[ 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴 ]
'* . ° " i waited for hundreds
of years, only to feel
unsatisfied of this
love we force to feel. " ° . *'
𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 celeste waited for th...
; August 1702, Transylvania - 90 yrs. old (from her real birth, a month after her birthday)
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NICCEL & MORRENTIC ovi. | ' i will die ' ______________________
SUMMER. CELESTE'S SUMMER is once again cold, quiet, and eerie. Exactly two years ago since she last saw Nicolas, she had missed his meals, his smiles, his choking laugh. And of course, his hardheadedness, all of his stubborn antics, his dramatics whenever they see a guy looking at her across the street.
His constant support for her passion for books, even though she had appointed someone to take care of it, she knew that Nicolas would insist of helping no matter how old he is. She smiled at the thought of her father figure... they act like best friends, support like a fan, and worry like there is no tomorrow.
Nicolas is the family that Celeste longed for.
She reached out for her quill and stared at the parchment she laid on her table. It is nine in the morning, the sun is no where to be found and she slowly had seen the difference of her skin color from before. She's even much pale now.
The numbness she felt is succumbing her slowly ever since that night... after she had brewed that wretched potion. It wasn't even stated that she would feel like her insides were being tied into a knot while doing so.
It is literally twisted. Even the other girls couldn't go past the third step, and Celeste continued until she finished it and it emitted the smoke that took shape of a skull.
Ivanoff was fascinated, however she wasn't. She had the worst night of her life and a whole month of vomiting once a day, she had never felt so weak before. The Headmistress explained that she is only the five people who was able to brew the potion properly since it takes a lot of toll on people.
Only three were recorded was Herpo the Foul (the creator), Morgana Le Fay, and Marcus Ollivander-who brewed for the government as a drink for the criminals. Marcus died when his own son who did not support the views had slipped it to one of his meals, ever since, the Ollivanders only continued in Wandmaking and became Wandkeepers.
Celeste sighed as her mind refused to be of any use for the day. As if she has gone mad, and she didn't like it. Her nose crumpled in thinking that she had changed already, she hated such changes.
Dropping the quill, she opened her desk drawer and pulled out a square wooden box. Traced her fingers on the embossed text on the cover. Written in Nicolas' handwriting. It is a black wooden box who had simple swirls of silver on the sides, and a small lock that did not require a key, yet it required a password from her.
Niccel
"I will die living my life," she whispered, the click of the lock is what had told her that it had opened. Tears had pooled her eyes as she felt longing, it had been a month ago since she last wrote something for him.
