forum Private with Serpentess

Started February 11, 2022 by @emilyevewrites group

tune

Farah side-stepped his paw and exhaled shakily. "Come on, Farah," she muttered to herself. "You can do this." She reached out and touched him gently, using her magic to slowly heal his wounds and restore more of his energy.

Mardicos flinched when she touched him, but he recognized healing magic, even in his sleep, and didn’t move. As her magic worked, he slowly stirred. He shifted slightly to allow her more room, then groggily lifted his head to look at her.

He stared for a long moment, fighting back his drowsiness. After a bit, he sniffed the air around her, memorizing her scent. He never intentionally hurt those that helped him, and he wanted to keep to that.

He then huffed at her, a sort of ‘thank you’, before lying his head back down. The pain was becoming easier to ignore, but it still took quite a bit of effort to avoid whining every five minutes.

Farah's scent was earthy, very similar to that of the forest around them, but she also smelled of parchment, of books, and of warm tea. She gasped slightly as he shifted around to give her more room. "Good," she murmured quietly with a small smile. "There we are. I'm not going to hurt you," she repeated cautiously. Fear continued to roll off of her in waves, but she was hiding it well. Farah Dowling was an expert at hiding her emotions. Still, she poured her magic into him, verging on draining herself too much as the magic wore on.

A scholar witch? Never heard of a scholarly one.

Mardicos grunted at her words, noticing the fear in her smell. It somewhat amused him, but it also bored him. Fear was too common a smell. He liked a challenge.

After a bit, Mardicos noticed how she seemed to be weakening. He growled at her, a warning not to strain herself. Sure, he was still hurt, but the wound was no longer mortal.

Farah winced, and she dropped down to a knee as exhaustion began to set in. Finally, she recognized she couldn't push herself any further, so she pulled her hand back and rose to her feet. She stepped back and looked at him, a stern expression on her face as her eyes studied him more intently now than they had before, but she didn't speak.

Mardicos watched her, satisfied that she was taking a break. He then started to stand, favoring his hind leg. He could feel it again, thankfully, but it was too tender to put much weight on it. His side throbbed, but it was a considerable improvement.

He settled back down, then looked at the woman, meeting her stern gaze with one of his own. It wasn’t hard to hold his ground, even in his current state, but he honestly held no hostility toward her. He then turned away, tapping a spot next to him for her to sit. After a few more moments of watching her, he started to groom, cleaning the blood from his dense fur.

Farah slowly complied, sinking to the ground he had designated for her. Tentatively, she reached out and ran her fingers through his fur gently. Though she didn't expel any more magic through the touch, she did hope that the calming aura that surrounded her would extend to him. After a few moments of silence between them, she spoke again in a quiet murmur. "You're quite magnificent."

Mardicos tensed a bit when she touched him, but slowly relaxed. It confused him a bit. Something about her was so soothing. He suspected magic, but he wasn’t sure. He had always been drawn to witches, despite his hatred for them. Maybe… no, best not to think about that. Best just to enjoy this woman’s company while he could.

He stopped grooming when she spoke and he lifted his head slightly. Had anyone ever called him that before? He snorted, as if dismissing her words, then returned to grooming. One other person had called him that. Just one. And thinking of her was painful.

Farah quickly picked up on many of his small movements and noises, especially how he seemed to brush her comment off like it was nothing. She pursed her lips, but she didn't say anything for the time being. Instead, she kept stroking his fur and pushing her calming aura towards him and humming softly, waiting for the Sun to come up.

Mardicos continued to groom, eventually cleaning off the blood. He then rested his head against the woman, closing his eyes and relaxing. It was nice to have some peaceful attention for once, and he found that he actually liked being petted.

After some time, dawn finally arrived. Mardicos awoke from a doze and stood, limping away. He didn’t like being around others when he morphed, and it didn’t help that his clothes were a good walk away. Before he disappeared into the trees, he looked back at the woman, and a part of him hoped she would stay there.

