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The Demon Brothers (*coco + Cspr)



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Fri Jun 29, 2012 11:07 am
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*coco says...



LUCAN




Not in the mood for fixing any more cars, I decided to leave Caleb to it - probably a bad idea, but seriously I couldn’t give a crap what disasters he’d get himself into in my absence. The truth was since I’d come back from the vampire mansion I’d been trying to pull my thoughts together on what I could do next to sort this shit out. But, like always, my mind drew nothing but a complete blank. I took a seat behind my desk and pulled out the top drawer for another one of my ‘special’ cigarettes hoping it would help relieve me from some of my frustrations.

“A penny for your thoughts?” The sudden familiar, nasally, high-pitched voice sent a shiver down my spine.

Lighting the end of my joint I looked up to see the ugly-ass poltergeist staring down at me yet again, it’s yellow eyes glaring with a mixture of hunger and amusement. I rolled my eyes.

As if I didn’t have enough on my plate.

“What the hell do you want?” I asked uninterestedly as I put the joint to my lips and took a long drag.

“Oh, y’know …” the poltergeist tilted its head to the side and floated higher into the air, “I was just passing … thought I’d stop by …”

It was trying to be funny, but I wasn’t amused. I noticed it eyeball the piles of paperwork scattered across my tabletop. If I didn’t know any better there was some sort of messed up curiosity behind them. Then again, maybe the joint was messing with me - heck, it wouldn’t be the first time…

“Can I help you?” I asked it bluntly.

“I think the question is can I help you,” it smirked, crossing its arms together and puffing its translucent chest out proudly. “You obviously need it.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” I grounded out, returning to the papers on my desk, hoping it would leave me alone. Unfortunately, it didn’t budge.

“Come on!” It pressed, swooping down to my level. “Jump off that high horse of yours and just admit that you need some help … like a name …”

Leaning back on my chair, I uninterestedly took another drag from my joint. “What name?”

“Oh you know … the name of something important …,” the poltergeist’s ugly smirk seemed to grow uglier by the minute, “something that could maybe point you in the right direction?”

I just stared at it for a moment, trying to work out whether it was telling the truth or just winding me up. Before I could say anything in response my cell phone started vibrating. Frowning, I whipped it out of my back pocket and answered. “What?” I growled down the line.

“Good afternoon to you too, asshole,” Ruth’s irritated voice answered back.

I instantly felt myself relax a little. “Tell me you’ve found something.”

“The Grand Grimoire,” she responded.

I rose my brow in confusion. “What?”

“I can’t talk about this over the phone, someone might hear,” she paused for a second before continuing, “Meet me somewhere.”

I threw a quick glance at the clock above me and saw that it was nearly 5:30pm. “There’s a diner in Old Town called ‘Lizzy’s’. I’ll meet you there in five.” With that, I hung up and stood up to grab my jacket.

“The grand Grimoire, huh?” questioned the poltergeist who was still hovering in front of me. “What a coincidence, that was the name I was just about to give you …”

“Oh yeah?” I said, pulling on my jacket and crushing the bud of my cigarette on one of the overflowing ashtrays. “You wanna give me a heads up on what the heck it is?”

The poltergeist broke out into a fit of nasally giggles. “That one I’m going to leave for you to work out, devil-boy!” And with that, it was gone.
"Do you know what my heart says now? It says that I should forget about politics and be with you. No matter what. You're a true Queen, a Queen any King would kill for." - Prince Francis ♕





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Fri Jun 29, 2012 2:10 pm
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Cspr says...



CALEB



It didn’t take me long to snap. I whirled around when the old lady tried to lift up the calendar--hello, she didn’t need to see my lovely scrapbook of monsters--and said, “Stop! What the hell are you doing?” It wasn’t exactly eloquent, but it sufficed. She dropped the calendar and turned to me. Her eyes went sad. Like she was about to cry.

I felt like an asshole, but I just crossed my arms and gave her a look. “What?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

My hackles rose. “About what?”

