Ethereal Mortal {DISCONTINUED}

CHAPTER I

"Father, do all children have mothers?"

The man, seeming to be in his late 40's, looked at his daughter. One would think they look exactly alike. Both have silky black hair, fair skin and the same striking blue eyes.

Even for him, he dare say his daughter is the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. His gruff manly stature is nothing compared to her soft features. As if that couldn't get any better, her personality is that of the kindest and gracefulness of a goddess. She is simply perfect, as her father had planned to raise her.

She looked at him this time, beautiful curious eyes piercing through his. Noticing that he had stared too long at his daughter, he cleared his throat to answer her question. "At some point of one's life, a mother is present."

His daughter cocked her head to the side and bit her inner cheek nervously. She wondered if it was fine to ask her next question. She had been curious for a long time now, she only worried about what her father might feel.

"Where is my mother?" Silence filled the room for quite a bit. Her father doesn't seem particularly shocked nor upset about the question, but the silence seemed scarier for her.

The wind blew through the curtains, effectively blowing away the papers in front of her father. Both of them stood up, finally making sound in her father's study. Her father lifted his hand up to let her know not to worry about it. He walked to the papers and bent down to pick it up.

"We lost your mother a long time ago." He finally voiced out and stood after picking up the papers. He placed the papers back on his desk and went to sit beside his daughter. She stared at him expectantly and her father noticed that look. He peeled his eyes off of his daughter and stared outside the window.

Feeling her father's solemn mood, she doesn't ask and expect more. She was already satisfied to know that her mother didn't actually abandon them. She smiled at her father who was still staring away. She stood up, carefully placing the book she was reading on the coffee table.

"Father, would you like a cup of coffee?" As if finally snapping to his senses, her father turned to her. Blinking a few times, he smiled at her apogetically for spacing out. He knew her daughter immediately understood him.

"That would be delightful, pumpkin." Her father stood up and sat on his chair to continue his paperwork. Silently, his daughter slipped out of the study.

Taking in the lonelier atmosphere of the mansion's halls, she slowly walked through the clean black carpets. Although she hasn't seen any other houses than this one, she always thought the mansion was luxurious. The marbled floor was easy to clean and looked more expensive than the wooden floor of the study. However, she still liked the warmth of the wooden floors more. Basically, the color scheme of her home was black and white. It always looked regal and neutral to the eyes. She liked how the colors still seemed so beautiful, even when black and white are sometimes dull. After all, the colors were enhanced with bits of gold. The halls are filled with frames of seemingly melancholic people she didn't personally know. She memorized their names though. Living all her life in these walls, she was definitely bound to study everything that caught her eyes.

Along with the pictures, the halls showed off various vases of every color or mixture that of. The flowers, however, were always the same.  Her father had informed her that they were called black roses. She remembered in her younger days that the flowers were real, but her father had bought fake ones when she turned twelve. He said that planting those flowers were too much work.

Stepping down the stairs, she held the black railings. It had delicately intricate rose details that she loved. She always wondered who made such beautiful designs in her home. Maybe it was her father, she had thought. It was only her father that she ever saw in the house, after all.