Sun and Moon

July 08, 2018:

Amora the Enchatress and Darkedge meet over a few drinks.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

The bar is quiet, areas dimly lit as usual. One of the shadows in the corner deepens for a heartbeat before a silver haired elf steps from it. Hood up, face shadowed, he makes his way toward the bar. In teh depths of the shadow of his hood, silver eyes gleam out; his gaze sweeping the area. He'd sense as well, but he has long since learned that this bar always feels of magic.
*
The Enchantress was having a rather boring and dull time as of late. Sure there was Loki to harass every now and then for faint amusement, but Loki was hardly what one would consider.. reliable for anything other than the fact he was a Trickster and would ultimately betray someone somehow. Which frankly, grew boring in and of itself. So the blonde goddess of passion, of love and beauty and sheer Asgardian curves was at the bar.
Her beauty was not diminished at all by the lack of magical ensnarement, her merits in and of themselves apparently as she leaned against the bar sipping a fruity looking mixture that bubbled and misted over the rim. Some poor soul had purchased it for her, and had since become ignored as any piece of furniture around.
The blonde reclined, tilting her head back as she subtly peered around her under thick eyelashes. Her curvy figure embraced by impossibly thin and iridescent fabric that formed a heart shaped dress with thigh high slits. Golden bracelets and earrings dripped from her like spun sunlight. Her green eyed gaze catching sight of the darker silvery elf that entered and approached the bar.
A red lipsticked smile pulled at her lips as she peered over her drink. "Why hello."
*
At the bar, the elf lifted his chin just enough for the bar tender to spot his gaze. A moment, a flicker of telepathy, and the bar tender was off to make the elf a warm tea.
The sound of that voice draws a silvery elfin gaze.
To say she was lovely to look at, given how human she appeared, was a mild understatement. The blonde was lovely. As lovely as a Queen he serves, and just as enchanting. A brow quirks as he lets himself sense the magics in the area, seeking to sample whatever mystical perfume may come from the woman.
And then in silence, the elf nods once. It's almost like a bow, almost, in that it shows deference to her. Perhaps because he knows she has the makings of a Queen. Or perhaps because he can sinec she is a goddess. Or perhaps simply because in this land of Mortal Humas, the fae-elf has finally seen a thing of a beauty he is more accustomed to.
And then he checks if she can hear as the elves he is used to can her, if her mind can catch a thought tossed into the air between them: « Darkness, Golden Lady. »
If she can, the feel of his mind is soft and smooth as silk, yet cold and as unyielding as diamond.
*
Amora sipped at her drink with delicately manicured nails scraping against the condensation that curled over it. That same heated smile remained on her lips as she seemed to turn the full burnt of her attention on the elf before her as he nodded to her. Amusement was thick in the air, along with the hot magic of promise, desire intermixed with wild and untamed, natural Asgardian magic that made up Amora's sense of self.
She was a summer day, humid and breathless. Gold and green.
The opposite to his cool, sliver and darkness.
All-speak, as some would say was magic, others a form of telepathy. Either way, Amora had mastered the subtleties of communication in almost all ways. Unlike some in Asgard, Amora had ventured well beyond their borders in search of magic and amusement.. The elf's cool, thoughts met her own of glittery heat. She didn't try to test his, seeming oddly respectful in that regard. At least.. here she was.
But she didn't respond in the same, even if amusement and humor played along the edges of his mind, like a feather teased along the recesses with trailing laughter. "So strange to find an elf out in the other realms. What a pleasant surprise."
*
THere are cultures that would see this meeting as one of celestial objects: She the sun, he the moon.
« I attempt to refrain from over meddling. » replies the elf, mind sensing that caress and for the moment refusing to act on it. Instead, he continues to 'sample' the perfume of her aura, the magical ambiance that fills the space about her person, while the warm tea is set down in front of him. He turns then, from the Golden Sun, the Warmth of Summer, and reaches out with his slender, gloved, four-fingered hand to collect the simple clay cup.
« It is, likewise, rare to meet one such as yourself. » he notes smoothly, his mental touch as a winter's breeze.