The passenger door popped open and what stepped out would probably haunt my nightmares for a good long while. Half the girls face looked shredded, bloody and rubbed raw like someone had taken sandpaper to it, and the eye there was white. On that side of her face, a fang popped out from under her lip. Her hair was half curly black, but on the burnt half it was salt-and-pepper and smooth as silk. My eyes went lower and, yeah, one half of her neck was messed up, too.

I heard a thump and turned to look to the old lady. She was spastic on the floor, writhing and foaming at the mouth and pissing herself. My tongue felt ten sizes too large and I felt about ready to piss myself. My stomach did gymnastics and I backed away. I eyed the wounded, feral-looking girl with fear. I noticed the fact she was carrying a suitcase--one of those old-fashioned ones--and looked like some college student. University of California hoodie, sand-blasted blue jeans, and red sneakers.

Something was rotten in Lucan and my auto repair shop.

“Stop it,” I said, “let the woman go.”

The girl looked down at the old lady and smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Sooner or later, once my little pet comes out of her.” She patted the suitcase. “It gets boring in here for them.”

Them. More than one. Crap. Caleb was backed against his desk. Lucan?

“So, what’s up then? Your deal? What you want?”

She smiled. “Well, see, we’re kin. In an abstract way. I sort of wanted to host a little family reunion, you know? As we all know, a lovely game’s afoot--and, well, as a bit of a free-wheeling demon, I wanted to get in on that.”

“What are you?” was all Caleb could say in response. If this was what his sister looked like, he was never having kids.

“Oh, cousin of your father and a, well, I’m thinking vampire had me. Aren’t I gorgeous? I mean, I can change forms at will--my favorite is a lady-killer Casanova, figured maybe my daddy would love me like yours loves you if I was a bit more butch--but Hel? Who could pass up looking like a goddess?”

Shit. This won’t end well. “So, you getting your jollies of all these deaths then?” Caleb asked.

She gave him a pitying, brows-drawn-together look. “Aren’t you? Hell, a couple of us mutts are, uh, popping from the woodwork to watch the show, you know?”

“That’s just great.” Lucan? Damn, we need to figure out telepathy.

“Now, don’t go crying for brother,” she said. And, right before Caleb’s eyes, she changed. Right into his usual skanky girl, a drunken-looking brunette with messy, lank hair and dull gray eyes. It was mildly terrifying. Mainly because he realized his type was sort of sad-looking. What did that say about him? “How about we go to your room? I have something special to tell you.” She moved close and moved her mouth to his ear.

The old woman stopped seizing.

“Lucan’s going to find the Grand Grimoire. The witches will be pissed. The werewolves are pissed. The vampires are pissed. The common denominator? You two are involved in all of these things. This poses a problem to your continued existence, so we’re going to have some fun and try and get rid of one of a problem--and maybe buy you guys some fun people to help out, okay?”

Caleb took in a deep breath and held it for a long time, unsure about breathing at the moment. “I don’t know what you’re going on about and I already have a lovely little witch in my life, sweetheart.”

She batted her new, super-long eyelashes. “Oh, honey. I know. It’s easy to watch when you’re the ultimate fly on the wall. You brothers were interesting before--but trying to be peacemakers to a war that’s been on since before you were born? Impressive. Stupid, but impressive. A bit of that human spunk, I suppose--and a drizzle of Lucifer’s mania.” She paused, put a hand to her hip, and leaned in closer--mouth no more than an inch away. “Now, dear, why don’t we have a chat in private? Feel free to bring your monster book. I’ll need to make edits, sweet cakes.”

***

Caleb wasn’t sure if the weird room of the garage, the one with the red carpet and dark wood paneling was quite right for a clandestine meeting, but he wasn’t sure where else he’d host one. Lucan wouldn’t look in here. If anything, Caleb didn’t want this weird ass monstrous bitch sinking her claws into his brother. And, yeah, when he’d tried to yell once, thinking maybe this wasn’t a big a deal as it felt down to his bones, one of her hands turned into a lion’s paw.

Her hand turned into a lion’s paw. With lion’s claws. And she put it on his waist.

He was still shivering a little as he leaned back against the wood paneling, watching her with ultimate suspicion.

She wore a tiny sequin-covered dress, hanging loose off one shoulder, and stilettos.

The body thing he got. They’d met shapeshifters before. But the changing clothes bit? Weird.

