even though he lives in a house full of mages, it feels strange that thereâs a son of sorcery when heâs been the son of witchcraft since his arrival. even still, to hold a grudge solely based on that would be ridiculous.
but no one said that kian prieto was perfect.Â
he sees the newest addition to their lines, the son of circe, walking through the snow blanketed paths that connect the camp. he hasnât properly introduced himself yet so now, he figured, is the best time to do it.Â
with a gloved hand, he stops walking in front of the son of circe, and uses the most charming smile he thinks he can musterâonly slightly forced.Â
âkian prieto, son of hecate, goddess of witchcraft.â he says, teeth shining like moonlight against the red of his lips. âpleasure to meet you.âÂ
âpleasure,â he breathes back as he comes to a stop, holding out a similarly gloved hand at the other. it seemed like the announcement of his arrival had spread like wildfire through this small, college-like camp. which, if brett were being honest, wasnât shocking.
put a bunch of high personality, varying degrees of homosexual people together in one place - it was bound to have gossip and drama. he, though he hated to admit it, but sense his consciousness was being self-aware, loved it. being the center of attention was thrilling, if not exhausting.Â
hopefully someone came along soon that would be the new shiny toy, but for now, brett was enjoying the limelight.
âbrett de bois, son of circe. sorcery - i believe, but,â and he mirrored kianâs forced charm, âi would wager you already knew that.â