*
The Enchantress rolled her shoulders back, fluttering her eyelashes as she sipped at her drink. Her elbow leaning against the bar top as she considered the elf without a hint of bashfulness about her open stare. Rather, her lips quirked and she grinned wickedly. "Define overly meddle, darling.." She drawled, swirling the cherry by the stem around the contents of her drink. More smoke billowing out of the glass.
Of course as he took his tea and settled back to comment on her kind being rather rare, she chuckled. Her voice low and smooth.
"I am the most beautiful woman in all the realms, I am rare, quite simply because I am the only one like me. There is only one Enchantress of Asgard." She winked at him, crossing her legs and letting the liquious fabric spill over her legs, exposing sun kissed flesh up to her thighs.
*
« Must I? » Darkedge quips, faintly ammused. Where she smirks and grins wickedly, fluttering her lashes and sitting in all her radiance, he remains as cool as night, unphased by her briallance. He is neither human nor mortal. And yet, he is not merely just turning away. After all, she is a beauty of the likes he has missed on this world of humans.
« Enchantress. I see you. » he replies, the tone polite and coy and amused and intrigued. He sips his tea, silver eyes flicking down to note teh expanse of flesh before coming back up to her face. There is no lust, as a mortal feels, within the elf. When time is a novel concept and starts can be watched from birth to death, passions tend to wind slower.
*
The golden haired goddess reclined, the bar-seat beneath her not so much as squeaking at the movement, as if it couldn't dare to do something so mundane in the presence of the radiant goddess. "Well, I find meddling so very amusing. And you said that you don't over meddle.. which implies some level of meddling my dear." She replied, arching a thin eyebrow upwards, as she sipped at her drink, swirling the contents around the glass as she tilted it this way or that.
The lack of immediate lust rising in him of course, only made Amora more interested in trying to get the reaction out of the elf. One way or another. Of course, given that he acknowledged her appropriately.. well, that just smoothed over her ruffled feathers enough to keep trying.
A twitch of her lips followed his look, even as she leaned forward carefully. "Do you? Do you truly? Many have eyes and claim to see, and yet are blinder than those incapable of seeing.."
*
« Humans are often woefully unaware of the power some of the items they possess truely are, and less aware that these items actually belong to the Fae. I meddle to retrieve these… and where and when I see fit. So yes. I do meddle.. now and then. » Tea is sipped again, ever so lightly, eyes watching Amora swirl her drink, watching her watching him. His lips pull into a faint smirk.
« You are alluring, my lady Enchantress. No doubt, you are capable of making even the blind see exactly what you wish them to see. It is not unlike some of the Fae Queens I know. So.. for the moment, I see you. Should you wish to change that.. I suppose… i can't stop you. » Again that gentle amusement, the warmth without true passion or lust.
*
Amusement seemed to form with equal measure on both sides, both dark and light. Gold and silver. Night and day. They were opposites, but still, the elf had managed something few had in centuries: interested the Enchantress of Asgard. Enough at least, that she'd make a point to pester him in the future. She shifted again, taking a long sip of her drink as she listened to his tale of how and why he interacted with Midgard and the mortals therein.
"Does not iron poison your kind?" She drawled, tilting her head, spilling golden locks and curls over her shoulders.
Of course, that topic was dropped as soon as he admitted that she was alluring. The woman tilted her shoulders back, a curve of her lips following upwards.
The elf had managed to score more points in her book than most Asgardians. Many of whom fell weeping at her feet, promising to give up all titles, land, or goods to be at her side.. (and be turned into a tree for that..)
The elf at least was managing himself well, and as a result, Amora was simply tickled. There was nothing to break, no ego to run against her own, but open acknowledgement mollified the lack of open lust or desire.
"Some mortal or other called me a fairy Queen once.. wrote a whole play about it.. I forget.. Hmm." She wiggled her fingers in a dismissive way at her own thought. "Not that he knew what he was speaking of."
*
Silver eyes narrow into flecks of metal in the low light of hte bar. The amused half smirk hints, flirts, at ebing something darker.
« What is that knowledge to you? » asks the elf, wary and distrustful of those knowing ways to hurt him. And yet, even with the distrust riding to the fore, he has yet to recoil. Beauty, after all, pulls at the senses. The dark distrust bubbles over the feel of amusing at any mortal mistaking this luscious thing before him for the cool sleekness of a Fae Queen, and yet, in a way, Darkedge could see how human could make such a mistake.
