Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

The Beast Within (Lano and Retro)

RetroWitchcraft

RetroWitchcraft

Star
Joined
Jun 24, 2011
Location
The Basement
Morgause hated public festivals and events. The crowds made her feel pinched in and altogether trapped. What was worse was that people often stared at her, spoke in hushed whispered about her supposed abilities, but never did they say one word to her. They treated her in the way she had been accustomed to treated; as a witch and an outsider… like an animal on display to slake their morbid curiosity. Sometimes she would sneer at them, showing her canine teeth that were slightly sharper than a normal human’s just to frighten them off. They all believed her cursed or an evil sort of spellcaster or something else that made no sense to her. No one cared to ask her opinion on the matter. Everyone simply assumed because she was faster than all of the boys and stronger than them by good measure as well.

It did not help that she was not a gentle slip of a girl either, like the others her age, but full figured and womanly. She would not be considered morbidly obese in any sense of the word but she was not a stick. Her figure was rounded at the hips and her chest was ample to say the least. No one in her village looked as she did. Even about the face she was much different than the soft, doe eyed creatures that worked so hard to avoid her. Her golden eyes, while large and expressive, slanted ever so subtly upward and set a little further apart than most. Her nose was narrow, strait and accented high cheek bones that pointed down into a dainty chin. Her lips were full and shapely and entirely, in her opinion, the best feature on her face. It was that lush bud that had caught the attention of a few of the men throughout her twenty and one years of life. Then, of course, she had to be topped off with copious amounts of copper colored curls and waves that wildly cascaded down to the small of her back. Random streaks of gold or cherry would stand out brazenly in the mess and it gave her a truly feral appearance and it was her hair, oddly enough, that marked her as a witch. Her town believed that redheaded girls had bad magic coursing through their veins.

Maybe they were right but she believed if she was a witch or anything of the sort she would have realized it by that time.

The music pounded in her ears and in her head, making her agitated and annoyed with every little movement. She did not see them as individual people but as blurs that sometimes had faces. Everyone was either moving too slow or too fast in that closeness. She glowered and moved briskly along, breasts bouncing heavily. Unlike the other girls who pinched themselves as tiny as they could with hooks and laces, Morgause let herself hang loose. Her dresses fit her form but did not distort her shape, nor did it restrict her breathing, and she was not bogged down by fake jewels or glass beads. All of that fluff was for women who could get married at any rate and none wanted her in that way. She never even had a chance with the rumors and now her age marked her as an old spinster. At least she was a skilled spinner. That could make her very rich one day, she knew. Her thread always turned out slender and as fine as silk. Perhaps she could even get out of that town and away from her noble title. A fat lot of help it did for her anyway.

Even in her own mind she sounded bitter, sauntering through the streets avoiding people just as much as she avoided them. She walked as if she owned them, which was partly true, as her father was the baron that ruled over that particular patch of property. There were some that wished she cowered from the scrutiny but their irrational hate only further drove her gall and vibrato.

It was not the good cheer that brought her that far into the festival, however. Whatever rubbish they were celebrating mattered little to her. She did not know her saints and cared little to know. Religion tended to close off the minds of the less intelligent part of the populace… which was more than half of their town. What made her travel from her quiet house on top of the hill to the bombastic horror of the world below was that there was supposed to be a pig slaughtered in honor of the day. Instantly she flushed from the thought of the smell of its fresh blood. The smell of fresh blood always sent her mind into a delightful tizzy. Made her other senses sharper and dulled the constant thoughts that ran in her brain like paper on a broken printing press. It shamed her to and she did not mention it, simply enjoyed the cheap thrill of it.

Quietly she walked to where she knew it was going to happen. A basket was slung over her arm. Inside were a few things to pass her time before that one pleasure was afforded her. There was a book in some obscure language that she was trying to cipher, feathers and inkwells for making notes on said book, a strange sliding panel game that she had figured out time and time again, and a glass bottle of water. The sound of the items rustling in the basket was unheard, however, by the constant noise.

Every so often in her walk she would scowl and terrorize a particularly pretty girl. Just for the fun of it, of course.
 
Amben had picked his way carefully down through the crowd. While he did not move with a dancer's gait, his dark purple robes accorded him a clear path as people bowed and showed respect to his office.

His was a fortunate story...professionally, at least. His father, an accomplished trader, had intended Amben to join in the very profitable family business. But a rogue magic streak had surfaced with him and he was granted a seat in the wizards's school, at first....then in two years to the academy. Three years led him to the University, and he had entered it at age 16. Rare indeed was such talent...or such application.

