The Witch (Airi and SuperSrs)

[SuperSrs]

The journey had been a long one; through swamps and deserts, up the treacherous Gaspar Cliffs and down the always turbulent Vaikai River. He'd lost track of the carriages he'd been on, the people he passed and the demons he'd been forced to cut down. It was a journey that'd tire out even the hardiest knight, and Griffith himself was hardly of such a caliber. It'd been three years since he'd last laid a hand upon a blade, and while muscle memory served him fairly well in the last few encounters the twenty-five year old had to wonder just how well memories would serve against a foe supposedly as fearsome as the Demon Queen. It was only because of his blade that he stood a chance, and still Griffith had to ask himself if even that would be enough. The witch was far above her rank and file minions in terms of power.

The bitter winds began to chew at him as he made his way down the mountainous path, teeth grit as he kept the cloak tightly wounded around his form. Pale gray eyes wandered upwards, set upon the mansion farther up the hill. Despite the howling winds and ferocious storms, it still stood in one piece. The witch's magic was certainly strong, even the former knight had to give her that. But even it would have a limit, so he hoped.

From beneath the heavy cloak, Griffith kept his right hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of his blade. So far, he hadn't had the pleasure of encountering any more of the woman's mooks. And while he certainly didn't mind a chance to relax, the young man was also well aware that the whole thing was just a bit too convenient. Were they planning something? Was there a trap waiting near the entrance? Or maybe his blade just scared them...

"Psh, right..." Unlikely. The bastards couldn't feel fear, they'd charge at him even if it meant certain death. Of that, he could attest.

Regardless, he kept both eyes and ears open as he grew closer and closer to the mansion entrance. It was time to make good on the deal and go back home.

Stay safe, sister, you'll be free soon

 

[Airi]

Inara lounged lazily on her red velvet sofa, staring blankly at the pool-mirror before her. There was absolutely nothing happening. Not even a ripple on the pool, which perfectly reflected her slim figure, clad in blood red silk robe that showed the soft curves of her breasts. Her inky black hair was splayed everywhere around her, some even had its tip submerged in the pool. Sighing, she lifted up her opium pipe and inhaled the sweet smoke until deep into her lungs. The narcotic substance made red vines appearing around her golden irises, but she could fix that with just a flick of a hand. At the moment, however, nobody was requiring her audience, so she decided to just shrug it off.

It was funny, really. She had thought that by relieving her status as a Queen and left the politics to her underlings, she would finally have some spare time to use for her own. Terrorize a nearby village, for example. Or disguise herself as a nasty troll-woman and scare off a passing traveller. Little witchy things like that. Instead, humans started avoiding the mountain like a plague once the news spread that she was moving in. Oh well, don't some people have to pay for the price of notoriety? She took another drag of opium again.

The Witch Queen was about to shift into a more comfortable position when she detected a ripple began forming on her pool-mirror. At first, she thought it was caused by her hair, but after a second look, the pool no longer reflected herself but instead another creature. "Greetings, Your Pale Majesty, the ruler of all that is dark and mighty." The voice that came out was that of a man, but the reflection on the pool was that of a hellhound. Without much ado, Inara waved her hand at the reflection dismissively.

"How many times have I told you not to use that form when talking to me, Jiawei? It gets in my nerves." A couple of apologies, then Inara watched contently as the reflection before her morphed into that of a pale man's with a black masked helmet. "That's much better," she purred, then straightened up and put down her pipe. "So, how is it going with my beautiful dark kingdom?"

"All is well and in order in Ashura, Your Majesty," her commander reported. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke, "It is actually you that we are concerned about."

Then Jiawei told her all about the holy sword that could nullify her magic, and how one of the kingdoms of human have sent a warrior bearing the sword to finish her once and for all. Inara let out a sigh at the end of his story, and Jiawei must had mistaken it as a sign of worry because he added, "Shall we send some reinforcement your way, Your Majesty?"

"What? No, there's no need to, Jiawei." A wide smile escaped her lips. "Let me handle it, or do you not believe that I'm powerful enough to protect myself?"

"Of course not, Your Majesty." Jiawei bowed courteously. Before he could say another word, however, Inara flicked the ashes from her pipe into the pool, distorting the image until it finally returned into a regular pool-mirror reflecting back her figure. Stretching her lean limbs, she began to rose from her feet. A ripple formed softly on the pool, then, showing the image of a fur-bundled man scaling up the mountain. Finally a human at last. The image of her sprawling bathroom came to mind, and the Witch Queen then made haste to reach the place. Making herself look and smell representable would be the first step towards her next plan for survival, that was for sure.

 

[SuperSrs]

The roaring winds began to die as Griffith neared his destination, air not nearly as bitter. Perhaps it was the witch's magic? Or maybe fortune had just decided to throw the young warrior a bone. Either way, he was hardly going to complain. Regardless, he kept the fur cloak close to his form as he trudged his way through the last couple yards of snow, the rocky ground giving away to a cobble-path slick with ice. He was mindful of where he was walking, knowing that it'd be something of a disappointment to come so far only to crack his skull open. A pale hand resting gently against the hilt of his blade, his tired gaze wandered up the mansion, taking in the surprisingly intact structure. Though he was hardly one for architecture, Griffith was able to at least pick out the Eastern influences in the buildings construction. The way the roof sloped, the colors used, a 'delicate' appearance compared to the more 'hardy' buildings of the Grigorian Empire. Psh, Crispin would've loved to see this...the man was obsessed with eastern architecture...

Both eyes and ears open, his senses as keen as they could be with all things considered, the man slowly made his way all the way down the path, approaching the massive door before him. His gloved hand slowly reached out from the folds of his cloak, a slight frown dotting his lips as his hand slowly reached towards the knob. Probably locked, though at least it was worth something of a t-

Click

"...nevermind," The hinges creaked as he pulled, the door groaning as the man slowly pulled it open. Opening it enough for their to be a crack roughly his size, Griffith bid the frozen outside a much relieved fare-well before slipping into the confines.

"Huh..." The witch's presence was easy enough to see, the entrance hallway lit by several candles. Not a spec of dust was able to be seen.

Now, where are you...?

Keeping his steps light, Griffith began to move forward. Face still cloaked in the shadows of his hood, the man prepared himself for the witch's attack. She almost certainly knew he was here...so where was she?