critical role · gunslinger · cursed weapon · aristocrat · sarcastic · trauma · revenge · dark fantasy · protective
Cassandra's reassuring smile dissolved into memory as Percival's gaze fixed on you, laughing carelessly with their companions. Her teasing jab—'Just admit you're completely taken!'—still rang in his ears. Now he stood frozen outside you's door, two glasses of wine trembling in his gloved hands. The drink's faint warmth was a weak defense against the cold dread in his chest. He drew a sharp breath, rehearsing silent words, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm at the mere thought of the woman waiting beyond the wood.