She looked harmless. Like some drunk party girl. She even smelled of alcohol. He could smell it from where he stood, a good, say, six feet from her.

The room was tiny.

“So, what exactly are you?”

“I’d call myself a mutt or chimera, or a shapeshifter, too, I suppose. Not sure. I’m sort of new. Well, I’m sixty, but, you know, relatively and all that. Your kind have been around since before the Wash, you know that?”

“Wash?”

She rolled her eyes. One flickered dull white under the lights. The lights had a lot of bugs in them. This didn’t help the mood.

“Nevermind,” she said. She shook her head. “Anyway, onto business. I assume you know the basics of what’s going on?”

“The Addicts and the werewolves and the bloody witches have teamed up. Yeah. I get it,” I said. I cross my arms. “What else could you possibly have to tell me?”

“A name,” she whispered. “Or maybe a few names. Words you might need to know. I have a present for you, too.”

Well, okay. That didn’t sound so bad. Maybe.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I have an agenda. Like anyone else.”

“Yeah, but what is it?”

She paces around the room, walking on those spikes of hers like she’s walking on air. “Do you know what anarchy is?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “I’m not stupid.”

“Okay, well, right now the Purebloods are dictators. No one voted them in. They’re old and have money and understand, at least vaguely, how the world works. They promise safety, as long as everyone else bows to them and promises discretion. More or less. That’s how it’s been for a long time. There have been other rules, but the Purebloods’ rule has lasted the longest, I’d have to say.

She starts to pick under her nails. I’m not sure how such new nails could be dirty.

“The Addicts are just bloodthirsty psychopaths. They don’t have too much control. More control than a werewolf. See, there’s a flip switch. You can hang onto your more cold and calculating human traits--and perhaps your better emotions--if you don’t feed too often, if you don’t have spree kills. If you do? The only thing that lasts are hatred, hunger and thirst, and lust, as far as I can tell. The Addicts don’t care about discretion.

“The werewolves? Brutes. They can be set loose like dogs after a fox, ‘cept they’re rabid dogs. They’ll kill or maim anything you put in front of them when they phase. There is one line of intelligent werewolf I’ve seen, but the rest? Bloodthirsty animals. Nothing else when in phase.”

I nodded along as she talked, pretending any of this is new. “Okay. Preaching to the choir,” I informed.

She hissed. “I can never tell how stupid you humans are. I’m sorry. But you know the real question is?”

“What’s that?” I drawled.

“The witches.”

Ice. That’s what I feel. I almost swallowed my tongue. “What?”

“Witches. Necromancy, the act of raising the dead. Demon-calling. Immortality. Transformation.” She smirks and that fang pops up, right over the red stain of lipstick smeared on her mouth. “Where do you think everything that goes bump in the night comes from?”

I didn’t believe that for an instant. “What are you talking about? The mother of monsters was Lilith,” I said, quickly.

“Mmm,” the woman said. “That’s partially true. In a way. Lilith did give birth to monsters, demons’ children. But didn’t your father sire two monsters?”

I swallowed hard. This half-demon, I had no reason to trust her, but what she was saying made sense, in a twisted-up way. “Then why didn’t the Purebloods kill off the witches, if they’re so powerful?”

The woman laughs. “They aren’t. Only a few were, and they are dead. But they wrote some things down. Things that have been kept, saved, for a rebellion.”

I slid down the wall until I’m sitting. “I--give me a minute.” I run through my hair with one hand, while my other hand slips out my vial of holy water in my boot. “How do you know this anyway?”

“I do my mother’s work on Earth. The demons are fallen angels, love. They’ve existed long before humans.” She paused. “I don’t know everything. But Hell holds more knowledge than Earth in some ways.”

I nodded. “Okay. Okay.” I tuck the holy water up my sleeve. I fear it burning myself, but I would heal. She, a mixture of demon and perhaps vampire, would have more of a problem.

Of course, she could just change form and rid herself of the burn. I don’t know.

“What do you think the endgame of the rebellion is?”

I gave her a look. It’s obvious. “To kill off all the Purebloods.”

