Purgatory Awaits

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From the enslavement of one to another, such was the life of a Nightbrother. Anderit and his younger brother were given to [member="Mediha"] by their clan leader. The reason? No one wanted to keep a fully grown adult who had padded the trials with flying colors home. Those kinds of men were destined for greatness in service of their ladies; the means of that greatness varying.

He had taken the appointment with an open mind. Service to the Nightsisters would not be horrid -- in fact, it would likely prove to be far greater than a life back at the village. Here he would have some form of a life, though the chains of servitude remained. He had desires for something beyond that; those thoughts brought about by the Ros' challenge to the Nightbrothers. There was a life beyond that of a servant, and he yearned for it. For but a moment, he had felt as if he'd achieved such by claiming the Sith's weapon: a lightsaber with two blades. The weapon glowed a faint shade of crimson when it came to life, and its power was unlike that of any tool of war he'd ever had the pleasure of using.

Unfortunately he was bound to his current existence. The sun was falling beneath the mountain peaks in the distance, and the sounds of twilight rung in his ears. The bugs, the quiet dialogue of others, the monsters in the forests beyond, all brought him some sense of peace. Of course, that was due to end shortly.

The lady Mediha had called upon him to come alone to her hut. His brother was busying himself with the hunt, and Anderit could only guess as to why she had called upon him at such an odd time. He had a guess, and it was one he was unsure as to how he felt about. The idea that this woman would be using him and his brother for sport was...unwelcome. Still, he had no power to deny her.

So he entered the hut clad in his hunting leathers. He'd gone through the trouble of cleaning himself up for occasion, brushing his hair to the side, and making sure he did not smell like the backside of a Rancor.

"M'lady?" He asked tentatively, "You wished to speak?"

 

[Mediha]

Mediha was not happy.

It had been one thing to use the Nightbrothers to further her own ends and accomplish her mission-- a task which had seen her rise from acolyte to full 'Sister, a long overdue change, as some of her fellows put it. She had had her reasons for not petitioning for Sisterhood sooner; in the background one might learn unimpeded by power struggles. Once she had learned all she could, only then would she step up and rise in the ranks, the unexpected victor coming from the shadows. However, her chance had presented itself, and her cunning in this situation had pleased the Clan Leader; the acknowledgement had been well worth the wait.

Why, then, the old woman had thought to saddle her with the additional responsibility of not one but two males Mediha could not fathom.

Insulted and angry, Mediha had spent the day in her hut, ignoring the existence of her new... pets. Tch. Males. Yes, she had been the one to acknowledge their magickal talents, but then sell them, or give them to older Nightsisters who wished to bear magicked spawn! They were in the prime of youth; they would serve as good stock. Mediha, though she had tried to use it against Ras, had no actual interest in the men for herself. Her bed was warm enough with her alone; a mate-- or even a temporary breeder-- was another chance for someone to kill her while she slept. Was that the intent? Had she shown herself too dangerous, able to take on a full Nightsister as a mere acolyte? Even with them as servants, she would get no rest if they were near.

And yet she had them now.

Screaming internally in rage, Mediha leaned heavily on the table and let her head hang for a moment. She had summoned one of the pair, the one who had seemed less openly hostile at the maze. She would straighten him out and then deal with the other. She would have to make clear ground rules-- and discuss their magic with them.

What a bag of snakes that would be.

The door opened and Mediha instantly straightened, staring down the tall male as he entered. Though her outfit today had none of the theatrical elements of yesterday, she still wore the traditional markings of her Sisterhood, paint which masked her appearance, if only slightly. He entered deferentially, but Mediha wasn't fooled; he had killed a Nightsister. He would not hesitate to kill her if she gave him the opportunity and inclination to do so.

She pointed at a chair. "Sit."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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This was odd.

Anderit was not the type to ask about courting rituals. He had remained celibate whilst in the clan village; whether that was out of his own desire was irrelevant. Still, he had heard the stories told by the older men. What had come to imagine...well, it was not not this.

