Thread: Man Witch [Goody + Prince]

Alluna had delighted in the evening-- it had been so long since she'd been so at ease and entertained. For the years they'd been apart, she'd spent most nights alone or among disappointing company, men who wished to impress her into submission or women who wilted under her strength, and many, many times, people who were there more for the intrigue of sleeping with someone so deadly than to actually see her for the woman she was. If she had known so many people would willingly climb into bed with a viper just to see if it would bite she would have been more cautious in those earlier days and time only made her more harshly discerning of who she allowed close. Her reputation as a warrior began to proceed her and that became easier and easier as intrigue for her deadly touch became fear for its effects and the idea that she couldn't control it. That wasn't all foolishness, when she'd arrived at the academy for witches it had been because she had come of age and in her resplendent beauty many young men had vied enthusiastically for her attention. She had been sent for training from the nation of Phetros, a place known for its darker skinned beauties and rich, vibrant culture. The birth of a pale child into such her reputable family had nearly been taken for some sort of curse, but she had been a rather normal girl, stubborn and quiet, but capable of sweetness and loved by her parents. As she got older, the tolerant but suspicious perception of her pale features seemed to change in a way she did not favor. Among her many peers her albinism set her apart as a unique pearl with all of the lovely, curving features of darker women, but white as snow instead of the more common deep browns of her fellow women. Her unique mutation brought plenty of attention when she had been young, but when she'd reached maturity and her body had unfurled into a swelling bust and wide, supple hips, she suddenly was less of an eye sore and more of a treasure to be claimed. That came with all sorts of efforts on the part of boys in her home clan, unwelcome kisses to her knuckles or cheeks, flirtatious touches along her neck or her hair, and a variety of other romantic gestures that put them in harms way by making contact with her skin. She'd left a string of puking, ailing men in her wake until she'd arrived at the academy to see her deadliness trained and sharpened to a point, and for it, that morning after crying out into the quiet dawn under Uther's practiced, magnificent form, she could allow such affections from the only man she wished them from, his boldness to press his lips to what was practically the most deadly part of her an act that sent a thrill riding up her spine. Her fingertips were dyed a cool shade of purple up to her middle knuckles from the potency of her deadly magical art, a stain that revealed how easily and how often she could produce the toxin and administer it with skin contact alone. And yet, he kissed her there, pressed his cheek against her knuckles in a way so endearing she thought she might buckle and wrap him up in her arms, tip him back into the sheets and have yet another go at him for his sweetness. There was no time though, she needed to see to her new student-- the male witch, so she smiled down at him for his demands and gave a curt nod, her eyes bright with adoration. Perhaps I won't eat just to see if you can manage it like in the old days, Uther. She brought one of her hands up to stroke his cheek fondly, her thumb brushing that familiar scar that traversed it's way across his lips and up his cheek. I only joke, She amended, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. I would not make you wait to see me. She said it and it felt like the earth might swallow her whole to lay something so bare even when it was wrapped in a completely different context, so she quickly added, Lunch. I will remember. Enjoy your time with your new girl, then. Do tell her to keep her eyes above the waist, or next time I see her I will make her regret her gawking. She chuckled, reminded of how the girl's eyes had wandered her form the night before like she was trying to drink in the sight and keep it for later. Bold little brat-- Uther would get on fine with her if she was as brave as she was brazen. Alluna tucked her finger beneath Uther's chin to kiss his lips properly before she wound her robe closed and headed out of his quarters, dignified and stern once more just as her lover, and hopefully soon, her guardian tended to be when wandering the halls of the guardian's training school. She made her way beyond there in the quiet, still morning by memorization alone, having wandered down into the guardian's sect and back up into the academy so many times she could likely do it blindfolded. Heading into her room, she dressed for the day, and only realized with an amused, flattered look in one of her mirrors that she'd have to change into something more concealing because Uther had left her with a plethora of dark, blooming bruises across her neck, her collarbone and breasts. She wouldn't have it any other way, but she dressed herself from the light, flowing top she'd chosen into a high-necked, close fitting top that tucked itself into her high waisted breeches, the colors of all she wore cool blues and deep purples that made her paleness strikingly blatant, if not soothingly soft against the darker, cooler shades. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail and regarded herself in the mirror again, her body a fantastic specimen of both femininity and strength and the proof of her sexual exploits hidden away. She made her way through the halls then to the dormitories for the witches, recalling with ease where they had put the male witch even though she had protested to the idea of a man being in such quarters at all. She had little fear for the little spit fire in the guardian's school with Uther around to care for her, but a man in the women's quarters? It was like letting a fox go breezily wandering into a chicken coop and expecting it not to feast. And she found the man just as she feared he might be, sprawled across the bed with a woman tucked against him, a bottle of feather having leaked its last onto the floor leaving the room to reek of sex and booze. She grimaced, and made her way around the bed, first grabbing a hold of the girl's ankle and dragging her down the bed, clapping a hand over her mouth just as she was about to scream in alarm. Get your clothes and go to your room, you fool. Should I catch you even looking at this man for more than a moment I will make your academic career here nothing short of torture. She hissed down at the girl viciously. Are we understanding each other? She asked, feeling the girl nod her head weakly under the fierce grip of her hand, her pretty dark eyes wide and teary as she recognized just who had a hold of her face. Get out. Alluna finished before releasing the girl, watching her scamper away panting, nearly throwing her dress on backwards and simply picking up her sandals in her hands before she was out of the room. She regarded the sleeping man then. Quinn, was his name-- dark hair, roguishly handsome, on the thin side, but not terribly weak looking... this was the first man to ever gain ethereal, magical powers? This hound dog who had used his first night in the academy to get laid had burned rings of ash into the great hall around the stone of awakening? If she hadn't heard it from the matrons themselves, looking at him now she wouldn't have believed it. Well. He would learn his first lesson upon awakening, and she intended to teach it to him with a memorable sort of agony. She sat down on the bed across from him and rubbed her hands together, focusing herself to the task. Just a pin prick. Just enough to make him vomit up his insides and regret the night of debauchery he'd committed on those hallowed academic grounds. She could do that, she assured herself, even though she'd only used her touch in the last several years to deal lethal blows with her poisonous talents. She leaned over the man and pressed her fingertip to his collarbone, sliding the finger slowly down his chest until she reached his navel. The touch left a streak of deep purple on his skin that faded like disappearing ink as the magic took hold and she crossed her legs and waited for him to register the pain, the twisting in his gut, and the devastating nausea that would set in any second and wake him from his sweet little dreams. She hoped he'd vomit on his bed, that would be funny, and she'd make him clean it up too. And once he was done retching and writhing and being pathetic, she'd let him know that she'd make him feel a thousand, a hundred thousand times worse if he brought another girl into his chambers while he was studying there. It was hypocritical, but she didn't care-- she was a far better witch than him, a rigorous student in her time, and she was in charge. He would do as she said, not as she did, and that would become crystal clear by the end of the day. Last edited Mar 4, 2019