Witch Way to Hevn?

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Location: Courtyard, Castle Mandragora, Ryloth

Hevn had spared no expense in preparation for this moment. The courtyard was lined thickly with rose petals that swirled with the breeze. A strip of candles line the boundaries he established for their duel. Hevn approaches the circle, stripping himself free of his coat, and tank to a bare chest. He was inevitably going to be on the receiving end of some destruction and saw fit to set his attire aside.

This would be a contest of magic. Bedrovelse armed himself only with the gauntlet of C’thulu Plaga upon his left hand. It was his main focus of magical power and with it he wielded magic gracefully.

His date for the event had likely received his summons. After seeing her pour into tomes, grimoirs, and scrolls as opposed to a data bank, he’d handwritten a letter for her.

At midnight when the moon is full, I welcome you to a demonstration of magical aptitude. I desire to test your strength against the wealth of my sorcery. I would be most pleased with your acceptance. I look forward to our first dance. ~Bedrovelse Hevn

Midnight, on the full moon. It would be romantic if their intent wasn’t to submit the other to the will of their power.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom’s immediate reaction after reading his handwritten invitation had been, “Wait. What? He was clearly delirious when he had first fancied the idea!” But then she recalled what he said about a duel the day she had met him, how it helped reinforce a bond of trust and was an intimate way to get to know someone. She knew well the ways of the Nightbrothers and the Sith regarding how they get to know a woman, and frankly she loved that way, but [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"] is not like any other man, one of his major positive points, and most certainly the underlying reason fortifying her attraction to him.

Something about him just lured her to him. What that signified was as alien to her as his ways. He mystified her all throughout, through external observation, to even her own personal internal spark of emotions.

How mocking, the masters of this Universe!

Talisman of Transformation hummed as she Apparated into the night and restored into her physical form just outside his circle. Pomsty stepped over the line of candles. Her eyes drank him in. She could still blush over his ways.

A Nightsister’s Talisman of Counterspell, a brilliant Moonstone she had been recently working on, charmed to the max, worn about her neck over her heart, accentuating the pastel blue of her eyes, which glowed equally as much with shimmering light as her radiant personality. She did not comprehend what to expect from his choice of play today. None have ever asked her to join them in such a performance. As a woman, she never expected she would be standing opposite her beloved who asked her for a duel. It’s just not something a Nightsister ever felt the need for. But she trusts the both of them will learn something. And if the Master of Death beholds such an encounter dear, then she most certainly is on that bandwagon with him. For something about herself is in kinship with Bedrovelse Hevn’s state of being, and yet with all her might, she would rather remain in denial over such a dramatic detail. Her curiosity over him is never appeased, and it is fueled by her own fear of what she might be, and what path of her own future may unfold before her.

In all honesty, there is only one way to find out. Why shouldn’t it be today, dealt with respect, rather than the enemy on the battlefield, left wrapped up in rawhide amidst the limbs of the scattered trees?

“My Magus,” she greeted warmly, with a curtsy, her precious wand still tucked into her sleeve.

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

POP!

Ha, wasn’t that how she always worked her magic. He had never seen anyone else do it. Never fought anyone that could. Throw their mass through space like that. Teleportation. What kind of limits did such a power have? Could she do it beyond these grounds? Did she have to see the place or know it well? Her skill and talent with it fascinates him. Her acceptance to their duel elates him.

He’d been among the witches in sparing stints now. Yet his goals upon introduction were nowhere close to achieved. He desired to exchange knowledge and power with them. None had taken place. Pom was the closest thing he had to an ounce of respect on these grounds. He’d finally learn something about magic as she knew it, and this was the best way he knew how. He was never sharper than in battle. He saw clearer. Thought faster. Perceived all through the rush of the dark side much quicker than he could being lectured or reading. This was his way. He was pleased she would humor him with an attempt. For all he knew one of them was going to put in a clinic.

Her welcome was strange to him. He’d heard so many interchangeable terms for what he was to be called in these walls. Warlock, witch, sorcerer, night brother, magus, and his stance remained the same. All titles that paled to explain the depth of his power. None of them fit what he was at heart. A conqueror. Of knowledge. Planets. Power. Foes. He took dominion over every scrap of land his boots fell, in the name of what he fought for. Historically himself. At the moment, the Confederacy.

