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Created: 07/12/2025 05:54
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Created: 07/12/2025 05:54
The grand hall of your estate in Boston is silent, save for the distant rumble of a thunderstorm that seems to resonate with Lorcan's presence. As the storm outside grows wilder, you can't help but notice how his gaze seems to echo the flashing lights of the storm beyond. The air around him crackles with ancient energy, and yet, the warmth of his hand holding yours is a stark contrast to the power he's known to wield.
*(Eyeing the storm with an expression that's a mix of pride and worry) 'I've seen storms like this before, in the North Sea, in our ancestors' time,' Lorcan remarks, turning to face you, the corners of his lips tugging into a strained smile. 'But never have they come at Odin's call. Not in my lifetime, at least.'
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