He did not realize that his gentle, thoughtful nature also had much to do with his advancement. If anyone was to be their wizard, the villagers were thrilled that it would be Amben. Amben the peaceful. Amben the patient. Amben the wuss...or so some boys called him...until the mayor heard and suddenly the tricks they played in lower school came to haunt them. Ordinarily, wizards were lofty, overbearing, dangerous people, whereas he was easygoing and a peacemaker- kind to all who did not strive to offend him. The Baron had already offered Amber the.Additional position of Court Magician- a high status position, it carried the equivalent of a Baronetcy in rank, which would place him directly below the Baron in rank.

Amben's father had finally forgiven him for leaving the business, when word of this promotion filtered back. His son a noble! How much prouder could a father be. Now if he could just give the boy some spine in his dealings with others.

Amben was close to achieving his mastery - four years early, and his joining the elite ranks of full wizards. His parents had arranged a meeting between him and this 'Morgause' character. The idea was intriguing. He was so shy with girls.

He saw her. from the expressions of the onlookers, it must have been her. And...she was amazing...her unfettered form. She moved like she owned the square and was ready to fight, like a great forest cat. This...now this was a woman! Not one of those made up court fluffs who suddenly changed from looking down their effete powdered noses at him, to simpering sluts trying to get him to chase and bed them to win a title. No, she only wanted what suited her. Suddenly, Amben truly wanted to suit her.

A farmer started to say something nasty to her, and Amben, irritated with the ignorance around him, threw a hold tongue at the man. He almost snarled out, "hold a civil tongue before such a worthy woman, or I might decide you don't need it."

The farmer blanched and stepped back, and some others were quick to now bow to her. Amben snapped off a welcome spell. He now appeared to her now in the finest of wizard's robes. And holding a rare turkey leg out to her. "Um..Morgause...I'm Amben. Our parents want us to meet to....to see if we can get along. From seeing and hearing of you, I'm a fan. I'm guessing you are here for the ritual slaughtering. I'll be back,"

Amben stepped up as the knife was drawn, and the blood gushed into his goblet. As a wizard representative, he had such rights to gather needed components for magic. He stepped back and tipped his hat to her. "I can sense the shifter in you...I got you a drink...will you perhaps take it and we can walk together?"

Just then a large young man blocked his way. "So wizardling...thought you could avoid me?"
Amben's eyes looked up. The Bully was in a good attack position to harass Amben. Too close too fast, he couldn't fight back and he needed room to fire a spell or others might suffer. He braced himself for the punch. No one would block the brute. Why should they?
 
There was an odd lapse when she did not realize what was going on. She had remembered, vaguely, that her father arranged a meeting with a wizard of some sort. Apparently the lad thought she was some sort of changeling and had grown very interested in her. As it filtered back into her mind she nearly sneered. What did he expect from her? A lock of her hair for some ritual? Visibly she bristled at the thought and stood very much removed from him, her golden eyes shining a moment and narrowing on his form.

Certainly the boy was well to do. Her father had named in magician of their court or some other trivial nonsense that Morgause paid only half attention to. His robes were of a pleasing color today at least. She was about to say something to that effect when a farmer, one that she personally had troubles with, was about to spew a litany of nasty things. Already she had her comeback waiting on her tongue. It was always the same and brutally effective, if a little vicious and cruel. She would simply ask “How is your boy doing?”… his son had thrown himself into the river three years before because the girl he loved ran off with a travelling nobleman that had passed through the village.

However he was cut short by the slip of a magician. She stared him down. No one had really ever stood up for her before and it truly confused her. What was more confusing was the bowing. She disliked it wholly; they didn’t respect her but, still, she knew that it was likely the only time she would ever get shown such regard. A kinder smile crossed her full lips, making her features appear softer and more docile.

Curious eyes then lifted towards him. A fan? Surely this had to be some sort of twisted jest on his part. If she was not the daughter of a baron then she would have been slain long ago. She had no fans. She had no friends. Even her own family was starting to regard her as if she was a plague sent to destroy their good names. Shrewdly her arms came to cross in front of that ample chest of hers. Really, she was much narrower than what she gave herself credit for. It was just her large chest and rounded hips that made everyone mention how large she was. Really she was quite pick; not very muscular but she did not want for tone beneath the thin layer of her dress.

She watched him go up to the pig that was being cut in to. The fresh scent of the blood made her skin flush and she bit down on her lip. It was amazing and she forgot where she even was. Regaining herself was difficult and, by the time she did, he was back in front of her holding out a goblet of the red liquid. Her eyes widened and she took a few steps back from it. All of the color then drained from her face. He accused her of being a shifter and then meant for her to drink the blood of the sacrifice? Her mouth dried and felt drier than what it had in a long, long while. There had always been the urge to drink such things but she never acted upon them; never truly wanted to. Always she feared in losing herself completely to the force that crouched in her soul and waited to be uncaged.

Again she was about to say something but had been cutoff. Her lips twisted tightly together upon seeing who it was. Of course it was the local brute; who thought that they could push others around through the sheer force of their physical abilities.

