Stick together. Be together. Stay together.
That was what she's meant to do. Be a perfect little doll. Created to stay by his side, to do whatever he needs her to do.
Stick together. Be together. Stay together.
Be a perfect doll. Perfect. Perfect...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
The night had passed and daylight rose. A wave of relief wash over me. The night was filled with nothing but silence and for that I'm almost thankful. Almost.
I normally would've exploded with joy for the silence but with Paris and Polakov around; it made me easy. I quietly came down from the attic, adjusting an old journal on my palm.
I had to leave my book back up, just so Paris wouldn't snatch it away again.
Quietly creeping through the halls of the workshop, I already took notice of the absence of anyone inside. Neither Paris, Polakov, or even Ivan was around it seems. I let out a hum, walking toward a chair to write.
The clock chimed. It was already eight thirty am. My fingers tap against the hard cover of the journal. Wondering what should I write this time.
Adventure? No, too much excitement. Romance? Already done that, maybe another time. Ah ! Perhaps comedy ! Never mind scratch that idea, its far to early to let out a laugh.
Another mental blockage. How many writers block had I gone through already ?! My hands has been itching to write something. Brows furrow in disappointment.
Yet again, I could never seem to write another dialogue or poem.
The birds outside wondering around with their songs, a gentle morning breeze breeze through the air, and the shops slowly turning their signs letting people know that its time for them to come through.
"Finally." A smile tugs my lips as the dark line coming from the pencil continued my writing.
Too concentrated with my journal. I had to pause and listen as a sound came from the front door. A soft ding followed by the door closing then footsteps. Ivan's back.
Shrugging my shoulders, I place a period on my poem, ending it. Satisfied by the outcome of the paragraphs I made.
" Hm ?" His hum bounce around the room, Ivan' soft smile gaze back at me. The coat on his arm neatly folded. " Good morning Y/n."
"Good morning Ivan." I greeted back, crossing one leg on top of the other. He merely nodded and placed his coat away while I turned back at the journal. What if I made another poem. My fingers twitch at that, eager to write again.
Sadly, I had to tuck away the idea as Ivan came walking toward my direction and a sense of embarrassment washed over me.
