Elizebeth blinked, eyes trained on Jack. She's never seen her uncle; the north king. He was massive, tall, and buff like a polar bear. Maybe because he has mixed blood, the wreck of masculinity. That might be the reason for his rough behavior.
Her eyes then trailed around the empty feeling of the room. It was white. Everything around her was nothing but whiteness. From the environment, landscape, outer design, and interior design. It made her crazy. It provoked her past trauma. The pure color has tainted her, wounded her body in a process.
White is a wicked color. A witch. A madness. Her brain buzzed with a lot of previous encounters. It provoked her Olivia Spencer persona.
White was a clean color.
It was also the color of lunacy.
"I have nostalgia for things I probably have never known." She condemned the innocent surroundings with her cold gaze. "To Elizebeth, I guess."
