Steven Stone Cosplay Novels & Stories

However, after visually measuring the distance between them and the imperial city, Caspian suddenly felt that Steve was undoubtedly bold as they were not too far from the capital. Just when Caspian thought so, a low but muffled sound came. The stone that Steve drew on before moved slowly to the side, revealing a dark hole. Carrying Caspian and Charlotte, Steve looked around again, and he walked in after making sure no one noticed him. As they entered, the stone moved back to its original position. Caspian noticed that there was still a long corridor once they got into the cave. Nonetheless, Steve was noticeably more relaxed. His body was no longer as tense as before, and he even leaned again

His hair and beard are almost white, with visible streaks of gray, and along with his crumpled and stained lab coat, they all seemed to have been unattended for a long while now. "It's an artificial spirit prototype made by yours truly, the great Professor-Inventor Zen Xiu, 'cha know?," the professor said with a sly smirk on his face. The young student was amazed and filled with awe, his eyes wide with interest, but was instantly replaced by ripples of worry, leaving his face creased with apprehension. "You're creating something that will most likely provoke some of the Elder Council again...," the young man replied with a worried look on his face.

Between all four of them, he had changed the most. I glanced at Kieran and then at him again. Had they sorted out their shit? I swallowed as I looked at Severide. He had a few more strands of gray hair at his temples, but aside from that, he was still in good shape for someone his age. My eyes darted to Steven next. He was leaning back in his chair, studying the menu with a slight frown. Steven wore his glasses, and he looked a lot more relaxed. Instead of wearing his usual slacks and button down shirt, he wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. He looked nothing like the professor he probably still was.

I pulled the fabric down just enough to show my collarbone. There, etched into my skin, was a glowing silver thread. It was the Weaver’s Mark. It was the proof that I was a criminal. Alaric walked toward me. Each step was a heavy thud. He stopped inches away. He reached out a stony finger and touched the mark. A shock of electricity ran through my body. I gasped, my knees going weak. The black stone on his finger began to crack. A piece fell off, hitting the floor with a "clink." Underneath, his skin was pink and warm.

And there he is, Alpha Stevens himself, lounging on a fancy couch, sipping wine like a villain straight out of a cheesy mob movie. “Alpha, she’s here,” one of the warriors announces, shoving me forward so hard I stumble and fall to my knees. “Kneel before the Alpha!” another warrior barks, as if I have any choice. I shuffle onto my knees, glaring up at Stevens. He looks almost the same as he did years ago, except his once-blond hair now has streaks of silver. The only sign of aging on this smug asshole.