✧𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬✧
"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫"
𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊!! 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝: July 11
Powers, weaknesses, and strengths. It's a love story, but this isn't a fairytale.
Violet...
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Violet ~ ~ ~
I love writing.
Writing allows your mind to drift into a total different place, a more peaceful and relaxing one. You can place every single one of your thoughts on a piece of paper just by the movement of your hand. You can also explore what others think and how creative they are by reading their own words on paper.
I also like to draw. Just like painting, you can create a masterpiece.
My favorite animal has always been a bird. They're allowed to be free, to fly and explore anywhere in the world they possibly want. They get to be beautiful without worrying about the judgement of others. They're perfect to draw.
That's why, whenever I see a bird, I bring out my sketchbook to draw it.
People used to call me 'Bird Girl' when I was in school. I don't care about them. I'll always be in my bird phase.
I don't purposely to try to attract them by putting food out for them. I like the surprise of waking up early and seeing one out by my window, and the eagerness to grab my sketchbook and add another bird to the collection.
It's stupid, I know. But I've been doing this since I was a kid, and it's a fun hobby.
I finish the little beck of the bird with my pencil. A House Sparrow decided to claim the branch right outside of my bedroom window, so I took it as a perfect opportunity. This type of bird is rather common, but I didn't have it in my sketchbook yet for some reason.
I admire my sketch before I hear the echoing of familiar footsteps moseying right outside of my door. It stays silent for a moment, the only sound evident being the chirping of birds and my breathing. Then, there's two knocks.
"Come in," I call out loud enough for him to hear. I close my sketchbook and place it on my nightstand along with my pencil.
"I didn't know if you were awake," Carter mumbles, closing my bedroom door with one hand and the other having a tray of food laying on it.
A smile instantly meets my face. "You actually made me breakfast?"
He lets out a small chuckle, turning towards me and walking right beside where I'm sat on the bed. "Of course I did," he hands me the tray of food.
I smile wider, placing in on my lap. I look at the scrambled eggs and pancakes, them looking to be perfectly cooked. "Thank you," I say as I pick up my fork.
He hums, and I see his eyes glued to my nightstand. I look in the direction of his gaze, my eyes flying to my sketchbook.