Taking the blood hastily from the wizard’s hand she walked up to the man. Her free hand rested very carefully on her hip and she sloshed the red liquid around the goblet a moment, regarding its color and thickness a moment. It was almost a shame to see it go but she thought this was more worth her effort. With a freakishly quick flick of her wrist she had dumped all of it on top of his head.

“There. Now you smell like how you act; a pig.” Her voice was a hiss and her eyes flashed dangerously. It was his warning. She knew she could thrash him and any friends he brought with him in a matter of moments. “Leave. Now.”
 
Amben could tell he had put his foot in it when he handed her the cup. Then he realized that to other people her abilities might not be so wondrous, but a cause for fear and suspicion.

He was such an idiot. She apparently was having problems fitting in, though why anyone would want to fit in with the commonplace, he could never fathom. He enjoyed the differences. He knew that the blood would help quench the wild desires she must be feeling. Then it hit him, did SHE know?

But the altercation with the bully drew his mind from that thought...

And SHE stepped in, dousing the brute. He was obviously a little bit afraid of her...smarter boy that Amben had first thought. But his worthless followers were watching, the fool had to push back...and then Morgause would crush him...but would expose herself to ridicule.

Unusual anger flared within him, and he understood what his professor had been trying to tell him. For the sake of reputation, one may have to crush some toes.

Fire lanced from his fingers to burn the bully in his chest, privates and nose. He stumbled back screaming. He would blister, but not likely be scarred.

Then Amben's hand erupted in blue flames that swirled upwards. "Truf, I have too long permitted you to disrespect me. Today you have disrespected my office. You are going to leave. Anyone who acts like you will leave the Barony, or I will do so. much. more."

He strode right up to the horrified large man and the heat from his hand near the existing burns made the bully wince. "That is all. You will go. Or I will make no promise to dole out such a small punishment next time, for you are not just an idiot, but a fool as the Lady Morgause so fairly revealed."

He turned his back to the man, and just as he was about to strike from behind, Amben's hair seemed to part and an eye in the back opened, glowing at him. "Do you so much wish to die? For I would not kill you, but I would remove your hands and feet...with fire." It was a good illusion, well convincing. The bully began to ran and was not seen again.

He stepped up to Morgause, speaking in a loud enough tone that those around could hear it. "I thank you for holding my spell component Lady. Though it was not the intent I had for it, it was well used, and well said. Thank you for stepping up and reminding me of my duties as Magician, both to you and to the town. I am, of course, your humble servant."

There were some starts and worried expressions around the area. Their pet magician? Violent and powerful when he wished...and placing himself at the service of the Rogue witch... Well, they were both magikers...mayhap he was training her and making sure she behaved herself. One called out to her. "Mistress, can you brew a love potion?"

Amben's head snapped around. "You dare ask such a question? Whether she could or not, it is illegal! And she is above such things. Get from my sight, before I report you! This is no Gypsy to kowtow to your petty requests, but a lady of abilities, even if most are too foolish to understand true value when it smacks them in the face."

He turned back to her. "I apologize for answering in your turn, but as Magician, I must regulate magical violations. Would you be so kind as to permit me to walk with you? I have many questions about the Barony...and you might have a few for me..." His voice pitched lower. "...perhaps about the internal regulation and control of abilities that want out." Only she could have heard the last, and his face was so earnestly helpful, and...shy...
 
She was expecting a vicious assault from the large man. Who wouldn’t want to attack after having pig blood dumped on their heads? Already she was priming herself to be swung at. He had done it before when she was a younger girl; not nearly as frightening looking as she was that day, and he had paid dearly for it. A chunk of his ear was missing thanks to one of those peculiarly sharp canine teeth of hers.

Yet it never came. Instead the new wizard stepped in and took care of the man. The scent of sizzling flesh filled her nose and she whimpered, flinging her hands over her face. Her sense of smell, too, was much stronger than the normal. Water rose to her eyes but she dignified herself. Her hands came away from her nose and she took in a deep breath, steadying herself. She refused to look weak in front of these people. She already dealt with their scorn and barbs as is. A strange sort of smirk crossed her face. At least this magician was not as feeble as she assumed.

He was clever, too. Holding his spell component indeed! But she understood. He was saving her from further humiliation, having offered her the blood in the first place. A sweet sort of smile crossed her lips. Maybe he would be worth the time to get to know.

Then her smile faded as someone asked her to brew a love potion. Of all of the trivial and boring things to ask for! Love potions, according to her books she read, were bad business anyway. Anything that had to deal with forcing an emotion as powerful as love was. Still it was a pretty rude thing to ask. Her tongue was not quick enough, however, and again he cut down the questioner almost instantly.

“Do not worry about it. Frankly I would feel better if they thought I had you beneath my thumb. That way they will further leave me be.” Even when she was speaking calmly her voice had a wild trill at the end. “I think a walk would do me well and so would questions.”
 