*
Amora reached up with one hand to tug locks of gold back and over her shoulder, stretching slightly as she rolled her shoulders back again and heaved a great sigh. Her other hand still curled around the neck of her drink's glass. Green eyes flitted over him again, and another faint curve of a smile tugged at her lips and vanished. "It is simply knowledge. Knowledge gained years ago." She exhaled a breath, picking up her drink again.
It never seemed to lessen in its contents.
Amora had had lovers from nearly all the nine realms at one point or another, stolen magic and secrets all over to her own benefit. She leaned forward, reaching out a manicured finger toward him, green tipped and perfectly sculpted. "I know plenty of other things too, darling."
*
Darkedge inclines his chin, letting a feeling of 'uh-huh' drift wordlessly from his mind to hers. Unlike her glass, his empties and with a final sip the drink is done. Empty vessel discarded to the countertop. His eyes settle on that fingertip a moment, before focusing on Amora's face.
« As do I, my lady. Are we to play a game of who knows more? I suspect there would be some things you would win. » Back is the coy, the smirk, the amusement, and still without a hint of lust filtering through. The elf, though, is wary, ready to move if that hand becomes too threatening.
*
Amora leaned back in her chair, shrugging as she leaned back, her finger retreating as she set her drink aside to run her fingers through her hair. She flashed a flutter of eyelashes as she watched him from her perch on the bar-stool. Her lips twitched faintly as the flirtatious, coy tones returned to their conversation. Though curiosity burned in those emerald green eyes. She tossed her hair back and picked up her glass once more.
"I'd say some of life's more enjoyable pass-times, would be where my skill shines.." She drawled.
*
That's what he thought. Amusement drifts by, eyes giving a long slow blink as her drawled response. He turns from the bar then, silent as shadow, to face Amora fully. He was glad she withdrew her touch, for he is already far closer to her physically than he likes to be to most anyone.
« Issuing death unseen, I suppose, would be mine. » is the thought offered to the Goddess. Unlike all his other thoughts thus far, this one has a sense of something secret between them. Like a whisper between lovers, breath playing across an ear as lips trail toward the lips once more. How odd is it to feel such sensuality without lust clouding it's preciseness?
*
Amora shrugged, and grinned as she slid off the bar stool, leaving her drink behind as she stretched her hands over her head, heels clicking as she shifted her weight back. "There are few that brag of such skills. Even fewer still that have them. I believe you, though, my dear. One so dark and calm. So sculpted out of silver." She murmured, her voice dipping low as she lowered her arms and leaned over the bar to try to snatch at the empty cup he'd left behind.
"You didn't try to read your tea leaves… tsk tsk."
*
« Alas. Not among my abilities. » notes the elf, humor teasing at the edge of the thought. His eyes lingered over the sight of her stretching, as one who has never before seen a sunrise lingers over the sight. Silently, he plucks one of his gemstone blanks from a pouch at his hip, and rolls it over in his mind to press it into the shape of a simple thin bracelet. But deceive in its simplicity. The whole of the bracelet is make of pure clear white diamond, glittering softly, and tossing rainbows about in a declaration of its magically crafted purity.
« For your belief in me. » is the explanation given as the bracelet is pressed to the bar top in front of Amora. « It is dull in comparison when you wear it. »
*
Amora leaned over the empty cup, making a show of peering this way and that down into it, as if truly searching for something. After a long moment she set the cup down, smiling at him as she leaned against the bar proper. "I have a great many ways to peer into the future, or futures as it were.." Her lips twitched, "Tea leaves are notoriously drawn to ill omens and dark tidings.." She laughed softly, pushing off the bar to eye his magic workings before her.
A golden eyebrow looped upwards, and she leaned forward to trace a manicured finger tip against it. A quick once over with her magical sense. But little else. She was vain enough to expect it from males of all sorts. And so under her touch it vanished to the massive dimensional pocket that was her closet. Filled with untold priceless artifacts magical or otherwise.
"How kind." She drawled, and winked, blowing him a kiss before she poofed into a shimmer of light and glitter.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License