After the wolf rested his head on her, Farah nearly fell asleep on him. However, just as the dawn broke, the wolf rose to his feet, and Farah blinked herself out of her near-sleep haze. She stood quickly after him and watched him walk away. When he looked back at her, Farah felt her breath hitch. Did he want her to follow? She took a step toward him, tilting her head. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked softly.

Mardicos had noticed the woman dozing off against him, and outwardly didn’t react. Though, he actually enjoyed every moment. He had almost fallen asleep with her, except for his ever-present sense of the moon waking him.

His ears perked up to better hear her, just picking up what she had said, and Mardicos barked at her. This one was much quieter than the first, softer and kinder. He then waved his paw, trying to signal her to stay where she was.

Mardicos then turned away and walked off, disappearing into the trees. As the sun rose, the full moon’s influence started to wane, and the pain of his morph was already starting.

Farah bit her lip and remained where she stood. The wolf padded off out of sight, likely to change back into whoever he was in human form. She sighed, all alone again. However, she was alone in nature, which was different than simply being alone. Glancing around and – thankfully – seeing no one, she extended her palm out and channeled a bit of her magic to form a glowing orb that hovered above her skin. She smiled softly, the light from the orb illuminating her features.

Mardicos moved as fast as he could toward the crevice where he had hidden his clothes. However, he hadn’t gotten far before his fur started to recede and his bones started to snap.

As he morphed, he repeatedly howled and shrieked, the sounds soon becoming screams and curses. He then sprawled on the ground, panting and nearly passing out. His leg was heavily bruised, and hurt like hell. Though, his side burned, and he was sure he was bleeding again.

Stubbornly, Mardicos rolled over and stumbled to his feet. He held his side, which was indeed bleeding, and limped onward. Occasionally, a whine escaped him.

Farah jerked her head up and curled her fingers into a fist. The light orb disappeared instantly, and she enhanced her senses to detect if anyone was coming. All she heard was a flurry of curse words, and she arched her eyebrows. Her wolf must've transformed back into his human form. Still, she didn't move from her spot, creating a small flame in her palm now and letting it weave and dance between her fingers.

Mardicos finally reached an old tree with an uplifted root. He gingerly reached under, finding his clothes and weapons, then cautiously pulled on his pants and tucked his dagger in the belt. However, he hesitated on pulling on his shirt when he saw the gashes on his side, and the bloody mess it had already made. He could deal with bruises, but bear scratches were fucking tenacious.

“Well, at least, I’ve got something on. She’s fucking lucky I was even in the mood for clothes today. Otherwise, I might have just said fuck it and morphed in front of her,”he mumbled to himself as he limped back toward the oak, carrying his shirt and using his axe as a cane. His words were a lie, but it was enough to vent his frustrations regarding his wounds and modesty.

When he finally got back to the tree, he was in a daze. Though, he knew this feeling. It always happened every morning after a night of roaming as a wolf. Always. Fuck, he was tired. Had he even slept at all in the past few days?

To announce himself, Mardicos simply tossed his axe into the root of a nearby tree. The axe’s head buried itself deep, hitting the root dead center. He then tossed his shirt over next to the axe.

“I thank you for your help, though I think my morph just now fucked it up. I fucking hate bears. Goddamn, do I hate them. Anyway, my name is Mardicos,”he said, his voice deep and resonating, but also soft, mellifluous.

He sat down against the great oak, staring up into the trees absently. He had lost quite a bit of his social skills over the centuries, but it didn’t really matter to him. What mattered was that he would walk away from this tree fully healed. And he was nowhere near that if the blood coating his side had anything to say about it.

Farah dispersed her flame instantly and very nearly used a terrifyingly powerful burst of magic against the man when he startled her with his axe. However, if there was one thing Farah Dowling had mastered in her life, it was control. She held back her abilities and relaxed her defensive stance after hearing the man thank her.