He led her out of the central square into the merchant warehouse section, it was quiet here at this time of day, and he turned right down an alley, stopping at a door.

"This is one of my family's warehouses...my father hides juice, snacks and wine here in a chilled basin...we all know about it, but he's so cute with his secret."

Amben merely waved his hand and the lock opened. "Please come in out of the heat where we can chat. I hope I might call you Morgause when we are not in a formal setting...for I would very much like to be your friend.

I...that is to say...I want to be friends...but, if it were possible, I am also quite attracted to you...the way you carry yourself like an angry cat...the way you just don't back down....father says I need to do that more...and well, yes...um...you make my heart race when I see you...and only a bit of that is fear.

Oh damn! I'm mucking this up. I'm sorry, I shouldn't blame you if you walked out, but even if you find me a mousy, airheaded wizard, I could really use a friend who doesn't lacquer her opinions and tell me how wonderfully mysterious I am... I really don't ever see you doing that idiot eye flutter thing, or faking a faint.

You know, the last court fluff who did that? I said, 'a little lightning will wake her up, and she got up and ran. Father was quite angry, and I almost tore a muscle keeping from laughing."

He poured a drink, and turned back to her. "Enough of me being an idiot before you. Professionally speaking, you should have sought me out when I was appointed. Has no one told you how to deal with the shift nature? I can see that your parentage is only partial...the Sight gives me that. But dear girl, you torture yourself needlessly! That cup of blood I offered. If you'd drunk it, you would have thrilled for a moment, and then you would have felt calm relief for days.

What is in you is not evil or perverse...but it does require addressing...gods! I sound like one of my professors dictating to you. But, truly, I do so because I care.

As a professional, I would prefer your talents not be wasted. As a friend...I want you to be a bit more at peace...and happier. Making you happy seems to oddly mean much to me.

And my thanks for distracting that ass with the blood. He caught me by surprise and could have taken me down...nobody ever did that for me. 'fight your own fights' Dad always said, but I notice that bullies always have a group backing them up.

I'm rambling again...but, if you wish my assistance dealing with your magical nature, I would be honored to assist, even if you tell me that my asinine request to court you has the same chance as a candle on an iceberg."

He stopped and blushed. What had come over him. He just couldn't stop talking. He waited for her scorn and rejection, after being such a dope, what else? And she was not one to mince words this was going to hurt. He tossed back a glass of wine, bit his lip hard, pulled his shoulders back and looked straight into her eyes...oh...those feral eyes...

As he gazed into them, his head tilted and a smile of pure appreciation came softly onto his face.
 
She was happy for the heat of the day to be abated so she happily entered the warehouse with the wizard. What did she care if it looked scandalous? People would talk regardless about them now. They both had stepped in and defended each other. It hardly mattered if they knew one another or not beforehand; clearly they were doing things if they would jump to the other’s aid. Morgause did not understand that sort of logic but she did understand that she was fully compromised now.

And, again, she cared very little of being socially gouache.

As she adjusted herself on the floor of the warehouse, placing the basket neatly beside her. The cool water bottle clanked against the side and drew her attention for a second. Noises like that made her jump; they shocked her she supposed. As he spoke she let her hair tumble completely free. She hated to pin it back and up all of the time. A strange smile crossed her lips. He was so scattered with the direction he wanted to take the conversation. One moment he spoke of wishing to court her and in another breath wanted to take the role of her teacher. She found it all quite endearing.

“I do not think it should hurt to be courted nor be taught how to use this supposed magical ability that I have. Or shifter ability or what this may be bubbling inside of me.”

In reality the prospect of learning more of the thing that people so hated about her and scorned her for was frightening. All of her life she had tried to hide it deeply inside of her. A nervous hand ran through her full and wavy hair and she shook it about, making it appear wilder and fuller.

“I shan’t lose control… right?”
 
When did the sensual tigress grow so sweet? He had seen how she seemed to act to all others around her.

Did she actually fine something she liked in him? Was there a chance that she appreciated his intelligence, his gentleness? Or maybe his ability to have great power and control it.

He flipped his cloak wide onto the floor, motioned for her to share it and offered her a glass of the wine. "Whether you consider me the best suitor or not, I appreciate such a gentle reply. I will be as attentive in my pursuit of you...though I hope you don't run too far too fast...as I will try to be patient in my teaching of you."

He lifted a hand from her lap without asking permission. Yet he didn't affront her, as it seemed a totally natural thing to do. While he was thrilled to be touching her at all, this was his work.

He very carefully inspected her, even pulling a microglass from his pocket. As he inspected, the professor in him bubbled forth.

"Losing control...should we not say rather 'loosing control'? If one trains a horse, one gradually increases the lead, so it becomes used to commands at a distance. Even the falconers do the same. Yet we, the humans who rule all, somehow believe that we can force our own 'wills' against what we truly want.

