𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 ,.

prologue one.

y/n soleil bernard.
✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Saccharine sorrows, felicity's cosmos filled the house of the man. He was just getting ready for his small escapade to the beach. The man was rather exhausted from his work: Lamina Haven for Magical Creatures. Yes, that's right magical creatures. The world of wizards and witches also existed in his. Stardust and remnants of the galaxy above scattered around the ivory clouds of his mind; him reminiscing his home. A smile appeared on his rosy lips, him concurrently mixing the pie batter he was making.

Aspen Bernard danced and sang ( more like screamed ) to the lyrics of the melodies coming out from his radio that sat in the near corner; felicity dancing through his veins. Curls of jet-black hair bounced lazily over his forehead that was wrinkled due to the painted grin on his features. Bright green eyes shone from the resplendent luster of the sun; a kaleidoscope of a forest scattered his very own irises.

Continuous ballads flowed within the pulchritudinous atmosphere of the cottage, not a single disturbance occurred. Soft songs of birds, whispers of the wind were the only ones present. Aromas of florets sneakily passed through the windows, almost kissing the man's face with its subtle petals.

Loud roars of wind echoed as if saying 'Aspen' yet it was a mere fantasy.

Seeing as his pie was already ready, he placed it in the oven ( setting the timer to 30 minutes ) and set down his plaid gloves, yet they call it 'oven mitts', down the counter; and set off to the warmth of his abode.

The archaic structures of his house gleamed and awaited for another presence to come. Warmth and solace as if though painted, were scattered in every corner and wall; one not feeling any kind of discomfort. The velour and satin touch of furniture sat in every place possible; vivid yet light colours in hue with the other, that contrasted each beautifully; shelves upon shelves filled with plants, flowers, and pages filled with different worlds lined up a massive wall, decorated with sage; which always pleased the eye of many visitors and guests.

Aspen Bernrad's charm that never ceased to touch many hearts of people; that always bore kindness and serenity. Clusters and frames of paintings were displayed or either sitting in a corner; resembling one's memory that were expressed through the art of colours.

Grotesque and chaotic masterpieces also were present in the house; just like paintings with unknown structures yet the simplicity of art laced within.

A sigh escaped from the man lived in the abode, as he rest his chin to the arm of the velvet couch. Time ticked and sand from the hourglass lessened and repeated, and repeated again; until a collection of memories coruscates.

Yet a disturbance came after all.

A loud knock on the door was heard and this startled the tranquility that has been lain. Aspen quickly got up from his position and hastily made his way to the oak entrance.

Confusion spread across his mind as these little bulbs, that filled and lit up with an array of questions. Were Ambrose and Flora; his parents, here? Obviously not, because they would've sent him a letter, regarding their visit if they did. One of his friends? Maybe.

Shaking these thoughts away, he cautiously opened the door and awaited for the presence that was supposed to be in front of him.

But the last thing he saw was the sound of apparition? He knew that was the sound because he's done it for umpteenth times. A mass of dark black hair vanished and was whispered to the nothingness.