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- QUOTE OF THE DAY!,(;
- Polls & Pictures!,(:
- Summary & Characters,(:
- More On The Characters!,(:
- Prologue!,(:
- Chapter One!,(:
- Chapter Two!,(:
- Chapter Three!,(:
- Chapter Four!,(:
- Chapter Five!,(:
- Chapter Six!,(:
- Chapter Seven!,(:
- Chapter Eight!,(:
- Chapter Nine!,(:
- Chapter Ten!,(:
- Chapter Eleven!,(:
- Chapter Twelve!,(:
- Chapter Thirteen!,(:
- Chapter Fourteen!,(:
- Chapter Fifteen!,(:
- Chapter Sixteen!,(:
- Chapter Seventeen!,(:
- Chapter Eighteen!,(:
- Chapter Nineteen!,(:
- Chapter Twenty!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-One!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Two!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Three!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Four!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Five!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Six!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Seven!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Eight!,(:
- Chapter Twenty-Nine!,(:
- Chapter Thirty!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-One!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Two!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Three!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Four!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Five!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Six!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Seven!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Eight!,(:
- Chapter Thirty-Nine!,(:
- Chapter Forty!,(:
- Chapter Forty-One!,(:
- Chapter Forty-Two!,(:
- Chapter Forty-Three!,(:
- Chapter Forty-Four!,(:
- Chapter Forty-Five!,(:
- Chapter Forty-Six!,(:
- Chatper Forty-Seven!,(:
- Chapter Forty-Eight!,(:
chapter forty-eight!(:
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“Why are you so annoying?” she asked acidly. “Why do you find me so attractive?” he retorted. “Shut the hell up!” she yelled and glared at him. “Yeah, maybe,” he sat down. Charisma started looking around. “Just tell me where the book is.” She hissed. “I want to hear you beg for it.” He smirked evilly. “I don’t beg for anything.” She growled, watching him as he got back up and started walking around. “Then you’re not getting this,” he pulled a book off a shelf and put it behind his back. “How do I know that that’s the real deal?” Charisma snarled. “Durata de viata a Warlock primul o autobiografie,” he said in a foreign language. “In English.” She hissed. “The life of the first Warlock, an Autobiography.” He said dully. “It’s written in what language, again?” she felt the air around herself. “Romanian. We’re in Rome.” He said almost angrily. “Right. Then how am I supposed to read it?” she sneered. “Every time you help me get a little closer to what I want I’ll translate a couple pages for you.” He compromised. “Fine.” She agreed. “Beg for it,” he leaned forward slightly. “Please, please, give me the book.” She half begged. “Here,” he tossed her a leather bound book with ‘Durata de viata a Warlock priul: O autobiografie’ etched into the front. “How did you know this was in Romanian?” she asked curiously. “I wrote it,” he shrugged. “No you didn’t,” she protested in disbelief. “I rewroteit, I should have said.” He corrected himself. “This isn’t the original?” she flipped it open. “Where’s the original?” “That is the original, the one I forged is in some Roman Museum.” He shrugged. | “A museum? And they think it’s really the original?” she asked in a semi-shocked voice.
“You’d be amazing at how good I am at forging things,” he picked something up from thin air and then put it back. “What are you looking at!?” Charisma shouted at him, getting aggravated because she couldn’t see what he was picking up. He picked something else up, “this is a pencil,”: he put it down and grabbed something else. “and this is a piece of paper.” “How can you see it but I can’t!?” she demanded. “Who do you think hid it all?” he asked sarcastically. “You hid this place? Why?” she asked, taking a step towards him. “Because it was worth hiding,” he shrugged. “Am I worth hiding?” she asked in what she thought to be a seductive voice. “Worth it? No,” he shook his head. “But if I was going to hide you away, it’d be after you helped me so I couldn’t hear you whine anymore.” “That was rude.” She stopped short and glared at him. “I’m a rude guy,” he shrugged again, grabbing a hold of something and opening what she guessed was a door. He reached forward, and traced something in the open air. The walls started leaking into the color, and then Charisma could see everything in the house she was standing in. “Yeah, I figured,” she muttered. “But deep down I’m sure you’re—” He raised his hand, cutting her off. “You don’t want to stoop that low. I’m just as rude on the inside as I am on the outside.” “You can’t be—” she started again. “I am.” He glared at her. “Boo—” “Don’t call me that. Or ‘Babe’ or ‘Baby’, its degrading.” he waved his hand, as if to dismiss her. “Then what can I call you?” she asked. “You can call me by my name, and only my name.” he started grabbing books off the shelves and stacking them into a pile on the table. “Can I call you by your middle name?” she asked, giving him a slight smile. “I don’t have a middle name.” he stated. “But William is such a common name.” she whined. “It’s either you call me by my name or just don’t talk to me at all.” He stated. “William Harlem,” she said aloud. “Can I call you Will for short?” |