Atarah
Beauty isn't just a word. Beauty is an emotion. What you look is barely a physical appearance but what resides inside you is real beauty. But that evening, beauty had a face. Beauty had a frame. Beauty had a name. Ansel Duncan.
Dressed in a dark suit with white ironed shirt underneath; his hair combed back elegantly. His shoes had replaced his war booths and instead of his sabre, he had a small knife. His dark eyes were as soft as the flowing river, so lively, so gorgeous that I felt myself losing in them. Truly, beauty was an emotion. He looked no less than an art, carved by the richest artist up in the other realm.
"Well, thank you, my crown. Your words make me feel like I'm a God." Ansel's words spoke softly as he jumped down his horse carriage, making my heart to hammer ins
