❥︎𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼❥︎
To students of Trinity Academy, Kam is the golden boy with an infectious personality and larger-than-life charisma. Asa is the ice witch with a frozen heart and an air of cold mystery about h...
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mєdíα : "σtw" вч khαlíd ft 6lαck & tч dσllα ѕígn
Kam
━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━ "
Youhaveonlyonelife
Butifyoudoitright,
Onelifeisallyouneed." ━
━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━
The first time I saw Asa, it had been in the school library, an ancient room that filled you with vellichor when you wander into the old, dark, forgotten parts where the older books from the era before the war, were kept. High bookshelves, stacked with books of every kind, written, papered and bound so that we could drink from its knowledge.
The library was huge, looking both modern and vintage and there was a coolness and tranquility you get, just walking into it, especially into the dark, forgotten parts, far away from human civilisation, with rattan chairs and dusty frayed couches.
This was Asa's abode that offered her an escape from the outside world, as if entering into a portal, where only books existed.
I had seen her here for the first time last year. Amir, who was with me, showing me around, since I was the new kid, had been staring at her with an undecipherable, almost longing, expression on his face. And I had followed his line of vision and gasped. Deciding she was the single most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
She looked almost plastic, wearing an immaculately white baby doll dress that stopped a few inches above her knees, snow white stockings and black little flats. Her hair was tied up in a tight ponytail, exposing more of her fresh faced beauty.
She was beautiful... But not in the common sense. She was beautiful the way certain dark things were beautiful. Enchanting. Intoxicating. Alluring. There was something both delicately mysterious and powerfully attractive about her that made you want to stare and stare and stare. Like the glowing moon or a blossoming flower.
I had gasped and stopped and stared. Amir looked at me.
"Who's that?" I had asked.
"Oh, that?" He had said, in his usual indifferent manner, relaxed shoulders, hands shoved in his pocket, exuding cool nonchalance. "The witch."