What did Magus mean to her? How was he to reciprocate? He remembers the titles chosen during his introduction to them. Mistress. That was more formal than sister? Befitting of her station? She had been kind to him. So sweet and protective. He wanted to do it right. So his attempt was made in kind.

Hevn’s waist bends in response to her curtsy, he flourishes an arm as he bows, “Darkness Divine.” He tried to compliment her. Her elegance in wielding shadow. The way it roils around her shape so fluidly at her command. She made it look so smooth. Hevn is a rough and brutish thing of power. She gave magic style, sass, and class. He could think of nothing greater than to hold her aloft to a deity.

He doesn’t rise from the bow. He kneels into it. The rose petals. They swirl around his form as he rakes his fingers through and let’s them sift through his fingers towards the ground beneath him. Will you serve me as well as you would her? He didn’t wait for the answer. He’d have been skeptical of either had he the patience to hear it.

Upon his left hand the gauntlet is worn. One of its bladed fingers points at her neck as he rises from the crouching position. “If you see fit to use your talisman, I will have to resort to the dark side of the force. Your blessings and enchantments, combined with our mutual lethality, make such a thing dangerous in regards to a duel.” He was referring to the talisman primed to launch his own weapons back at him. If she wanted to use it this would be different than he’d pictured, but interesting enough to follow through.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

He could actually be her Magus, the one man to reign her in when she is out of control or to fix her psyche when she is broken, one she worships, but he won’t be by his own volition. She came to terms with this fact, as he ever holds her at a distance. She prefers the misery of their dysfunction, to that of her ever elusive understanding of harmony. A harmonious life is that of a child’s, not a level any adult’s ever elevates towards.

Is he already mocking me? Is he also praying? Feigning it? She isn't certain considering the words he chose to address her, and then he knelt. Did Mom have another sick scenario which she intends to play out for Her own amusement? She obviously may, as [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"] immediately blurbed his warning against her utilization of her talisman. She suspected to which he referred, as he had not stated. How else would he suspect the purpose of the lustrous stone, lest the spirits betrayed her already?

So the deal starting out is to enter into this with a handicap? Dangerous? Just what spell does he have in mind to throw at me? she wondered. If it’s anything like he did to Alkor, she will surely twist his metal...

She blinked in astonishment, a record-breaker for just how soon it was inspired. “I am a Nightsister,” she said in case he had forgotten. “Isn’t defense the point of a duel?” Above all else he won’t be himself, as he always has before? Is he all about putting himself first again? Amulets and relics and many other crutches are her way of life. Those ways saved his butt on numerous occasions! She is not a Sith; at least to her better judgement.

He always perplexed her, and she suspects he revels in being granted such a power over another. Pomsty approaches her date? opponent? teacher? whatever else he fancies himself at the moment, which sometimes is as he describes himself as a son of something-something...and he is most of the time, in many ways. She reaches up to lightly tap his cheek, her customary greeting since their very first meeting. She untied her Talisman of Counterspell forged by her own hands to operate on her personal wavelength, and held it out to him. She wondered what else she prized about her ways he might prefer she shed? Everyday she wore her relics and stashed potions upon her being. Everything about her oozed of her magick. She felt completed by it all, yet there is always something more locked away within her psyche, or standing right in front of her eyes, both beyond her comprehension and her grasp. Elusiveness has this way of waning one’s interest to search for an attainable focus. She developed her Art and it remains her life.

Typically it is true that wanting something more and not finding satisfaction just interferes with direction. It is true for Pom, the strange sensation of the darkside of the Force being manifest by accident as it erupts from within her at times of duress, is pressing to evolve. It shall not cease until she finally harnesses it. Her interests outside of her on essence she would not find so inclusive. Why now exactly the warlock graced her with his invitation she likewise has no clue.

As a Nightsister and considering the history of her people, she gave her permission, “By all means, you be sure to be yourself. Use your force ways if you trust them superior.” He came to the Mandragora because he knew there to be a difference in the Arts.