She winked. “The thing about anarchy, love, is that someone almost always rises up as new supreme ruler.” She added, in a whisper, “Figure out who wants that position. Quickly.”

She walked over, easy as a panther, and crouched before me. I recoil back fast as possible. I slide out the bottle of holy water and uncork it. I hold it forward, menacingly as possibly.

“No closer,” I snapped.

She tsked. “Now, now, no need for that.” She smiled. All her teeth were shark’s teeth. She leaned forward a little more and whispered, right in my face with the smell of dying flowers, “Belphegor.”

I stared. “What?”

“He doesn’t exactly do much, but he could help. Maybe. He’s sired some interesting beings. I’d give you another name, but you don’t seem trustworthy enough, little Caleb--about to throw a vial of holy water in my face.” She shook her head, suddenly appearing hoop earrings jangling.

She moved back, still crouched down, looking like some odd combination of insect and graceful ballerina.

“Now, for your present.” She opened the briefcase. I saw its interior and honest to God screamed.
My SPD senses are tingling.





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Sat Jul 28, 2012 11:06 am
*coco says...



LUCAN

Lizzy’s was packed tonight, so packed that if it weren’t for my demon compulsion powers I would’ve had to queue up for a table. I sat in my own booth, cradling a cup of coffee that I didn’t really want but ordered anyway just so it wouldn’t look strange. I watched the hustle and bustle of people laughing, talking, eating, drinking, and being serving food. I looked down at my watch and frowned. Almost ten minutes had passed and that damn witch was still nowhere to be seen.

I didn’t want to admit it but I was starting to get a little tense. Different scenarios kept popping into my head of Ruth getting caught and being stoned to death for spying … or whatever it was that witches did to punish other witches for treachery. I shook those thoughts from my head and pulled out a legit cigarette from inside my jacket. Luckily, the diner had a smoker’s section and I was sitting in it, so I lit the end and took a long drag from the bud.

“You do know that smoking kills, right?” a familiar voice said.

I looked up and glared at her, making sure it was a long one. “Five minutes I said. Five. And you took ten.”

Ruth smirked. “Were you worried about me?”

“Please.” I scoffed and blew out a blanket of smoke to one side. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

One of the waitresses I put under my compulsion approached us and smiled brightly at Ruth. “Welcome to Lizzy’s. Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll just have a cup of coffee,” said Ruth. She pointed at me and said, “He’s buying.”

“Sure,” the waitress said happily, before turning her gaze towards me. “And can I get you anything else, sir, a refill, perhaps?”

I quirked a brow in confusion and looked down at my cup. It was still full, what the heck made her think I wanted more? I just shook my head and watched as she gave me another bright smile before cheerfully walking off.

Ruth waited for the girl to get out of earshot before she turned back to face me. “Look at her, batting her eyelids at you. She totally wants to take you home.”

I took another drag from my cigarette un-interestedly. “She’s under compulsion.”

Ruth pulled a face and stared at me for a few seconds. “Is that your ‘thing’ then, putting girls under your spell to help you get laid?” She shook her head. “Very sad. Even for a half-demon.”

“I did it to get a fucking table,” I retorted sourly.

Ruth raised a curious brow. “So, you’ve never used your powers to get girls?” she asked.

I didn’t even bother to respond. “Can we get back to this Grand Grimoire and what you wanted to tell me about it?”

“Oh, right. That …” Ruth took off her jacket and made herself comfortable, “The Grand Grimoire is a book of spells - ancient spells, that have been passed down from generation to generation dating back to the original witches from the voodoo tribes of Africa.”

“Did you find the spell that Nora’s grandma was doing on those kids in the CCTV video?”

“No, BUT I did find a spell equally as important.” She pulled out a folded piece of paper from the inside of her jacket and opened it up. “This is a photocopy of the ‘sun and moon’ curse.” She slid the paper across the table and I picked it up to take a look.

It was in a language I couldn’t understand; lines and symbols that came from the ancient tribal traditions. “What’s so important about that?” I asked.

She just stared at me like I was crazy. “The ‘sun and moon’ curse,” she repeated, with extra emphasis this time. “‘SUN AND MOON’ …”

And then it hit me. I stared at her. “Are you telling me that the witches were responsible for the curse that made vampires slaves to the sun and werewolves slaves to the moon?”

