RP:Bewitching

Kelay Tavern

Louhi enters the tavern after lingering outside the door for several minutes. Perhaps she hoped the crowd would thin or perhaps her favorite table was occupied. Whatever the reason, it seems not to be an issue now and the witch maneuvers her way through the tables with a pleasant smile plastered on her lips. In passing, she notices a few new notes stuck to the public board and pauses to look them over. Louhi nearly squeals in delight after seeing that one of those posts is, in fact, a response to her own. She practically skips over to Mesthak and leans across the bar. Hushed words are exchanged and the witch looks momentarily taken aback by his response. The proprietor then points her towards Drael and her smile returns. "Excuse me. Excuse me sir," she calls to him. "Are you Drael?"

Drael lifts his fallen gaze of gray-black eyes 'pon the mention of his name--the voice is unfamiliar to him, therefore resulting in a squinting scan across the venue. After a brief moment of searching, he spots the White Witch near the bar, Mesthak a shadowy figure just beyond. The Sentinel of The Fold watches the young female, studying her under a critical eye, before a nod of his head ensues. "Yes, I am Drael, My Lady." His casual tone comes, as serene as his otherwise placid features--for now though, the presence of his fever lies in the creases of his brow, and the violent swirls that are his eyes. "What business do you have with myself?" Despite his obviously feverish state, his steadfast bearings might denote to his calling, that of a soldier.

Louhi brings a dainty hand to her lips to stifle a mischievous giggle. Before she would respond, the witch closed the distance between herself and the feverish man. Reaching more intimate proximity, she puts on a more sympathetic tone and her expression softens considerably. "I believe it is you, sir, who has business with me. I am Louhi, the White Witch, and I've come to cure what ails you." That said, the woman attempts to check for herself the severity of his sickness. Her hand reaches forth, seeking his forehead with little concern for whether or not Drael might appreciate her doing so.

Drael manages to pull back in the slightest, before her hand encroaches upon him. Once contact is made, he struggles no more, believing she was only doing what she knew she must--he had learned well from childhood not to question healers at their work. Though little to his knowledge, she was no healer. The Warder stifles a cough with aid of the back of his hand, while allowing her to do what was needed. "What do you think, Lady Louhi?" His brow is beaded in sweat, yet the chills are racking his body with no evidence of letting up. How tired he was of this fever. If he were the superstitious type, he might be lead to believe the Swamp was reaching forth, attempting to claim the victim that barely managed an escape from the dark creatures that lurk there.

Louhi tsks gently as she draws back her hand and clasps both together against her stomach. Whereas she appeared genuinely concerned for the man outwardly, the cogs of her mind were sinisterly turning. "I think you are a sick man, Sir Drael, but you are far from death's door. I anticipate no trouble ridding you of that pesky fever and it will be my pleasure to do so." Gently, the witch takes his hand and offers to him a sweet and amiable smile. "But not here. A tavern is no place for someone with a fever like yours. Will you come with me?"

Drael proffers another nod of his head, jet-black hair swishing about with the gesture. "Indeed, I will come with you." Oddly enough, he felt a drawing to the lady, perhaps due to her looks, maybe even the smile she so easily dawns. Whatever the case, the Swordsman rises from his chair, erecting himself to his full height, his hand still entwined with the females. His eyes--a peculiar swirl of grays and blacks--peer down to her, a smile gripping his youthful features. "Lead the way, Lady Louhi." The tone in which he speaks is smooth, and perhaps charming to the right ears. Face to face, or eye to eye, as it were, Drael begins to walk towards to threshold that was the entrance to this venue.

Louhi 's lips curl into that same sugary, phony smile and she bats her eyes in a flirtatious manner. Just enough so that Drael may even think he imagined it. She squeezes his hand lightly and makes her way for the door as well.

Magical Herb Shop

Louhi releases the man's hand upon entering the herb shop, which happened to be mysteriously empty. With a flick of her wrist, she removes her long brimmed hat and it lands haphazardly upon one of the small tables. "This shop should have everything I need, Sir Drael. Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable while I scrounge up the necessary bits and pieces," she says softly. She moves about the room, her shadow dancing along the wall as the candles flicker. She turns every now and again, giving Drael the hint of a smile and a sly look that could easily be mistaken as a trick of the light. However, everything has a purpose and though he likely has no way of knowing it, Louhi has already laid the groundwork for her spell.

Drael feels a longing begin to stir within him the very moment she releases her hold of his hand. He was suddenly struck with a feeling of loneliness, it's match one he had not felt before. Strange, it would seem, for he knew nothing of this other, and he was already feeling like he didn't ever want to leave her presence. Quickly enough, as if he had no other choice, he finds a seat, slipping into it with an audible 'clunk'. The sound of creaking leather ensues, as he leans forward, struggling to catch a glimpse of the smile she kept giving him--or was she even smiling? The Warder could not tell for sure, but he something was very odd about this arrangement--something that was itching in the back of his mind, screaming out to him, and yet only to be ignored, and muffled by another force within him. Peculiar… "Will this take long?" He did wish to be rid of this cursed fever, but at the same time, he hoped it would be a long ordeal. He didn't want to find himself from his presence before he was ready!

