skull dansuer
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The pub was a quiet, warm affair, more comfortable than I would have assumed on first passing the place. Rowan slid into a chair near to a smokeless fireplace and motioned me to the opposing overstuffed monstrosity masquerading as something akin to a loveseat.
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I hoped Rowan hadn’t heard the undignified squeak I made when I finally got those blasted briches down. Back in the castle, I had swapped tunics, but not the bottoms, whatever they were called. So, I hadn’t exactly had a moment to contend with whatever the good magician had blessed me with.
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“That witch was sure as hell tripped out on something. Are you sure you want to go along with a twenty-plus-year-old prophecy that was probably just the delusional ravings of a mushroom-hopped, senile, old lady?” I settled back into our nest of crates in the dungeon-like room. “Then again. Don’t want to ruin a good…
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“You’re not joking. You’re seriously going to just leave me here?” I hissed between my teeth. Rowan and I stood in front of a pair of imposing doors. Laughter and the timbre of feet and music scratched along my nerve endings.
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A sickly dark mage swaps bodies with a NYC ballet dancer to prolongue his life. The dancer though has strong opinions and a bit of a necromantic bend on his philosophy in life now that he’s been isekai-ed into a fantasy world. Doesn’t help that he’s falling in love with the dark mage’s step brother.…
Chapel Orahamm 