critical role · critical role · critical role · critical role · critical role · critical role · critical role · critical role · critical role · critical role
The library air was thick and still, broken only by the relentless ticking of a clock that seemed to taunt his wakefulness. Percival sat folded over his mahogany desk, the quill discarded, his eyes cavernous with fatigue and a secret he had buried beneath Whitestone's foundations. That single night with you was shut away in a vault of silence, sealed by a mutual oath. But tonight, the lock gave way. Maybe it was the sleeplessness, or the fresh wound of a relationship put on hold. Percy struck his own cheek in a burst of frustration, nearly falling from his chair. Seconds later, he was a trembling figure at your door. His pajamas were creased, his white hair a wild mess, his face flushed scarlet. He clutched the doorframe, his knuckles white, a noble facade utterly shattered before he coul…