Regardless, Anderit did as he was told. He set the lightsaber -- his lightsaber -- on a nearby table and settled into the chair. He stared up at her intently, curious as to what her reason for calling him here was. If not to fulfill a carnal purpose, then what? Did she want to send him out on some chore? Something befitting of a servant rather than a mate? Such was not uncommon among the Nightsister hovels. The Witches treated their males well enough. The Sisters? Less so.

"Not what I was expecting." He admitted as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He was not sure how he felt about that. Surely the sister was attractive enough, and if he did not believe so, then it would not matter. His place was to serve, however much he wished otherwise. Still, this one had assisted him in procuring this lightsaber weapon, and so he would obey for the time being. There was little hope for anything beyond an existence of subservience here.

He offered her a wan smile; one designed to ease whatever tensions there might have been. The last thing he needed was for the woman to gore him for being too brooding.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

As soon as she had seen him move to do as she commanded, Mediha briefly let herself sink back into her considerations. The role he and his brother would serve would be an easy conversation and not one she predicted them having any issue with. It was their magic that required a particular approach-- and her introductions to them which would ensure that their attempts to kill her were lessened, if not stopped entirely. She could handle herself against them while their powers remaining untrained, so long as she was not caught off-guard, but once she began honing their skills...

Did she need to?

She directed a withering look at Anderit for his comment as soon as it broke into her thoughts. No. Nor I.

The Clan Leader had suggested that they might make her good body guards or, with training, become warriors to defend all Nightsisters. That was a mistake. Trusting anyone other than yourself with your life was asking for it to be taken from you. But she could not argue with the Clan Leader, full sister or not. Train them she must; they clearly knew their powers were there and had begun learning simple skills already. With training, they might look less poorly on her in the future if they decided it was time to show their true colors and betray the system to whom they owed their life and fortune.

Her expression cleared so that the male couldn't read what she was thinking by her face alone. Gently. "Tell me your name." The demand was almost snapped at him. More gently. Mediha cast her eyes down, then crossed her arms across her chest and lifted her eyes back to him. Her tone was more even, though still cold, as she added, "And, if you can, what you know of your magic."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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It was never proper conduct to laugh at a Nightsister. Still, Anderit was finding himself having trouble with refraining from doing so. [member="Mediha"] was small. Smaller than most of her kin, and Anderit was rather large. It was a sudden thought that brought him a bit of amusement amidst all the dark thoughts. Then she asked for a name, and he would happily provide.

"Anderit of clan Rinaren. I am full human," he paused, "Little. It is within me and my brother. We've hidden it well. Until yesterday anyway." He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. There was no point lying about something the woman already knew about. Straightening up, he looked her dead in the eye; testing her as she was him. She held the authority, but Anderit would not be controlled by a weak woman. He would not father the children of someone who could not thrive on her own.

His eyes narrowed.

"I do ask that you pick my brother or myself for your carnal purposes. I'm not one for sharing." A hint of humor laced his words, but it did not show in his expression. "What shall I call you my lady?"

He was testing his boundaries; seeing what he could or could not say. Given a bit of freedom, thing might prove to be more enjoyable. Have it taken away, and...well, Anderit did not know what he would do. He'd had many tight-lipped masters in the past. Dealing with another would not prove to be too difficult.

"Why do you ask? About the magic I mean?"

 

[Mediha]

Mediha let him finish getting this word in, letting the rage seethe within her. If he attacked, the anger would benefit her. What did he believe was going to happen? No, that was clear, but the idea was ridiculous. Had she given some indication that-- Ah, the conversation at the maze. He clearly hadn't picked up on the insincerity there. Moron.