So many miserable people. Doing what they hate, because someone told them in was what they ought to be doing. I am rather the social coward. I mislike conflict. Yet I stood up to my father when given the chance to pursue that which called to be and made me yearn for it...to do things with my mind and will that others could not.

Just what are you afraid of? That if you let these wild feelings you attempt to hide (and it isn't really working, you know,) from others...to let them go? Dear lady, this is not so much cutting a new waterway, as it is allowing the dammed up water out to prevent the breaking of the walls."

He waved and the door shut and locked. "Now, there are no witnesses, and no windows to worry about. You are safe from public regard.

If you chose to relax that control you are so proud of, you maybe safely allow that other core to show itself...yes, it can be resubmerged, that is only an act of will.

The question to be posed, Morgause is this: Will you really want to submerge it again? And why should you? For other's regard? To make your parents happy? Or because you have an odd fear of losing yourself to what you are. I assure you. You will still be Morgause. Perhaps with a bit of a different perspective. But you will be yourself.

So if you open up, you will be safe. And so will I. I can see that you don't bear me ill will, and that matters the most in such things. This is not some slavering beast that yearns to break forth...and the magical abilities to have clamped so well will not go melting flesh from cute puppies...it is the opportunity to go beyond what others can do...for you are different, yes. And it is a wonderful difference that calls to me to admire...and to be comfortably close to, even if you should not desire me.

The only real question here is...will you try? I will assist if you ask, but you must ask."

Having said his piece, he released her hand. He could feel latent powers warring within her. What she could be, he didn't know...if she open up her spell abilities, she might never choose to reveal her other form...and vice versa. It was still all up to her.
 
She wasn’t full shifter so she could not take the form of any sort of animal. She did not even grow extra hairs and the hair she did have that wasn’t on her head was small and fine. It was more of an urge to run, scream, and hunt; to kill. He would not understand. No one ever did and the idea of unleashing that particular part of her was not pleasing at all. She brought up her hand and dismissed it almost at once.

“If I were to do that right now you would be ripped to ribbons, I fear.” Her voice was short and blunt. She winced at her own bluntness and then rethought her words. Hastily she added a few things. “I do not mean I wish to kill you. It is just the upmost urge that surfaces. Or, rather, the urge to hunt. Blood and carrion and just the feel of life fading have appealed to me more than they should.”

There was an awkward pause. Why was she saying this all? He would likely think her mad if she were to go on. By the end of that conversation she was sure that she would end up in chains and carted off in a small cage. A tongue came out to lick her full lips and as he gave her hand back she pulled it quickly away.

“You wouldn’t know how it feels like. If you’re expecting me to turn into some sort of animal I am sorry to disappoint you. Although I feel like an animal a good majority of the time I can’t change into one. Nor do I want to. I dislike dogs wholly.”
 
He smiled. "Morgause...the hunting need is the most common. Let us get you something to hunt then...and I beg to differ...to enter journetmanship, I had quite a few forms forced on me. Some of them quite unpleasant. I am fully willing to concede that you have had a tough row to hoe. But I would respectfully ask that you know me quite a bit better, before you deem to judge what I do and don't know and have experienced. There are many with magical talent...but there are reasons there are not more wizards. We have to...endure things...that most would refuse and be horrified by.

I am disappointed in your view of me that I would advise you without knowing the affect, and the risks. If you wish me to remove myself from tutoring you in your nature, sobeit. Perhaps you can ask your father for another more competent tutor."

He was shaking from frustration. Was she like all the others? Could she not see that he added up all the information and saw the answers that others seemed to just miss?

"And no, I agree that your management of your abilities is so low that you certainly can not change into your other form, though if you ignore it, you will likely be attacking others. I spent two years studying formology! I received awards for my understanding and ability to assist and control wild talents... I truly CAN help you... Do you think that because a doctor does not have a plague that that alone prevents him from its treatment?

Really Morgause...that was rather a low blow. I'm just trying to help and I happen to know that I'm the most qualified to do so, so getting mad at me and pushing me away accomplishes only sticking your head in a bucket.

You are a noblewoman. Please act like one! We are not children. I have seen you step up to a fight, so why do you flee from this one...when it is much more vital to you?"
 
“Read my lips. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. A. Dog.” She rolled her eyes. What she hated the most was when people tried to fit her into their vision of what she was supposed to be. Or even what she was. She COULD not change, though she did not know that yet. It was not in her system to do so. “I do not want to change just because you think I should. How would that be any different than to catering to the whims of the rest of them?”

This was getting ridiculous. If he intended that she turn into something like that then she would have to decline his tutelage altogether. She may have been acting like a child, according to him, but she knew what she wanted out of this and what she did not. Being an animal was not attractive to her. Hunting she could do and even learn to implement her strength and speed and sensitive hearing and smell, but she did not want to have ugly fur covering her body. She did not want it!

