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Bloody Escaping
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Every passing second escalated his number of paces, and times his heart skipped a darn beat. Killian D'Arcy was unsettled — so verily troubled that the grayness of his hair dulled, bottom lip — constantly been chomped upon by the upper bleeding slightly, and eyes shaking unstably in their sockets. For a being that has lived for over 40 years, his system experienced this unwanted sensation twice. Once in Europe, and now, in his very own library in his mansion. This place was his sanctuary — his heaven. However, a demon; one so vile, and insidious that it's a task to tear a gaze from. She bore a name — Macbeth fucking Ford, and to God Killian hated her with every fiber in his being. Like a hurricane, she twirled aggressively yet so calmly into his abode and left — elegant, composed but caused so much damage. His family was in shambles. His apprehensive round of pacing came to a halt once quickened footsteps echoed in his ears, and with a head swerved, Killian beheld a maid. Her g
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As the sun's resplendent beams descended ceaselessly on the inhabitants of the beautiful Italian city, Milan basked in the little warmth it provided. Milan, a canvas of elegance for such a long time, has been continuously snow kissed by the early snows of the morning, and late noon became the sole opportunity the sun had to creep into the sky.Among the innumerable things, and beings its rays blessed, a group of undeniably distinguished individuals were involved. Regardless of the presence of a curved glass dome over their heads, the distant sounds of planes passing by draw her attention.“Wow…” Her head got lifted to the high glass ceiling, and her pair of green eyes managed to catch a glimpse of a jet soring past the sky. Debby was certain that it was the fifth jet slicing through the air within merely half an hour since she arrived at the five-star restaurant — Paradiso Terrestre with her family. “I wonder how far your jaw is going to drop once you see how many people are atten
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He was covered with more than blood. The prickling, hurtful sensation gliding throughout his body due to the presence of countless pieces of glass scattered everywhere on him eventually got noticed. The rush of adrenaline during his escape has faded, giving space for the appearance of agony. Tony looked fucked. His mere breathing sounded overly tortuous, and the prominent veins crawling all over his bloody skin got urged by pain. “Shit…” A low cuss erupted from his lips once his shaky fingers reached for possibly, and hopefully, the last piece of glass — a large chunk of it penetrating deeply in the elbow of his right hand. Under the deserted bridge, and during the early hours of such a wintry day, the sole, detestable individual bearing the notable Williams family name — Tony could be seen seated, heavily enervated on the dirty ground. Roughly, half a day elapsed after the once-in-a-lifetime twist of fate; that occurrence was downright unexpected. Regardless of the pains sur
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There was an unending smell in the air. It forced itself way deep into his nostrils and possibly into hers. It was sharp. Pungent. It was…“Fuel…?” As the tires of the car rolled over the graveled road, past the towering building and under the moon's lights, Tony, helpless to the smell he inhaled, muttered with an arched eyebrow. A canvas of uneasiness was painted on his face, with a bead of sweat snaking down his bandaged forehead — the giant chauffeur saw it. He stylishly glanced at him through the rare view mirror, then focused wholly on driving. “You've always looked shitty but today, you're more appealing.” A scrawl fell from her lips as her eyes remained on his clenched, trembling fists placed on his thighs. Something was terribly wrong with Tony, yet Mary considered that preposterous — why should any sane being act nervous after drowning in such bliss for the past days?Yes, the dark eyed once believed she'd pass the remnants of her days locked in a squalid cell but miracul
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Once her pair of feet ascended the last step which led to the highly revered stage of the Teatro alla Scala, her brown eyes shone brighter than a single star at midnight. Maria visibly was… Flabbergasted — so happily, tearfully flabbergasted. She wasn't the only one, too. As the Soloists and Principal Dancers needed for the Nut Bowl stepped onto the stage, each was evidently enveloped by the utter majesty of the stage. A stage where they'd perform in due time, and the HeadMistress, in charge of familiarizing them with it, helplessly smiled at their untamed display of amazement. However, as her attention moved from one dumbfounded individual to the other, Angelica's eyes fell on the Prima Ballerina then she sighed. “Oh Tessa!” While the rest moved across the stage, still soaking in its ethereal beauty, the stern Italian woman moved to the prized, overly talented yet… Saddened soloist. Unlike the rest, Tessa's portrayal of awe was short-lived since it took no less than some second
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Memories poured into her mind in multitudes, and re-opening them, balls of tears snuck out then gilded slowly down her cheeks. “I wished never to be back here again but… Here I am.” Most ballet dancers would kill to step foot onto the stage of this neoclassical architectural masterpiece, and the passion which flamed it all had gone out in hers. The situation has changed — she has changed. Well, that was a few years ago. Tessa stared from the posh empty seats, curves of ornate balconies and boxes, then gaped longingly at the section for dignitaries. Adorned finely by crimson luster velvety and gold leaf, she chomped hard on her lips mere picturing her parents, and loved ones occupying it. Thousands were going to attend the Nut Bowl — thousands were going to be watching her with jaws dropped, stupor, and reverberation. Yet, it'll all be insignificant and downright unnatural if the one responsible for reigniting her fiery desire to dance once more isn't… Present. Tessa's gaze fell
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Parting her thickened wet eyelashes, the beams of the moonlight seeping through the large framed window kissed her face as she sighed. So slowly, she properly began showering with mind torn between two unsettling topics — Doreen's absence and Francess' presence. No… It would've been swell if the two ballet dancers didn't meet — ever again. Back then — their past, although unresolved, wasn't so hurting Tessa; it was never this bad. Confrontations were a lethal catalyst; she assumed leaving Europe would prevent the scene that occurred a few hours ago but….“I should've never started dancing. Fuck!” Slamming her hand hard on the glass walls encasing her, frustration morphed into liquid, took the place of blood in her veins and circulated unwantingly yet unceasingly in her entire being. Back then, guilt was always beside her — making living hard, but gingerly, Tessa realized better than any she didn't feel guilty. She felt stupid for befriending the brown haired — Francesca D'Arcy on
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The few days spent — alone in the ancient of Milan entailed crisp air, and bone chilling winds. It always got freezing cold whenever night befall the beautiful city, and regardless of the hotness the heater of her suite provided, warmth clothing, and lengthy soak in hot baths, cold unceasingly engulfed her whole being. Tessa assumed she'd choicelessly, and all so adversely, grow accustomed to it, but… The good Lord answered her prayers. With arms thrown on his broad shoulders, fingers entwined — locked around his nape, and legs coiled over his torso, their bodies had no space between them. Basking in a bottomless ocean of comfort, Tessa certainly has never felt this…cozy before!“I'm fucking glad I'm here…” His words, whispered closely to her ear, had its accompanying warmth dissolving every ounce of chill in the bones, then wrapped itself so comfortingly around her heart. Not even the fireplace, residing beside them with its burning glow, could be equal to her beloved's warmth.
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