"I have no need of your services as a breeder." She didn't snarl it, but that was the best she could manage. She was still walking a fine line in her irritation with her Clan Leader and the situation overall. No, it wasn't technically his fault, but it was absolutely his fault. "I have no interest in children or burdening myself with extra baggage. You will be body guards--" Even that thought was laughable, or would have been, if Mediha ever laughed, "-- And nothing more. I will not entice you to my bed or saddle you with tasks that will surely get you killed. In return, you will not enter my bed or my home without permission and will do exactly as I ask."

Having the man sit made conversation much easier for her, as it put her almost on level with his height. It was not much of an advantage, but it was one. She recognized the push from him, the testing of her control over him, and for some reason it calmed her. He was no equal to her, but he had some confidence. He would be able to take care of himself; perhaps he would not be as much of a burden as she had pictured, other than the time she would waste on training him, time she could be using to train herself.

Was that the reason? Was it the Clan Leader's attempt to leash her own skills?

"I ask because you have it. You hid it." For a moment the thought alone stopped her, and she looked away to master herself. Her voice lost the sharp edge of moments before, though she was still firm. Her eyes, gray bordering on blue, were direct, but it was no longer about competition or exercising control. They were hers. She had no need to show them that; they would understand or she would make them understand. And, after all, wasn't the idea to make them not want to kill you in your sleep?

"You hid your talents, meaning they went untrained. You have clearly learned some control on your own, but minimally. It does nothing to aid you in using it; you have crippled yourself out of some ill-founded fear. You will be trained, by me, from this point forward." Her face relaxed further as she studied him, inspecting the lines of his body with her eyes as the power of her magick swept out to investigate the edges of his power, prodding him as much to test the depths of it as to see if he noticed. "You will learn to use the gifts given you for the benefit of your Clan-- our Clan." Her eyes narrowed in thought. How strange.

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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Good.

He did not find find [member="Mediha"] dreadful, but he certainly did not like her. Not right now as they were. A bodyguard was something he would do well, and in time he would ascend beyond that. This Sith had promised liberation should he follow her path. Though he knew little of their ways, he found it was something he could cling to. This subservience would not be his end. There was more for him to become before his days came to an end.

Thank the gods I found one of the smarter ones.

She was no master of the arcane. Ros had called her out on her ineptitude; Anderit could capitalize on this if need be. Of course, there would be no need so long as she taught him what she knew as promised. Given time he might surpass her, and then other paths would be open to the Rinarens. The two brothers would not be stuck on Dathomir forever.

"Good. I've got bigger things on the mind than children."

And I would break your tiny frame.

"It was not fear. I had no desire to be used as fodder for the Mother. You know as well as I do that the Witches and their Mandalorian allies rule Dathomir. We are a shadow. I would not be sent to die needlessly, and neither would I allow such of my brother." Honest once again. He set his hands on his knees and leaned forward, inspecting his would-be owner. If not a mate, then a slave, but there was still opportunity for more.

He shifted uncomfortably at her mental intrusion. There was little he had in way of defense, but Anderit could certainly feel it. It felt as if she were creeping up the back of her skull, and he did not like it.

His hand shot forward to take hold of her wrist. "Don't." It was not a threat, but a statement. There were boundaries, and Anderit was no slave. Servant though he was, he was not her plaything to be toyed with, and neither was Zared.

"The clan...as you say."

 

[Mediha]

Mediha's eyes widened at the touch and she jerked back, both physically and mentally, ripping her hand from his grip. He touched her? What right had he to touch her? His next statement broke the hold her rage had over her; had it not, she couldn't predict what her actions might have been.

Her hands clenched into fists, eyes blazing. "You will not lay a hand on me again." The words were soft and cold, more like her usual self, though imbued with an anger that would hopefully cool in the coming days. "Clan or not. We are not equals. You will learn, and perhaps we will one day test one another, but you will not best me." He could choose to belief the truth in those cold words or not; she was so busy staving off the after-effects of her shock. "I will assist you as you assisted me. Take what you are given and ask for nothing more and perhaps you will find some semblance of skill which will allow you to confront the hated overlords of our home."