Louhi brings over a small basket, filled to the brim with her gathered supplies. She finds a chair as well and drags it nearer to the ailing man. She sits close; close enough to feel his breath as it passes his lips. "Don't you worry your feverish little head how long it will take, my dear sir," she grins, a new tone in her voice now. Perhaps her boldness comes from the fact that it may already be too late for Drael to stop whatever enchantment she intends to lay upon his heart and mind. "You and I shall be seeing much of one another, I think." With those apparently damning words, Louhi reaches for the man's forehead again. Her thumb presses against the hot, moist flesh and with some red, powdery substance taken from her basket, a half circle is left in the wake of her swift digit. Grinning once more, the witch removes her hand and turns her attention upon the basket. "Now, don't you feel a little better already?" In truth, however, she had not even attempted to cure his fever. The bewitching was complete and with any luck, the sigil she placed upon his brow would make him into her willing slave.

Drael did not feel his fever leave his body, nor does he feel it at all. No, for where there was once the feeling of his terrible fever, it is quickly replaced with a desire--a desire for the White Witch. That voice in the back of his mind instantly stops it's desperate fight to be heard, quelled beneath the flooding power of Louhi. What had she done? The Swordsman smiles to the female, a smile that may or may not denote to his longing, "Thank you, mistress Louhi. I feel whole again." Indeed, he did, for where there was once the feeling of solitude, isolation, there is a deep feeling of love for the opposite. The youth had to struggle to keep himself from reaching out and touching her, wishing to abridge the gap that was oh-so-very far, but in reality only mere inches; her sweat breath against his lips left him with nothing but a wish to serve. To serve. What had he gotten himself into?

Louhi leans in, brushing a cool hand against Drael's cheek. "It is my pleasure, as I said before. I ask for nothing in return, but feel free to reward me if you must." She then pulls away and eyes the sigil she left upon his brow. Slowly, the red powder grows faint until not even the sharpest of eyes could detect its presence. The witch grins and picks up a vial from the basket filled with items that had been mostly for show. She offers it to Drael with only a halfhearted attempt at a charming smile. "If you begin to feel any further malaise, do take care to suffer the bitter taste of two drops from this vial. It will keep you healthy." At least that is her promise.

Drael shudders with rapture from the feeling of her hand against his flesh--how sweet it was indeed. A single hand rises to take the vial, and quickly pocket it within the satchel at his waist, a brief nod of his head in answer to her words. The soldier is quick to state his unyielding desire to serve her at the mention of rewarding her, "Whatever you wish, I will see to it that it is done." His voice is an attempt at sounding charming, or dashing, really--though the effect might be different than he would think for the White Witch is probably not attracted to him in the way he is to her; where he saw the love of his life, she might see a slave to her will. His gray eyes study the intricacies of her features, only to stop when meeting her gaze, "Will you allow me to serve you?" He asks in earnest, his hands moving to clasp one of hers in kind.

Louhi would appear surprised by such an offer, though the shock could easily be recognized as an act by anyone not currently under the witch's spell. "Oh my. Serve me, you say? I have never had such a generous offer in all my life, I must admit," she states, exaggerating her surprise again. Suddenly, however, her voice drops low and her appearance becomes more sinister as if she had undergone some transformation then and there. Bright, peaceful green eyes are replaced by hard, intense jade. "Serve me you shall, Drael. I have many tasks for you. All of great importance." With that, as suddenly as she changed, she is back to her old self and smiles to the man, her voice soothing and yearning as she says, "You will not let me down, will you?"

Drael fights against the urge to lean back, that voice once more attempting to shake him from the Witch's spell, yet to no avail; he was only filled with the longing to serve her, and the fact that her demand came so abruptly from her small form when in comparison to he, the man could not help but feel even more attracted to the dominance the female portrayed so easily. A sick thought, indeed, and one that he would not be thinking, were it not for the spell so entwined about the soldier. "I will not let you down, mistress Louhi. I swear it, whatever you command, I will achieve." The man makes a show of his devotion, his steady gaze hardening on her, demonstrating his steadfastness to serve.

Louhi nods slowly, proud of the desire she has sparked in this man and satisfied by the eagerness he feels to follow her commands. She lifts her hand and runs her delicate fingers through his hair. "Very well, my dear one. You will serve me until such a time that you feel your debt to me has been repaid." She can barely contain the laughter that threatens to burst from her lips at the thought. As if that day would ever come so long as the witch kept her spell strong. And now came Louhi's favorite part. She would leave him alone to stew in his desire for her until the very idea of being away from her would make him sick. "We must part ways for now, however. I shall call upon you when I have need of you."

Drael swallows those words down hard, fear beginning to streak his youthfully handsome features. How terribly alone he would feel without her there with him! The man struggles to keep calm, yet evidence of such is clearly portrayed in the contortion of his brow, furrowing together so. "If you wish, My Love. I will be ready to serve you at any time. Yet please, do not keep from me for too long?" His last words are formed in a desperate question, his hands squeezing ever-the-more tightly on the opposites.

Louhi leans close again her lips brushing against his cheek in their path for the air next to his ear. "We will be together again soon, dear one. Until then, think of me," she whispers. There is no time for a reply for as soon as those breathy words pass the witch's lips, she is up from her chair and headed for the door. She looks back, the candlelight dancing upon her features as she waits to see more of that dread in Drael's eyes. How she loved to see that pain.