brooke millard

That previous single thought of her own indecency was wiped out by the tidal wave of her curiosity. About the only thing that she was still aware of was her father’s steady breathing and making sure not to wake him. Taking care not to cause too much disturbance on the mattress, she gently shifted further down the bed. Her dad was still unfolded like starfish, so her legs had to slide out alongside them as she brought her face down to the level of his pelvis.

As the fateful duel erupted, Noah paced around them, undetectable to everyone. The skills and techniques they displayed were impressive, particularly how they incorporated their magic, but while he took the time to appreciate, he also stayed focused on his goal. He had to make Falco lose the fight, but do so in a way that wouldn’t draw suspicions. He couldn’t use his guns, or any of his illusion spells while he was concealed, but he had other ways of sabotaging him.

Abner drew his sword, and the blade glowed with searing intensity as a sheath of lightning enveloped it. Applying elemental energy to one’s weapon was basic magic, akin to dousing a blade in oil and lighting it on fire, but this was the next stage, the true combination of warrior and elemental magic, more like a white-hot sword pulled out of a forge. It reminded Noah of plasma weapons he had used in the past, capable of cutting through steel like butter, and Aithorn’s spear techniques.