Her wrist burned where he had touched her. Rather than addressing it further, she reached out and lifted his ill-gotten gains as she exerted control over herself, forcing back whatever she felt at his presence, his intrusion on her person, and his audacity at addressing her as he had. The hilt was... interesting. As a true witch, she had not learned to use the saber, though she knew many others had chosen to take that path. She preferred to focus on her actual talents; that was where she would win her victories. She turned the saber over, looking for the activation key and using the movement to prevent herself from a further outburst. Her eyes suddenly snapped to Anderit's, the saber between them, and she set it back on the table. She wasn't about to hand it to him.

"You may address me as Lady. You need not bother with given names or other titles."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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Charmed.

The road ahead was going to be a long one. That was not to say that Anderit would not rise to the challenge wholeheartedly. He would just need to learn how to handle [member="Mediha"]. She clearly had some form of issue; quite unlike the rest of the sisters. First she spoke of them as equals, then she made it clear they were not such. The only reason he even knew her name was from the Sith woman. Things were going to be very...interesting.

"Lady." He grunted, jaw set in frustration. It was all he could do not to lash out at her. How dare she paw his trophy as if it were some form of play thing. He was loyal to the sisters, as loyal as one could be to the women spoken of in fear by one's brothers, and would not strike out against her. That did not mean he could hide his disdain. Whatever efforts he had made in the past to hide his presence in the magiks was gone.

Anderit was angry, and he wanted it to be noticed. The outrage flowed from him in waves; enough to engulf others sensitive to the magiks in their depths. He was a passionate man in all that he did, be it love for his brother, his desire to succeed, or his hatred toward those things he did not agree with. Currently, the Lady was leaning toward the latter.

"When do we begin?" He growled, managing to reign in his anger somewhat with each syllable.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Mediha felt it, clearly, from the first ripple. She braced herself, standing calm and still under the onslaught, eyeing him to see if it was intentional. Perhaps, but... he was untrained. It could just be his emotions getting the better of him. Rage. Good. She felt the same.

This was not how this was supposed to go.

Another enemy for whom she would have to watch her back, then. It was nothing new. Kind or not, it would have ended the same way. Mediha's mouth twisted briefly, before she leaned her hip against the table. She would deal with his actual training now, at least. An-- overly bold male he might be, but she wasn't going to let that affect the effectiveness of her teaching.

"I would say when we have had time to relax our tempers, but you need control for that." Her magick pressed on the outer edges of the flood, staunching it so that the experience was contained to her hut.That gave her an insight into his depths certainly; she would have to see how much of that was controllable power and how much was emotional residue. "Before you wash your power over someone who will take it poorly. Close your eyes."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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The Nightsisters had monstrous customs. There was rumor that they actively participated in the sacrifice of sentient beings, and some even spoke of cannibalism. Did he truly want to delve into the same powers they did?

It did not matter. He had no choice. He forced himself to reach some remnant of calm -- something entirely lost to one so detached from any kind of peace. The life of a Nightbrother was conflict, and there was nothing better to explain this truth than the exchange between the duo. He stared up at her for a moment, chest rising and falling violently as he regained some manner of control. She would not dare take his trophy. It was the only thing he had to his name other than the clothes on his back. There was no chance for anything more on this wretched world -- the Lady would not deprive him of it.

"Let's not hate one another," he murmured, recoiling back into his chair. With a heavy sigh, he did as he was told, allowing her whatever control she might have wished for. He, like his brother, was a well of untapped potential. Dathomir was a world strong in the force, and its children often bore its mark. He had a connection not unlike that of [member="Mediha"], but it was undefined, raw. She would need to craft it into something useful if she ever wanted anything from him beyond petty words.

"I'm going to assume there's nothing magikal about the back of my eyelids?"

