"Would you kill for love?" He sneered coldly.
"Love has destroyed me into the woman who stands before you. Broken, tethered, and utterly infatuated with a man who suffers the same fate as I." She said with a sorrowful chuckle.
•
The story of a naiv...
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1996
Astoria stood by the Black Lake in a mixed of emotions. All at once she felt bold, scared, curious and another emotion she could not quite fathom. She walked out onto the nearby dock and conjured herself a canvas. She needed to explain to herself what she was feeling. Her brush would always guide her thoughts along the blank canvas.
Astoria, with her paints in hand, her brush between her teeth, stared at the white board in front of her. She glared at the edges and thought, "Where to begin?" She dipped her brush in a grey color and began to sway across the canvas.
After several attempts to quit, quick glances at the giant squid and almost throwing the canvas into the black later, Astoria finally finished. It had been the first painting she produced in months and she felt her emotions steady.
When Astoria was younger her mother would paint portraits of young women. She told her, "A woman's body is of the uttermost beauty, and with enough hope, the uttermost confidence." Astoria desired to paint as her mother. To only see the beauty of what lied before her. However, Astoria painted what she felt in the moment. Her art always reflected her emotion. If her head was clouded her paintings were grey, blue and black. If she was elated, her paintings entailed lots of blues and yellows.
Astoria took a step back and regarded her creation. It was of a landscape of a place she had never been with the sun peaking through the grey clouds. She could see the village peering through the side of the bridge. It looked like a small town that would stay hidden beneath the stars and clouds in the countryside of England. No one bothers them. A peaceful town where everyone knows one another. A solace place to paint everyday on the bridge with the sun beaming down. As Astoria looked at the painting more, she grew angry with thinking about possibilities of where she could live. She needed desperately to stop daydreaming of how she wanted her life to be. As she grabbed hold of the canvas to dispose of it in the like she heard someone speak from behind her.
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"That looks nice."
Malfoy must have crept up behind her when she was thinking to herself and not worry about the rest of the world. She set the canvas back on the easel and let out a low chuckle.