Ruth nodded, her face dead serious. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I can’t believe this …” I ran a hand through my hair.

“Before you ask, no, I did not know about this,” she said pointedly. She was obviously reading my mind because I was just about to accuse her of doing just that. But, there was a genuine tone to her voice and I found myself believing her. “I don’t think any of my generation know about this. They teach us history at the boarding school, but they never to do with this.”

“But why?” I asked, “Why would they put this curse in the first place?”

“It’s quite simply, really. Witches have always respected nature. They must’ve seen the emergence of humans who drink other humans’ blood and things like that as abhorrent. You see, witches have always viewed themselves as caretakers of the earth. They must’ve thought something needed to be done.”

I took in everything she was saying. Some of it made sense but there was one thing I still didn’t understand. “So why is Nora’s grandma working with them now? I mean, her ancestors cursed vampires and werewolves, but now she’s helping the Addicts and the Werewolves? Why?”

“Maybe because it’s in her interest to?” suggested Ruth.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it; witches hate the Pure Bloods just as much as the Addicts and Werewolves – maybe even more. The Pure Bloods were the ones responsible for the Salem Witch Trials and the witches haven’t forgotten about that. Maybe, after making the prophecy on the Addicts and werewolves joining forces to wipe out the Pure Bloods, Nora’s grandma saw it as an opportunity to get revenge on the Pure Bloods too.”

“But revenge is one thing, teaming up with creatures that she herself cursed is another,” I said.

Ruth shrugged. “People do extraordinary things to get revenge. Besides, there’s no way witches would be able to destroy the Pure Bloods without help. They need the Addicts and the Werewolves.”

“So you think she’s using them?”

“It could be a possibility,” said Ruth.

“This is insane,” I exclaimed. “What does she expect to happen after the Pure Bloods are killed off? The only creatures left will be the Addicts and the Werewolves. Is that what she really wants? There will be a blood bath! How can a witch who cares about the welfare of the earth be so desperate for revenge that she’d be willing to let it fall into the hands of bloodthirsty animals?”

Ruth sighed and shook her head. “I have no idea but to be honest, that’s not what's freaking me out the most.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “I did some more digging and found out that the vampires - well, the Purebloods - found out that the witches were the ones that put the curse on them. Loads of vamps died during the first few days of transition, and the ones that were left wanted revenge. And they got it in the Salem Witch Trials. I doubt they’d be very happy to know that some of us are still alive.”
Last edited by *coco on Sat Jan 05, 2013 6:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Do you know what my heart says now? It says that I should forget about politics and be with you. No matter what. You're a true Queen, a Queen any King would kill for." - Prince Francis ♕





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Wed Jan 02, 2013 1:35 am
Cspr says...



When Caleb woke up, he had the worst headache he’d ever had in his life. It was like the worst hangover coupled with the worst hangover. He was on his back, his arms at odd angles, and his knees were bent, legs crossed over each other so his hips were twisted awkwardly, nearly opposite of his shoulders. He tried to raise his neck more, to get a better look, but he could only groan and flop back down onto the trodden down, old bubblegum and stain covered red carpet. The pressure made him moan. He realized then that the carpet looked purple. There was a drum beating in his head. He realized everything was relatively dark and when he looked up he saw the light had been blasted out, black ash covering the ceiling, and some sort of blue electric looking thing was scattered over the ceiling like stars.

What?

What had he even been doing?

Why did he look and feel like a broken marionette?

He let out a huffy breath and gradually forced himself up into a sitting position. The new position automatically made him retch and a small amount of bile-filled vomit landed on his jean clad thigh. He whimpered and shivered. He was sweating and he was burning.

What had happened here?

He looked around for anymore signs, but all he saw was the room as it normally was, if a bit scorched, and his monster scrapbook, laid open halfway. His eyebrows rose and he pulled himself awkwardly across the floor until he reached it. He saw images had been changed distinctly and a very feminine handwriting had covered over his notes like a palimpsest. He shook his head in confusion. His tongue felt too large and the front and back of his neck hurt. He touched his throat only to pull away his fingers with great haste. Burns.