 

[Mediha]

His facetious comment was impertinent, but she felt her own anger ebb at the attempted joke, loathe as she was to let it go. "No. You're already settling, but you need to learn to do it purposefully. I want you to turn inward." What did that mean to a beginner? She inhaled, but refused to let out the sigh. "Perhaps meditation first." She hopped up onto the table, crossing her legs as she observed him from an ample distance away. "I assume the Nightbrothers taught you this, but, if not, inhale for a count of seven, hold it for a count of seven, and exhale for a count of seven. Continue that-- evenly-- until I tell you otherwise."

She listened to his breathing, watching him and feeling his power level decline. He had begun exerting control over it as soon as he took command of his own emotions, but that wouldn't be enough. Eventually, he would learn to control it without the need for meditation, as she had. When his emotions and power seemed manageable, she said, "You should feel as if you are drifting. If this isn't the case, focus on your breathing and continue it until you do. If it is the case, I want you to seek out what feels like.." How had her teacher described it? Well, she hadn't. 'Find your core' was less than specific, and he was male. She would have to find another way if she expected him to make headway. Mediha didn't close her eyes, but she did turn herself inward. "It might feel like a ball of crackling energy or a protective coating that's slipped away from its set form or a wellspring overflowing. Whatever is at the core of you. Find it."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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He could do this. Meditation was an art that had been practiced by the Nightbrothers during downtime. Though it was never one of Anderit's favorite activities, he was entirely capable of centering himself. Of course, he did not tell the Lady this, but rather listened all the same. He focused on the aspect of his being that had allowed him to hide from the sisters' perusal. The same power that kept him hidden from the recruiters of the Dathomiri.

For a moment, he touched its power. His mind drew itself along the edge of its depths, barely skimming the surface. The world around him began to fade, save for the Lady herself. The moment of clarity allowed him to reflect on this woman who destiny had tied him to. He would have to serve her, for a time, but that would change eventually. It would be up to him to decide her fate, or so he allowed himself to believe.

That power expanded further. He dipped into it, allowing it to take him wherever it wished.

"I feel it." He frowned."It is a raging flame. What does that mean?"

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Mediha's gaze refocused on him; the centering had done her good as well. She was able to observe him clearly, without her anger or exterior forces clouding her judgement. Cores shared some basic shapes, but the intensity and, from what she had been able to gather, style of each varied wildly based on the person. She intended to do a study of the phenomenon at some point, when she had the time.

"It means you need control," she said quietly, thoughtfully. Fire at his core made sense, but since she was uncertain of the exact implication there she left it alone. She could make guesses of course: impassioned warrior, one destined to consume all in his path. It would require investigation to confirm her hypothesis, though. “The fire at your heart should be a blaze, but one entirely restricted to the area you set for it. Your first task will be learning to tame it.” The maze came to mind. His training as a warrior might help make that an easy task for him. “You are the one in control; your magick does not control you.” Her voice, now that she was no longer being antagonistic, was rich and steady. "Grasp it. It will burn, in a way, but you will grasp it all the same. Force it to fill your hands and nothing more." Mediha's sharp eyes watched his face, noting minute changes in expression. She carefully reached her power out to his, remaining at the edges to observe and assess his progress rather than instigating another invasive investigation of his potential.

"It will not all come the first time; it does not need to. The majority will be enough to teach it shape.”

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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He did not like this.

The secrets of the arcane were not something he had ever hoped to master. There was little that could not be tamed by steel, as he had learned. What use could he have for these magiks beyond keeping himself safe from that of others? Perhaps that alone would be reason enough. His visage was one of stone as he tried to access the untapped energies of the magiks. He was no longer there in the metaphorical sense; lost to his own mental perceptions.

"Touch the fire. I'm sure this will be lovely." He grumbled, his words dripping with their usual sarcasm. His hands balled at his sides in displeasure, but he did as she asked. The would-be-acolyte reached out to touch the molten core, and recoiled instantly. That hurt. Not in the physical sense, but something more. It was wrong, unnatural, and his body was telling him to step away. Unfortunately one did not have a choice when under the heel of a Nightsister.