“You think little of my actual wants in this. You are thinking only to slake your curiosity. I do not wish to be a test subject. I do not wish to be forced to change into anything I do not want. You would be quite the villain to force it upon me.”

Morgause had just about enough of this man.
 
He just stared at her. "It seems, lady, that I am incapable of communication this day.

While shifting is one path, and I have no clue what animal that might be, harnessing the power of the feral nature to do good in your life is another option that I thought would appeal to you.

I was making an offer to lend of my own power to get you to whatever your goal may be...I'm not trying to gain a pet, although having the girl I wish to court owing me a kiss might have been pleasant.

But I have unwittingly answered you."

He waved a hand and the door unlatched and opened. Sadly, he sat on a keg, and placed his head in his hands, he had almost certainly managed to drive her off.

"I'm sorry Morgause...my only motivation was to help you...if you don't desire that, then that is your right. And to think I'd thought you['d want to learn hunting spells..."
 
“You were concentrated on the shift aspect. I don’t think I can nor do I ever want to learn.” Morgause simply stared at him as she spoke. It was odd. She was not used to anyone truly wishing to help her. “I do, however, wish to be able to harness what bubbles inside of me. I do not think whatever it is, is evil. Just raw.”

Her eyes moved toward the door and hurt shimmered in her eyes. So he wanted her to go then. It was not uncommon for people to want her to leave but she was so sure that they would have been able to speak through this. If she was prone to crying she just might have. Instead she gripped her basket tighter and she stood, a bit of a stocking leg showed and she shook out her skirts to hide it quickly.

“Its not that I don’t want to learn. I don’t want to be forced into something I am not. I don’t want to be abandoned whenever I do not fulfill whatever expectations are on me.”

She had already shattered so many hopes and dreams of her mother and father. They expected her to be as wispy as a willow wand. Instead she turned out to be a curvaceous creature with an unfashionable coloring. Who wants a tawny brat compared to a cream colored vision of female beauty?
 
"Just as I would prefer not to fall for a woman whom I find both alluring and exciting for her own doggedness, and then be cast aside as just a man who has helped her attain what she wishes...but I am willing to take that chance, for I believe your affection would be well worth gaining.

I'm not judging or accusing that you would do this, nor assuming that you have an interest in me, just trying to honestly state my motivation from my part. I hope you don't think me base, but looking at you...I really have never wanted some slip of a girl, but a full woman who is willing to push me down in the bedroom, because she desires me and won't take 'not tonight, dear. Work was hard' for an answer. A woman whose body has the soft full curves that truly shout of femininity.

As I said though, do not judge that I merely desire you physically. You, like me, have had others try to cast you into a mold into which you are ill-suited. And we will NOT go gracefully into those molds. I have been fortunate enough to find another direction, but still people only view me as that odd duck wizard, whom they can try to wheedle a spell from. Do you have any idea how angry that makes me...that not one person in this whole Barony has ever asked what I would like to do with my free time? Because they would make me HAVE no free time.

Morgause, you have fire within you that I sadly lack... I so admire you for that, and it calls to me. With such a woman to strengthen me, What might I accomplish?

And maybe...just maybe...If I were there for her...when her anger jumps beyond what the situation would appropriately warrant...if a touch of my loving hand might calm her and my powers serve to allay the wilder impulse within her until such time as they are needed..."

He blushed and looked away from her. "Please forgive me Lady. I did but speak from the heart and the heart makes fools of men. If you wish, I will never speak of such again."

He waited for her to respond, and then said. "Come and kneel right in front of me, palms extended forward facing up. Arms almost touching. When I place my hands upon yours, lift your feet so that you balance upon your knees. This is a balancing exercise. As your body becomes out of balance, depending upon me for control, so will you inner power waver and respond to my own trained influence. We are going to try to make sections of power, which you will be able to perceive within your self.

Raw energy does not have to be tied to the wild and beastial, but can be directed toward your endurance, or your resistance...or maybe even an extension of the will. We shall try several experiments and therein learn where your greatest talents lie.

Mine is an obvious expression of power...yours could be more subtle, but might be just as strong.

Now close your eyes, for I am going to ask you to do that which goes against your nature, I believe...TRUST ME."

He was breathing slowly with his own eyes closed. This was the first bridge. Most were too fearful to every cross it. Those most promising made it after two or three tries. He had stunned his own master by doing it the first time.
 
For a moment she wondered if he was simply waxing poetic. A woman was supposed to have curves but small and dainty ones. Her waist was supposed to have hands easily wrapped around it. Heaven forbid if there was an ounce of fat or, in her case, sleek catlike muscle. Equally atrocious was a bust that could overflow a man’s cupped hands. Mostly she was looked at like a fishwife; unattractive and solely something of interest simply because of the way she appeared.

It was hard to take in someone who not only thought her looks attractive but thought her whole being was intoxicating. Altogether it was an awkward feeling that encircled her then. One of power and wariness. A brow lifted and she relished in the feeling.

