misfortune, would not have freed her from more than twenty years of such agony, but would have saved her long enough for the young woman to understand everything that had happened and had happened. She could taste the bitter taste of betrayal, that pungent thing that stuck to her taste buds and stayed there until the young woman went mad with so much bitterness. She wanted to believe that it would give the final card of her insanity, finally letting what was supposed to
“Oh, you are here.” The demon spoke when he finally saw the young man in the middle of the living room. "I went to let Leonore know we're here, I wouldn't want to have an angry witch running after me." He turned away from the window, heading towards the couch.There were a few suitcases occupying the piece of furniture, Artemisia was quick to recognize them as they were the same ones she had used when moving into the mansion, theoretically several weeks earlier, in what would have been the beginning of spring.The young woman wanted to laugh about it, minutes after listening to the creature's whole lecture about the weather, she would be seeing the suitcases she had used to store some things before leaving her mother's house, it would be winter again, as it had been a season before.“I'll prepare lunch for you, apparently your body can't go too long without food. Try to find something warm to wear, Leonore's clan is looking for what could have caused this regretful winter.” Geon said
Maybe having followed that entity was a bad idea, but giving up in the middle of that situation seemed a bit extreme to do. Artemisia looked at the white immensity as she walked with that being, each step made her regret her decision even more, it was a bad choice.And then there was the fact that she was the one who wanted to find out more about the family curse, abandoning that would be an extremely shameful sign of cowardice. The only one to blame for being in that situation was Artemisia, the creature being there or not was just a curious part of the consequence.“You've heard his whole story, haven't you?” a creature asked as they stopped in front of a flower bed full of tulips."Yes." The young woman smiled, looking closely at the small flowers that grew amidst the blanket of snow. She had heard of these things before, flowers that bloomed during the winter, growing through the snow and into the dim sunlight. Artemisia didn't know how to explain it very well, but that vision ma
The moment Artemisia left that eye-filled place, the cold of the sudden winter hit her like an arrow. The whole green field that the young woman had seen through the window was now a white immensity. The story Tinea told her the day before sounded again, all over again, it was already starting to irritate Artemisia. She just wanted to live miserably well, she didn't want to have to go through it all and know that when she finally got rid of that life, the young woman's soul would still beg for death for the last life. She could be absolutely sure that everything would be repeated again, from the days in the snow to begging an immortal woman for the gift of being reborn. The young woman looked for somewhere to sit, some corner that wasn't fully covered in snow, which was a somewhat impossible request. The white robe doubled in size with each passing minute, Artemisia could feel the skirt start to get hard and icy, no longer able to have the same movements as a normal skirt. But she w
If someone told Artemisia that one day she would wake up in the middle of winter, she would believe it. Which might be surprising, but even then, the young woman would trust the words of the person she told her that. It didn't need to explain in more detail, to say how one day the sun burned and the next day it was cold as a curse, the young woman would believe it. It was funnier that way. What's more, so many things had happened to the young woman that this would be just another normal day. Artemisia was willing to ask Geon again if he was hiding anything from her, it was clear as a crystal, at the moment the night before she had asked the demon, his expression could not be the best. Something inside the young woman said he was lying. She could call it something over-suspicious, perhaps. Artemisia went to sleep with Tinea's voice explaining to her about the flower that insisted on keeping in her life, but carrying an extensive secret like an apron, the young woman also woke up he