He tried once again, this time ready for the impending agony. His expression twisted into a look of twisted pain and rage. The magiks would not define him; he would define them.

"I have it." He sighed as his chest rose and fell at a violent pace, "It is mine."

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Mediha ignored his quip, watching impassively as he struggled with himself internally. Eventually, she would explain that the fire was not actual fire-- or, hopefully, he would pick up that obvious tidbit on his own.

He finally panted out his triumph, but Mediha continued to watch him impassively.

Yes. He had it, but she watched the wisps escaping. The moment he let it go, it would be its own master again. He needed to tie it, bind it to his will. It would take time for him master it wholly, but the binding needed to be now.

He at least did as he was told without questioning her; that pleased her. She remembered her first time trying to grasp her own energies. It would not have been any more pleasant for one who had let them run unchecked for so long.

The young woman tracked another wisp, keeping her power just out of its reach. She was tempted to take it, to twirl it around her finger and manipulate it for her own use, but abstained. Control was something she also needed to exert over herself. He might be male, but she had just agreed to teach him. He was an acolyte, her acolyte, now. Some level of respect needed to be accorded to him and his brother and it started with his boundaries, ones she had violated earlier to such detrimental effect.

Mediha coasted around the edges of Anderit's power again, but there was little she could do from here but give instructions, and she wanted to see his powers from the inside. Guiding him would be easier-- if he allowed it.

"Will you let me in?"

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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That was asking much of him. Perhaps too much. Anderit allowed himself to open an eye and meet her gaze. He would not allow [member="Mediha"] to gain control of him as he had seen other sisters do with their warriors. He would be no slave. He searched her expression for some shred of sincerity, and felt as if he had found it. Perhaps they could work off of that.

"Do not seek to control me." He frowned. Drawing in a deep breath, Anderit let down what little defense he had against a mental assault. The gates were open, and Mediha might enter them before they closed once again. Truly, she could have gotten in anyway. She had that way about her -- gifted with the magiks, but weak as one would expect. She wished for power, of that he could see, and she likely suspected he would be another pawn in her game for dominance over the Nightsisters.

Fortunately -- or perhaps not -- Anderit's ambitions lay beyond the clans. Mediha would be a stepping stone, and perhaps more if she could let go of that quiet hubris. Of course, for now, the roles would remain as they were. Anderit was the student, and he would listen to this little slip of a woman until a better path presented itself.

"...but yes, I will."

 

[Mediha]

Who among the Nightbrothers had taught this one to treat the witches of Dathomir with such disrespect? But Mediha was tired of the confrontations and, against her better judgement, let it slide. Such were the faults of men. He would learn his place or, before too long, she would be forced to put him down or recommend his destruction to the Clan Leader.

It would be a shame. Although it was the way of things to sell or train gifted Brothers from a young age, Mediha had no interactions with any Nightbrothers born with magick. It would be a curiosity for her, and exploring the differences between their skills as he advanced-- assuming he showed wisdom and did not try to turn on her-- would be interesting.

His warning she brushed aside. I have enough to do with controlling my own power, she thought dryly as she reached her magick out and sank into him. There was a bit of resistance, but that was to be expected, as even with conscious acceptance he would still flinch away from power he clearly feared. Mediha avoided his mind, focusing instead on the wellspring of magick before her, descending until she could feel the full extent of his untapped power.

He has enough. It would make training him easier. If his brother was so gifted, they might actually be worth more than their swords when she was done with them.

Her own magick was safely tucked behind her own walls, far from his core other than the manifestation of "hands" she needed to show him what to do next.

"You need a cage, a barrier between your core and yourself. You bleed magick when you use it; it is inefficient, wasteful. The barriers will be what your hands are now, but present even when you are not focused on them. You will need to strengthen them over time, but it is ultimately worth the trouble."