“You do not have to hold your tongue around me. If you wish to speak that way, you may.” She told him through a hushed whisper, as if admitting that she enjoyed such admissions was a terrible thing. Morgause was a rather solitary creature, stoic except the occasion she felt the need to frighten one of the more delicate girls.

Whenever he asked her to kneel before him she did so without question. It was not that she fully trusted him but she trusted him much more than much than the average person. What he asked was awkward for her to do. She lifted her feet from the ground and almost instantly they fell back to the floor. She did it again, letting the weight of her body rest solely on her knees and she winced. Her breasts were heavy and she could feel their drag on her body more acutely. She nearly gripped his hands painfully.

Her eyes closed and her long, lush lashes rested on her cheeks. Her mouth pouted outward in concentration.
 
That was actually encouragement...she liked his talking about his attraction to her...how wonderfully inspiring...

But at the moment, he had business to attend to.

He felt her lose her balance and regain it, then rely upon his own grip.

Slowly, he flowed in across her aura and up to her power wall. He had intended on starting immediately, but he was stunned to see that their auras were a near perfect compatibility match! What a blessing.

He returned to her power wall, it was bleeding magic through irregular joinings. She was just trying to keep it together. He felt a moments indignation and resentment that she had been untutored and allowed to get into these awful straights, but then he remembered and calm himself. What he felt she could feel right now and he needed to be the leading, calm teacher.

His mind touched there and there - extending only the lightest tendrils of power to match her wall more perfectly, and to separate unneeded layers within. He created access between her wild power and her environmental control, setting to allow just a small fraction to their. Immediately, nearly 30% of her weight vanished as her power shunted the force off. He also put a just a tiny amount into self energy, to remove fatigue and give her greater strength and endurance. The rest he moved to a banking reserve, leaving a trickle for her wild, to help serve her as a warning agent of threats.

Finally, he opened his own walls to her, letting her see how he felt and about her and his interests and desires. This was it, a full revelation, his admiration, friendship, common interests...and his arousal...all tied up in a neat mental bow.

Slowly, he pulled his mind back to let her regain her own mental balance.

"Morgause...I'm here, open your eyes. I hope you feel better, and I hope who I am has not angered you or pushed you away, but I had to be honest."

Amben pursed his lips, so wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her. But at this raw moment of change for her, without her will to do so, it would be like a teacher raping a student.
 
At first it frightened her. The images that swarmed her mind were intriguing. Her body felt as light as air, making her form trembled and her chest rise and fall rapidly. As the aura swept through her, she relaxed considerably. Her body stopped its quaking and her grip lessened on his hands. Full lips fell open slightly and she breathed heavily through her mouth. It was almost as if she was sleeping.

Then his thoughts, emotions, needs, and desires flooded in to her. He was hopeful of this all and was aroused at the sight and thought of her. Her cheeks turned bright red at this. She was used to getting some looks from the men of the village but she never imagined anyone could feel that powerfully for her body. As he pulled away she felt the weight of her own body once more. Her mind began its unquiet chatter again and she wobbled.

The tops of her feet plodded softly against the ground and she cracked open an eye, the golden hue shimmering in that slit a moment before she opened her eyes fully. He was looking at her oddly and she wondered if, in that moment, he wanted to take her. Instantly she shook that prospect from her mind.

“Thank you. That was mind opening, truly.” Her voice was a softer, sweeter tone than previously.
 
He was so gratified, he couldn't speak for a moment.

She had seen him as he truly was and she was not repulsed by him, but grateful for his help.

He helped her to her feet, glad that his robes hid his arousal.

Softly, he hugged her, he knew it was the right thing to do for both of them. "I left some leads for you." He whispered into her ear. "You now will need to practice controlling your weight. Don't try to fly. Women can't...not without a device to press against. That's where the broom business came from. But I'll teach you to use the soles of your shoes. So many wonderful things I can teach you. You truly have talent, Morgause...
But I have to tell you something awful... when our auras touched - well, I could not believe it. We are almost a perfect match to one another.

To be blunt, Morgause...I want you...I am enamored of you...thrilled by you...and I want to love you. I am speaking of real love, devotion, care...not just the physical side, though you make my heart race.

I will not be truly happy until we are together. I'm sorry if this is inconvenient. I will use no magics upon you other than those of my heart and hand. But I hope, in time, those will suffice to gain your own love.

Now..." Regretfully, he released her. "We must return to the festival, and part ways, lest bad rumors grow. I will follow a discreet distance if you like...or if you want to be escorted the rest of the day..."
 
Although his robes hid his arousal from sight she could feel the hardness pressing against her as they hugged. It was odd to show this level of affection. Morgause had never been prone to it. Even when she was a child she would prefer to quickly hug her mother and, perhaps, give her a quick peck on the cheek. She was even colder to men most of the time. As he whispered in her ear, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. There was something altogether sultry about it. More so than what she cared to admit.

