"will you let me play with you, your mind, your body?"
***
She was compelled to marry a man she did not know. Except that her deceased parents had enough reliance on him to protect her from her parent's past. Zathrian, that is what they called him...
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"Anastiza!" The once placid atmosphere was broken by a loud familiar dulcet voice that echoed freely throughout the capacious palace.
I ignored the voice and slapped the book I was holding previously- to my face and pushed it so that I was completely lying on the many hundreds of piles of comfy comforters.
I have made my own reading corner just under the stairs. I would have appreciated the feeling if it were not for her voice.
Reading was and still is a haven for me. A way to escape reality.
The reason why I love this place-the library.
It is only a small part of the palace, located at its very peak.
The light flows freely along with the dome of the place, dancing around each shelf, Renaissance paintings of angels color the ceiling.The dome of high windows stretches throughout the sky at the rear of the library. The windows closeted the red-carpeted escalier with intricate designs that extended through the higher floor.
every time I stepped forth through the large doors that encage the books inside, my heart begins to dance and butterflies float around my stomach.
I was grateful to be able to see such art every single day.
Closing my eyes, I let out an exasperated sigh. She is here again. My grandmother.
Suddenly, The recognizable rhythmic click of heels resonated throughout the big hall of the library. The sound was much prominent with my eyes shut.
"Do not pretend to be asleep. I know you are not."
"I am not pretending to be asleep" I muttered irritatingly, opening my eyes.
And there she was, My grandmother, She loomed over me, hands on her hips and the other on her golden cane.
Wearing her black, strappy, thigh-high slit dress and her black stilettos, her eyebrows were raised probably as high as the library windows. Her face held a mix of authority and expectation from me, Staring at me intently.
She is the sort of lady that makes you want to step out of her way when you see her on the street. Her manner was rigid, and her posture was always upright; she never slouched.
She was not a particularly affectionate person. She did not need to be.
"Brielle Anastazi Massoulleve" Her French accent seeping into her authorative voice.
She is yet another invisible person in this house, out of all of the people. I still felt alone.
"Is something the matter Nana?" I sacracstically batted my eyelashes, gaining a bored look from her.
I knew full well of what she was about to ramble about. Yet I still make such effort to spite her.