The teacher checked his grasp on his magick from several angles and then slid her ghostly hands along his, adding an additional brace. Tainted magick met pure as the fire of his core licked across her hands, and she shuddered. Too long had Mediha practiced the darker arts; the feeling was going to be unpleasant for them both until he, too, had used some of the darker spells.

"Follow me," she grated out past her discomfort and guided him into the shaping of his protection, moving his hands so that he was pulling the magic directly from his core and spinning it into the first barrier. She never touched that force directly, never risked accidentally tying herself to him or tainting the pool. "Nothing gets out and nothing gets in but what you want. It is safety against those would take this from you, safety against those who would control you through it." That he would understand. "So build."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

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Accepting the guidance of the Nightsister was unsettling. This realm was an unknown to Anderit. He dealt with things in the material realm: he could rend, stab, and cleave through whatever obstacles stood in his way. Here? It was all about the mind. It was not that he was lacking in this area -- Anderit was quite intelligent given his position within society -- these concepts were simply difficult to grasp.

She was touching him, but at the same time she was not. It was not a physical presence, save for that of her magiks. The hand that reached out to take his own burned; not unlike the scathing pain he had felt when opening himself up to this ethereal realm. This time he could withstand it. He took her own in his, though the experience was discomforting. There was something wrong about Mediha. As if she had dabbled in things not mortal should ever lay claim to. Was this the power of the magiks? Was he simply unready to come to terms with them?

No. This is what I am.

He followed her example. The wall was incorporeal, but it might as well have been stone. At first it was difficult to imagine; then it came to him in waves. Each little brick began to add up, and that defense, the separation, became something tangible. He had learned to hide his magiks from others. Now he was learning to hide them from himself.

"This seems lonely," he murmured as he tried to process this new found strength, "You're cold. Ambitious, strong, but cold." His lips pressed into a thin line as he described what came to his mind's eye. "Why?"

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Mediha felt when Anderit took over the task in full, as the use of magic changed from her spinning to his more solid, piece-by-piece construction. They thought differently; unsurprising, but the distinction was useful. Even without invading his mind, she was learning about him. She gradually eased her hands from his, allowing him to handle it himself. Her focus was on his progress, and so she didn't register the faint pull inside of her until he spoke.

He was taking from her mind.

She immediately withdrew her presence from him in its entirety before his leeching transitioned into sapping her magickal strength; her exit was so swift that she left a faint vaccuum behind. His magick would accommodate it shortly. Mediha found herself back behind her own eyes, staring at his tattooed face.

She had gotten sloppy, underestimated the strength and mishaps of a fresh learner, especially one with a powerful will. (Had it really been so long since she had made similar errors that she had forgotten?) What he had gleaned of her aspirations she did not know; it was something to keep an eye on for the future. His interpretation of her was... interesting. Accurate, she supposed, but interesting in its interpretation.

She was safe, stalwart, and needed no deep connections to strengthen her. Is cold how he sensed it? What did that say about his own needs and understanding of the world?

Mediha recrossed her legs, silent and contemplative. It wasn't his fault that he had 'peeked'. She could not hold it against him; tonight, she would reinforce all of her shields for future lessons. She was stronger than her appearance implied; no matter his eventual strength, he was yet untrained, and she had ways of staying one step ahead of him. This would not happen again. If it should become a purposeful invasion... Mediha had safeguards against those who tried to infiltrate the sanctity of her privacy. It was apparently time to implement them. She would just have to hope his magick didn't slip again; she was sure the Clan Leader would not hold her responsible for the results if something... happened.

"You will strengthen those defenses every day until I can sense nothing else from you. No tendril should escape you." Her face had a softer quality to it; something in her reflections had eased the lines and eliminated some of the harshness her anger had lent it. "Only then will you begin to learn to use your magick for your own use."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]