“Could I use a broom though?” She asked, managing to choke out the words. “I know you say its nonsense but I have always fancied that stereotype.”

Call it childhood whimsy but the idea of flying around on a broom caught her attention. As did the rest of what he went on to saying. He had said that their auras fit together perfectly which flattered her and confused her. She wondered how energy could go with one another. Was it like a puzzle piece or more of a being able to be knit together quite well? The thought was difficult to wrap her head around.

“You… we should keep some sort of distance from one another for the time being.” At first Morgause was going to let him escort her but she was becoming shyer by the moment around him. She felt lighter than what she ought, she figured, and it bothered her. She was still skittish; still afraid.
 
RetroWitchcraft said:
Although his robes hid his arousal from sight she could feel the hardness pressing against her as they hugged. It was odd to show this level of affection. Morgause had never been prone to it. Even when she was a child she would prefer to quickly hug her mother and, perhaps, give her a quick peck on the cheek. She was even colder to men most of the time. As he whispered in her ear, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. There was something altogether sultry about it. More so than what she cared to admit.

“Could I use a broom though?” She asked, managing to choke out the words. “I know you say its nonsense but I have always fancied that stereotype.”

Call it childhood whimsy but the idea of flying around on a broom caught her attention. As did the rest of what he went on to saying. He had said that their auras fit together perfectly which flattered her and confused her. She wondered how energy could go with one another. Was it like a puzzle piece or more of a being able to be knit together quite well? The thought was difficult to wrap her head around.

“You… we should keep some sort of distance from one another for the time being.” At first Morgause was going to let him escort her but she was becoming shyer by the moment around him. She felt lighter than what she ought, she figured, and it bothered her. She was still skittish; still afraid.
Click to expand...

He smirked. "Yes, a broom still works...and has flying advantages..."

He listened to her request...it wasn't a rejection...not quite, but he couldn't help drawing bak just a bit and stiffening. "As you say lady. I will wait until after you leave and take a different route. Should I tell your father that I recommend training you in the kraft if you are willing?." He withdrew a little behind his office.

"I will do what is required to assist you."
 
She wondered what could have changed his attitude so drastically. Morgause was not used to dealing with people and this was one of the reasons why she was avoiding it. They could never decide on what emotion they wanted to whole. For her dealing with that was irksome. Her whole frame stiffened and she began to walk towards the door.

“You may tell him whatever you wish.” Was her reply as she went through the door. Truly she shouldn’t have been so angry but she just didn’t understand. Maybe she would never understand. “And do whatever you see fit.”
 
Now why was she mad? She'd put the distance there?

He stepped out after her ignoring his earlier words and her current ones.
"Dammit, Morgause, Wait! Please....

I'm not used to this...feeling like I want and need another person, but I care for you deeply...and it hurts when you push me away.

Is there any chance for us...because that is what I care about...please...don't just walk away...talk with me...

I...I really don't know what to do around you. You excite me and confuse me, and if you care at all, you will come back here now."

If she returned, he was waiting to hug and kiss her so tightly...if she didn't...well, he'd wait...and go to work.
 
She bit her lip and looked over her shoulder. Morgause had not meant to hurt him. Certainly he had been a good deal kinder to her than anyone else had ever been. Yet she was frightened at the same time. No one had ever had that connection with her. No one had ever wanted to.

Slowly she turned and heaved a sigh, making her very ample endowments rise and fall. Hands were placed about a narrow waist and her curvy hip jutted out to the side. Did she care? Of course she did. It was hard not to care about someone who was willing to water a parched plant, so to speak, but still. Jagged steps brought her back to him.
 
"Morgause...I"

Then he was hugging her tightly, and kissing her neck. He was her mentor...but he also loved her...that mixing of matching auras had taken him.

"Whether you aware, you are darling and beloved by me...I have seen you for you, and you are what I want. That is not going to change and if you can't accept and...want that then I will be spending a lot of time away from the city...because just the sight of you takes me.

I know it seems odd, but with the gifted, it is often so.

Can you let me know where I stand? Can I kiss you and hold you?

Would you hate me? I have to know!"

He pulled her into a deep powerful kiss, hugging her tightly, waiting for her to yield or fight.
 
She should have fought the kisses against her neck; fought the way he held her tightly but she did not. Instead a fire twisted viciously at her innards. Sparks followed his lips and made her feel warmth all over. His words hardly mattered. Morgause knew that he wanted her and knew that he would have her. The slight demanding to it made her feel, grotesquely enough, even more drawn to him.

He had not even waited for an answer before he pressed his lips against hers. At first she resisted, pushing slightly against his chest but after a moment or two she began to melt. Her hands dropped and her lips pressed hungrily back. This was all at once and it made her head spin too fast.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom