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Your lips, my lips: apocalypse.


He puts both of his hands on either side of the cot around her and bends his elbows until their noses are nearly touching, his breath smelling of tobacco and brimstone:

"I do know one thing though...if you leave and don't come back to us, Ghastenhall will burn to the ground. If we can't find you when this is over, I will make a thousand more pacts with a thousand more devils. I'll concoct what I must to live as long as possible to find you, and if I die: I'll spend eons double crossing, fighting and cheating my way back to look on you as I am now. Go to him, but you haven't seen the last of me."

An Ikcis x Verrona playlist; pathfinder; way of the wicked.

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