Ordinary. Anne's life had been so damn ordinary. A scullery maid/cook at the White Stag tavern. Her hands always red and cracked from the lye soap used to scrub the evidence away of other people's indulgences. Knife skills learned by the bushels of potatoes and carrots peeled and chopped. Relegated to all those chores behind the scenes, invisible as long as the bar was tidy with dinner served.
Heather tipped the scales in the other direction with her catching many of a man's eye while serving rounds of ale at the tavern. With a wink and a flirty smile, a playful slap would be delivered to hands that patted or pinched her full buxom curves. But in the end, it was Meg they came to hear every night. Her smokey voice crooning about a ranger that in each verse of the song defeated one more enemy more powerful than the last. Or as the hour grew later in the evening the adventures turned more personal with lovers sharing intimacies and then losing each other to fate. Anne would stand in the shadow of the bar after her shift to listen to the lives lived out in song that she desperately wanted. Her mousy appearance never garnered an invitation for a round or even any inappropriate offer. Unlike the other women, Anne was never noticed by those around her.
And so it was until Mr. Mestophellies called Anne from her sad corner one night. As dreams and envy swirled in her breast, a... man sporting a fine cloak with a gait that testified the smart looking walking stick with it's banded gold tip and molded head of a horned goat in his hand was more for show than necessity spoke her name.
Anne. The dark everlasting gaze of the man pierced her leaving Anne feeling fully exposed as she felt truly seen for the first time.
A life of notoriety, I offer you. Come. Don't dwadle. Dwadling, pleases me not. And with a double tap of his cane, he breezed toward the exit.
Who? What? Things like this did not happen to... don't dwadle. Anne put no more thought than that as she followed the possibility of a different life.
Now Rua twirled the small braid that accented her long firey locks. Head tilted emphasized an attractive jaw line as she tapped smooth ivory fingers against her ruby lips as the new warlock contemplated her arrival at the end of the world. Keeping her part of the bargain in civilization had proved more difficult than she had first imagined. Criminals that deserved death did exist but between guilds that seemed to protect the worst and the law that demanded procedures calling it justice, Rua had fallen behind on her quota. Thus, the transformation back to Anne began. Desperate, Rua had begged Mr. Mestophellies for a reprieve,
A deal is a deal, my dear. But I am merciful. You are restored this one time. Now Rua approached the Keep, both striking in form and compelling in manner as she hunts for souls to keep her transformed. Only the guilty, Rua promised herself...only the guilty.
Last edited April 27, 2021 4:49 pm