"Seriously?" Astarion admonished, his voice echoing slightly off the closed walls. Petras shot him a glare.
"You have the grace of a drunken sow," Astarion continued, kicking a stray bearing back toward his brother. "As much as I hate him, I wish I was with Leon right now."
Petras scoffed, bending down to collect the bearings. "At least Leon doesn't whine as much," he muttered under his breath.
Astarion crossed his arms, his gaze shifting to Dal as she helped gather the scattered bearings. Her quiet demeanour starkly contrasted with Petras's abrasiveness, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up each piece.
"This is the last one," Dal said, holding up a ball bearing between her fingers, her voice a mix of hope and uncertainty. Petras shot her a skeptical look before his eyes returned to the bearings still littering the ground. "That’s what he promised us, right? This is the last one."
Astarion rolled his eyes, his frustration boiling over. "You can't seriously believe that?" he snapped, his voice echoing off the alley walls. "Don’t be stupid, Dal. It doesn’t matter what we do or what we steal; he’s never letting us go."
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I'm so not normal about the fact, that in any other pairing Zemo would be the "a little bit older, a black leather jacket" type, but in winterbaron dynamic… it just screams Bucky
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Made an Ava Max - My Oh My fan cover
Thoughts? Criticism?
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Gale noticed something glinting from the leather satchel. He tilted his head and stepped towards it. "What's that…?" He mumbled.
He flicked open the flap with his quarterstaff and peered inside. It was…a crown? He frowned. It looked old and weather. "Such a shame," He crouched down. There was the faintest scent of magic on it, but it was clear it hadn't been treated well.
Gale reached towards it, and his heart began to pound, his fingers trembling. Why? There was barely any magic in it. His celestial orb had more magic than this thing.
"Mr. Dekarios?" Tara called from where she was perched on the intruder's back.
His fingers brushed the center of the crown. A jolt shot through him, his fingers turning cold as creeping black tendrils seeped into his veins. Gale pulled his hand back with a cry, the magic bursting as he fell back.
"Gale!" Tara shouted as she rushed over.
His heart hammered as Gale cradled his hand to his chest, panting soft sounds of pain him as he writhed on the floor. A pained sob escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to assess the damage.
The tips of the two fingers that made contact with the crown were split, and the skin was black, dead, and rotted. His veins were a dark purple, extending upwards toward his wrist, but the colour tapered off there.
"Gods…" Gale let out a shaky breath, fear encapsulating him.
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Arthur leclerc is kinda cute in a dumb boy who sits next to you in English class and calls you by a Nickname you hate kinda way.
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