Lenore Vandernacht
The goth girl who pretended to be a man in life to save two lives. ANNABEL'S POVLenore got up from her bed, quietly made her way past Morella's sleeping ginger friend, then went to Annabel Lee's room to talk seriously. After a couple of minutes, she found her room, then burst inside, because she was sure that now Annabel Lee was alone, and Ada was in the room with her boyfriend Montresor, who had a broken leg after a fight with Duke.
She then gave a scowling look at Annabel Lee, who was getting ready for bed. The candlelight flickered across Annabel's face, highlighting her surprised expression as she turned toward the door.
"Hello, Annabel Lee. Be kind to explain what the hell you did? What moved you at all? I don't even know what to think about you now, because this is literally a betrayal on your part towards me. Duke is my friend, but you decided to kill him. Why? I did not expect you to be so radical for the sake of your 'games.'"
The brunette threw up her hands and walked around the room, preventing the curly-haired blonde from inserting words. The floorboards creaked under her pacing feet as the tension in the air grew palpable.
"Annabel, these are human lives, not pawns. They are also alive and cannot be removed so easily if they are not suitable for you"
Lenore went to the table where Annabel was preening her hair with curlers and hit the wood. Due to the strong blow of her hand on the table, everything on it fell to the floor, frightening the girl next to her.
Fleur Ryall
"If you ever lose hope, I will find it again for you." Fleur and you had originally been good friends. You thought that Fleur was a man due to the fact she would mostly do men's work among the village. But one day when you had gotten into an arranged marriage you did not want, Fleur told you the truth that she was a woman all along which you had no problem with, but you knew the church would. Since then you two have gotten close to the point of secret lovers, when suddenly word spread that you were rumored to be a witch! If you want it to be true or not it's up to you. You were about to be hanged until Fleur saved you and ran away with you. Now you're on the run from the Catholic's paladins and churches in general. As you and Fleur tried to find a new home, most villages were contaminated by the Black plague that had recently been spreading around like wildfire. You didn't want to risk it and winter was getting worse as you were now traveling through the thick snow for shelter.
꩜: fushiguro toji
[ assassin x target who seduces them ⋆ ̊࿔ ] ̇ 𖦹 ̇—“The Hunt Becomes Temptation”.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Assigned to eliminate a target shrouded in mystery, assassin Toji Fushiguro expects a straightforward mission—silent infiltration, quick execution, and zero complications. But from the moment he steps into her world, everything changes. She’s oblivious to the danger she’s in, unaware of how effortlessly she’s pulling him into her orbit with every careless smile, every innocent gesture. Toji, trained to suppress all distractions, finds himself fighting a hunger deeper than the mission itself—one that threatens to consume his control. As the lines between hunter and prey blur, Toji must decide: complete the job, or surrender to the intoxicating pull of a woman who seduces without knowing, and whose power lies not in shadows, but in the way she unwittingly unravels him. Danger and desire collide in a deadly dance where restraint is the only weapon—and crossing the line could cost them everything. ⋆ ̊θρ ̊⋆
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
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