Mordecai Cosplay の小説・ストーリー

Before I could pick up my black shirt Mordecai tossed it off the bed. "Was that necessary?" I turned to look at him already dressed in a pair of black joggers and a white shirt that showed off the curves of his body. I gulped, trying not to drool over my mate that was filling out so nicely. All the training was making him pack on muscle. "Incredibly," he snorted. "Now put your arms up." I furrowed my brows, not liking to be treated like a child but obliged. I put my arms up and he tossed on one of my dark colored tank tops before putting his deep purple sweatshirt over it. He put my arms at my side and rubbed his nose all over my hair.

Mordecai snorted and pointed into the void. With a flash of light, an enormous chessboard appeared. Seeing this, Taiyi and Emperor Tapia quickly flew to James’ side. “Be careful, he’s up to something,” Taiyi warned. “Yes, Mordecai is different from Dillon. He is very treacherous,” Emperor Tapia added softly. “He often has ways to kill gods invisibly.” James smiled calmly and asked, “Sir Mordecai, do you want to play a game with me?”

“You couldn’t have seen that coming?” Merlos huffs as we all get to our feet, shaking off the mud and water. Merlos waves her hands returning her dress and hair to their pristine state. “What do you say we do this in style?” With a confident smirk on her face, Morrtemis steps forward as her deep, cocoa skin slowly turns into a violet crystal-like substance. The crystals continue to spread, replacing her hair and clothes until there’s nothing left but walking amethyst.

Then the door opened. Celeste Valentina Morau stepped inside—platinum blonde hair in twin tails, old Lakeside Rams hoodie (blue and gold, faded from years), black leggings, no makeup, no armor. She looked sixteen. Maybe seventeen. But the power radiating off her made the air crackle. The very atmosphere shifted—electric, heavy, like standing under a storm cloud about to break. Nico’s breath caught. He stared. She didn’t look normal. She didn’t feel normal.

Up on the wooden catwalk, overlooking the misery like a bored god, stood Morde. He was dressed in fine, quilted silks that looked absurd against the grime of the mine. He held a silver goblet of wine, the deep red liquid catching the dim light. Beside him stood two strong warriors, their polished armor a direct insult to the rags and mud below.

In the end, I chose to start from scratch and work behind the scenes instead, because the hardest part of modeling was that I couldn't eat much, and I couldn't stand that. After I had money, I founded a company and became my own boss. From that point on, I spent what I earned to make up for everything I'd been denied. I bought expensive skincare, expensive clothes, and I didn't hold back when it came to food, drinks, or going out. After I paid in full for a house and a car and opened a store while I was still young, I stopped caring about looking polished. I dressed however I wanted, and I leaned into a casual, messy style.

She mumbled words that could cause the enemies to kneel, burn, and experience tingling pain in their bodies as Emily exerted control over her power over them. Emily’s body was glowing, transforming into a moon goddess, wearing a white dress and a jeweled star on her forehead. “Morsus...” (Pain) “Combustum...” (Burn) “Interficio...” (Kill) Emily was saying those words, and slowly, the grunts and roars of the hunters and rouges were subsiding. Her eyes darted at the King and Queen of Rouges. Her eyes were dangerous and made her shudder.

I wanted to cover them, but Marcel wouldn’t allow it… I believed that it was his own way of showing the claim he was having over me. “So,” she murmured. “You and my son have been… active… it seems.” Heat crept up my neck, but I didn’t look away. I refused to. “I don’t have the makeup to cover it up. I am embarrassed walking around with the marks, but Alpha Marcel seems to enjoy seeing them, and even if I wanted to, I have no way of trying to cover it.” She nodded, and I could see her chewing the inside of her mouth as she clearly debated on how to respond to what I just said.

A great part of me didn’t want to stay longer, so with a huff, I retreated, turning back toward the opening, but before I could sweep the flap to the side, his voice filled the room. “Nicolette.” I moved my head to the sound of the voice, and instantly my breath hitched. Ira really was good at being stealthy. Was this a current trend for all men not born from my world? I hoped not. Compared to earlier, he looked different now. Maybe because he was cosplaying. But seriously, he wore clothing that looked like a mix of Grecian and Arabian designs. Emerald green and wine red were the main colors, with a white cloth that covered most of his chest. It was so long at the back it almost looked like