Inspiration.
Normally, she drew it directly from the very depths of her soul, infected by darkness. It was so easy to compose poems about death and darkness that, for a very long time, Lucy was known in her goth club as an artist.
Except that there's been a sort of minor problem with his inspiration lately.
The young woman with dark hair sat cross-legged on her bed, her notebook of poems on her knees, her palms supporting her face twisted with concentration as ideas swarmed in her head.
Suffering, I bear it to excess, I am but a puppet of fate who…
Suddenly, a slightly too vivid image of herself laughing with her lover made its way into her mind, which raced, now showing him and her giggling in a field of flowers.
Naturally exhausted by the very nature of her thoughts, which had now become too romantic, Lucy let her face fall onto the white page of her notebook while letting out a plaintive moan, similar to a kitten meowing sadly.
No matter how much she loves her brother, Lucy never imagined that this wonderful feeling could cause her such immense trouble. Of course, she's not complaining about being in love. No, what she wants is to get her act together with the part of her brain that's sending her these macabre inspirations so she can place an order.
This problem is starting to worry her friend Haiku, who had asked her why her most talented goth girl lacks inspiration.
Lincoln himself wasn't aware of it. Not that Lucy blamed him for what was happening to her, but at the same time, she wondered how he would react if he learned that their shared love was preventing her from writing her poems. He would surely offer to help her, as any good knight would upon seeing his queen in difficulty. Did she want that? Honestly, she hesitated, unsure how to present the problem without giving the impression that their relationship was the direct cause.
Another thing that, of course, drives her a little crazy is the fact that all her happy thoughts don't bother her as much as she'd like. After living for so long admiring the darkness, it's disconcerting to see that being exposed to the light doesn't frighten her.
Something rings within her, a bell releasing its gentle beats that resonate in her heart.
"Maybe …"
Taking her pencil, she began to write a few lines. Rereading what she had just done, Lucy began to giggle softly, then let out a long laugh as she fell back onto her pillow.
I spent my life believing that there was nothing but zeros, then one day I saw someone I could be a good match for, no longer wanting to be left out, I decided to go and get the right number.