Seriously, what had he been doing?

All he could think of was that time that guy, Orson’s, brought around his Timor Python and it got loose at a party. A bunch of drunk and high idiots spent a good two hours looking for that thing, though the python was finally found because it was apparently quite the voyeur and sent Lindi, still tangled up with Troy, screaming like a legit banshee.

That had happened two years ago and he doubted Orson was still even living in state or that Lindi had become a banshee in two years time, though that was a question worth asking. He could always look to see if she’d died in some horrible way. After he took some pain meds. Lots of pain meds.

Of course, he probably should call Lucan first.

He reached for his cell phone, wrist popping, and he took out a charred, melted hunk of something instead of what he’d been looking for. He also realized his thigh was probably burned.

“Well, shit.”

***

“Huck. Shut up, just shut up, please?”

Caleb ran his hands over his face. He was now in only his boxers, a red rap taped around his thigh where there was the burn from the molten cell phone. One of his ankles, his left, was utterly stiff and swollen and he couldn’t move it, which sucked. His neck was the worst of it all, of course, and he’d tried to take a cool rag to it, but skin had come with it and he’d become too nauseated to continue. He’d vomited again, but at least made it to the toilet upstairs before.

Now, of course, he had Huck barking at him with an immensely confused expression on his face, as if something was fundamentally wrong but the dog couldn’t figure it out.

“Huck,” he muttered hoarsely, “you remember where Lucan keeps the first aid kit?

Bark, bark, bark, bark!

“I didn’t think so. I don’t know, either.”

He finished his class of water and spit into the sink. He then looked up into the mirror and he finally noticed something. He pulled at the skin around his throat, wincing, and with the skin pulled taut, he noted one of the burns, if he looked at it close enough, was a word in cursive, handwriting the same as the over-writing in his scrapbook.

Lovely. He wondered what all the other burns spelled out.

On other news, what in all realms was a belphegor?

He needed to call Lucan.

He stumbled out of the bathroom and into the office. Pot smoke compounded his headache and when he picked up the landline phone and called Lucan, the ceaseless, load ringing about made him want to throw the ancient telephone across the room.

“Pick up, goddammit,” he muttered.
My SPD senses are tingling.





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Mon Jan 07, 2013 5:02 pm
*coco says...



LUCAN




I doubt they’d be happy to know that some of us are still alive …

Instantly, I remembered the dangerous look on the face of Dmitri Markav – once the Pure Blood had seen Nora’s grandmother on the CCTV footage. He looked incensed and it was only then that I realised that Caleb and I had inadvertently just put the entire witch population in jeopardy. Because of us they now knew without a shadow of a doubt that their work in eliminating witches during the Salem Witch Trials had failed. They now knew that the witches were still alive.

Before I could think straight, I suddenly felt my phone vibrating inside my pocket. Truth be told I’d been hearing the vibration for a while now, but I’d been too deep in my conversation with Ruth to pay it any notice. Not knowing what else to do, I just dug it out of my pocket and answered, my mind still racing with thoughts on what I’d just realised. Unfortunately, by the time I picked up the ring had gone. I looked at the name on the screen and realised it had been Caleb who had been calling all this time.

“What the heck does he want now?” I said out loud to no-one in particular, before listening to his voice message.

The sound quality was terrible and I couldn’t make out much of what Caleb was saying, but from the little that I did manage to hear sounded worrying. I immediately got up and headed out of the diner.

“Hey, where are you going?” Ruth called after me. As I walked out of the door she managed to catch up to me.

“Something’s happened to Caleb, I need to get back to the garage,” I answered, hopping onto my bike and revving the engine.

“Well … let me come with you.”

I shook my head. “No way, I need you to keep doing what you’re doing. Stay in the boarding house and keep digging. I’ll call you.” With that, I gripped the handles and sped off into the night.

I didn’t know what I was worried about more now. What had happened to Caleb, or how I was going to tell the witches that I’d just put a red cross on their backs.
"Do you know what my heart says now? It says that I should forget about politics and be with you. No matter what. You're a true Queen, a Queen any King would kill for." - Prince Francis ♕








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