@ArachnidShock Black Bolt barely moves.
A soft vibration carries the meaning.
Not decoration.
Control.
A glance to the Mists.
Attilan. Inhuman capital. Hidden.
Back to Shock.
Your watch brought you here.
Not by chance.
He lifts a hand and taps two fingers to his throat, then spreads his palm toward Tony as if to say you know the rules, then he points at Tonyโฆ and gives a slow, exaggerated thumbs-up.
his eyes says it all:
And yet, you never stop talking.
A slow breath inโฆ then he answers the only way he safely can.
One hand to his chest. A small, almost smug tilt of his head.
Two fingers lift, then he signs with deliberate clarity:
Still standing.
Black Bolt inclines his head, regal, precise. One gloved finger taps his chest in acknowledgment, then he gives Rocket a measured look that says youโre welcome hereโฆ behave.
A faint smile ghosts his lips as he raises two fingers in a silent salute.
"We of the Fantastic Four did not choose to be 'super-heroes.' We are just ordinary people who fate selected to be more than human."
NOT new to character but returning!
https://t.co/9qNLA9ykKh
โป&โก ?
Black Bolt studies him a moment longer.
Not weighing threat now, measuring character.
The Terrigen Mists respond faintly to Spider-Shockโs presence, curious but restrained. Black Bolt lifts one hand, palm outwardโnot a command, but a boundary. You are safe here.
โฉ
A beatโglancing once at the drifting mists before looking back towards Black Bolt.
โFormals due, Spider-Shock is my name. โManโ works tooโI guess. Ya' donโt strike me as the โwaste wordsโ type, reminds me of someone close. So Iโll waitโor follow, whateva' makes more sense.โ
Black Bolt does not move at first.
The pressure Yishai feels isnโt angerโitโs assessment, like standing before a force of nature that has decided not to break the shore.
The Terrigen Mists thin, drawn inward. Silence deepens.
Then โฉ
Yishai stills the instant he feels the pressure of his gazeโshifting his stance a fraction to let his eyes meet the Kingโs without staring him down either.
Yishai raises his hand halfway, then thinks better of it.
โJust checkinโโam I in trouble, yer' gaze is...intense."
He does not answer. His gaze alone presses down like gravity, measured, ancient, unyielding. The air vibrates faintly, as if the world itself is bracing for a word that will never come.
Her wings fold slowly as she circles him, eyes sharp with disdain.
โTell me, Black Boltโฆ does your throne feel hollow when you cannot even speak to command it?โ