To bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses

- Coming, sweety? I've warmed up the bed for you already.

The cheeky grin made her cringe.

The constant jokes and sassy comments, all attempting to prove a wit long lost. In her head she counted the days, tried to remember how many months she'd allowed the rogue in her presence. The dark eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched him, blanket pulled up just enough to cover his hips. At least he was that decent for the moment. Her gaze kept trailing up his form, taking in all the small marks her claws and spells had inflicted on the otherwise sculpted body. So many memories, and few even included him, the one outlet of emotion she allowed herself. That was from when she got home from the cold north, a form of celebration. That was from when Timrashal was banished, made in rage, and next to it a fairly recent one, one she hadn't been aware of creating, her mind having drifted to the recent rumors.
Once again her mind wandered off, hands unclasping the belt around her waist on their own accord. As the robes fell open to reveal the sickly thin and pale body visible through underlinens, the man in front of her, the house they lived in and the wind outside had vanished to let her go over it all again. Her spies and subordinates had seen them, of course.. The select few who had remained in the Undercity and pledged to make up for old sins, as well as others, previously denied, who'd seen a second chance. The vermilion tabard with its golden crown fluttered on proud chests where the white wreath once had been. Arcanists, warriors and rogues, pretending nothing had ever happened. Quite a few new faces, but most of them remotely wellknown. The Doctor and Apothecary, of course, as well as the madman Weyland, Edward, the Prince or whatever he wished to call him at the moment. Dustfall, as weary as ever, and a few of his stableboys. The priest, the wraith that seemed born to serve noone but Her, and the warlocks. The old so called Grand Warlock, who seemed to have about as much brains as the feeble imps he sought to master... and Scarrow.

With one knee already on the mattress and the mans hands around her waist, she pulled back.
The wall of pleads fell on deaf ear as she stormed out of the bedroom, caring little for the cold air against her pale limbs, and into the library she'd set up.
Scarrow... the name echoed silently from the thin lips, and suddenly grinning she snapped her fingers.

- Yazbis! Era zul maradh er Karnozal. Ara maduuhn hez karil.

The eredun came far too naturally still, and made the little imp run out from its hidingplace in a corner. While she settled at a writingdesk it scurried around, desperately trying to find what the witch had requested, and within seconds appeared next to the table with a heavy, leatherbound volume.

- 'Bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses'... perfect.

Shuffling his feet, the imp remained at her side as she slowly opened the tome and started reading. By now too well trained to even remark on the odd vision of a naked magician reading about mind-control, it glanced around nervously. Its state of misery wasn't improving as she looked down on it.

- You remind me of Edward. Quiet and well behaved at last, all you needed was a firm hand.

The hand she actually reached out for him made him cringe, even if all it did was to idly flick at one of his ears, chilling it to the core.

- Go make your master some food. He might finally prove useful again, and we want him in a good mood. Don't we?

The imp opened its mouth, thought better of it, and simply nodded its little head before it vanished. As pots and pans started rattling in the kitchen the arcanist returned to the chapter she had been reading through, trailing a finger along the lines.

- 'Preformed correctly the incantation can make the body forget its own strength and lack thereof, granting the thrall power above that it usually wields". Lets see if it's enough to break into a tomb. Lets hope, for her sake...

___

Ooc; So, this is a work in progress done at 3am, mostly to keep -someone- from sending me more threatletters. Continuation will come as soon as I've discussed a few details with involved.
To those of you who have no idea what this is about, I apologize. Things will hopefully become more clear with the next part.
And yes. I'm painfully aware of the quote-theft in the title(s). I've waited for years to be able to use it in a story, so no need to slap my wrist for it.

You know... I knew who it was, simply by the username... The story reassured me I was right... The avatar sealed it.

Still <3.

Lovely, lovely, lovely.

Im still not sure... Maybe i diddn't notice it in the story... So who are you? My guess would offcourse be Edurne, am i right or?

And great writing

''The old so called Grand Warlock, who seemed to have about as much brains as the feeble imps he sought to master...''

Yep, definately Edurne Morters.

Everyone! Banish the warlocks now! "Starts out by bashing Gorthols face with a baseball bat"

I enjoyed reading this, I'm looking forward to the next part very much

So fitting that i read this in a 39 degree fever.