𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙱𝚘𝚕𝚝

𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘪𝘴 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗐𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀. 𝑰𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝗋𝗂𝑒𝑠𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉.

ᅠᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠ𝑰❜𝑴 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑩𝑼𝑻 ᅠᅠᅠ𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑳𝑼𝑪𝑲⸝ 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 .ᐟ ᓚᘏᗢ ᅠᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠ

There ain't no grave Can hold my body down. There ain't no grave Can hold my body down.

I do not argue the 𝐋𝐀𝐖. 𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵.

“Aye. A king who must shout has already lost the room. Your silence weighs heavier than any storm, Black Bolt.”

“Aye. A king who must shout has already lost the room. Your silence weighs heavier than any storm, Black Bolt.”

Black Bolt studies him a moment longer. Not weighing threat now, measuring character. The Terrigen Mists respond faintly to Spider-Shock’s presence, curious but restrained. Black Bolt lifts one hand, palm outward—not a command, but a boundary. You are safe here. ⟩

"Well, you haven't changed, Black Bolt! Still as talkative as ever, I'm having trouble keeping up !"

"Oh, the ol’ mighty has returned."

“Tsk. Oh, don’t glare at me like that. I’ve shattered empires with screams far louder than yours.”

“Afternoon, yer highness.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ We 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗲 - - ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ We 𝗮𝗿𝗲 - - ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠.

A beat—glancing once at the drifting mists before looking back towards Black Bolt. “Formals due, Spider-Shock is my name. ‘Man’ works too—I guess. Ya' don’t strike me as the ‘waste words’ type, reminds me of someone close. So I’ll wait—or follow, whateva' makes more sense.”

Yishai stills the instant he feels the pressure of his gaze—shifting his stance a fraction to let his eyes meet the King’s without staring him down either. Yishai raises his hand halfway, then thinks better of it. “Just checkin’—am I in trouble, yer' gaze is...intense."

ㅤ 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐹𝑈𝑆𝑆. 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝐓𝐎. ㅤ

Her wings fold slowly as she circles him, eyes sharp with disdain. “Tell me, Black Bolt… does your throne feel hollow when you cannot even speak to command it?”