She cleared her throat and watched him sit. "You're welcome," she remarked quietly. Her eyes studied him, and she flushed a bit at seeing his exposed chest. But her gaze quickly moved beyond that to the open wounds on his skin. She approached him slowly and knelt beside him. "You're still bleeding. Would you like me to help you?" she asked. Her lithe fingers were ready, and she was beginning to channel the magic, just waiting to release it.

Mardicos noticed he had startled her and snorted. It was somewhat amusing how he could sneak up on others without even actually trying. He then saw her stance, just before she relaxed. Whoever she was, she was a foreigner. That defensive posture was far different from what he knew, though he himself was a foreigner. Her posture might simply be one trained in this area, nothing more. Maybe.

Hearing her response, he glanced over at her. She seemed to have an awful lot of self-control. That was good. Though, he figured she’d be a bit embarrassed by his shirtless state. What woman wouldn’t be in this situation? Even with narrow shoulders that seemed just slightly out of place, like they should’ve been much wider, those same shoulders were solid with muscle. And his chest and abdomen were sleek and toned, built just as much for speed as for sheer power. What woman wouldn’t want to spend hours staring at that?

Her question brought Mardicos back to reality. He sighed and nodded, shifting his arm a bit so it wasn’t in the way.

“That would be appreciated. My leg is still fucked as well, but, at least I can actually feel the damned thing,”he replied.

His thoughts wandered off again, back to his appearance for whatever reason. Why did witches do this to him? Why did they always make him long for their company? Why couldn’t they just leave him to his fate, instead of influencing it?

Pushing past those questions, he wondered what she would think of his scars. There was a dark one on his waist, the lone scratch that had cursed him, but it was currently buried under blood. Then the pair of marks on his shoulders, which she probably wouldn’t see. He didn’t like thinking about those two. Then the many others marking his body, outlining his entire skeleton. None of those were from battle. None ever were.

Farah avoided looking at his toned chest as she grew nearer, not giving him the satisfaction. Her hands hovered over the wounds, preparing her magic to heal them. Then, slowly, she began to notice his other scares. one by one, they stuck out to her against the rest of his skin, and each one she saw caused a new shiver to shoot through her. She traced her fingers gently over his skin, and her eyes turned from brown to silver-blue as she channeled her magic.

"Who did this to you?" Farah asked softly. The words left her before she could stop them, and quickly, she flushed pink. "I'm sorry, that was out of line," she apologized quickly, desperate to avoid his gaze even more.

Mardicos saw how she avoided looking at him, and chuckled drowsily. It was a good effort, but he had never met a witch that could resist long.

He then noticed the shivers, and wondered what she was seeing. Was it his wound? It wouldn’t surprise him if it was a harsh sight. Bears scratches had a tendency to be ugly by default.

The moment she touched him, he flinched and tensed. He took a deep breath to steady himself, repeating in his head that she wasn’t there to hurt him. He slowly calmed. Fuck, he wasn’t used to be touched anymore, and his sleepiness wasn’t helping.

The moment he heard the question, his eyes closed and his breathing became shaky. He trembled a bit, then took a deep breath to steady himself. He blinked open his moist eyes, nodding at her apology.

“I… I would rather not think about that,”he said, his voice very quiet. He stared off into space, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to pour out from him.

"Sorry," she apologized again, expertly manipulating her magic to heal his wounds, subtly healing a few of his scars as well. Her magic was powerful enough for it, and she had the control to keep it contained. "I don't know why I said that."

She noticed immediately how tense he was, and she incorporated a bit of magic to relax him as well. She could also feel the massive wave of emotions he was holding back. He thinks so much, and yet he says so little…

(You want to know something that is both funny and really neat? I found an old note earlier today, and discovered that Midnight Wolves are actually based in one of my already existing worlds. So, I don’t actually have to worldbuild that much, I just need to figure out the ancient history of the world, and incorporate Mardicos’ story into it, lol)

Mardicos took another deep breath and sighed shakily.

“It’s alright. I do have many scars, and… they’re all caused by the same thing. They’re the only scars that seem to linger…”he trailed off, studying the sensations of her magic.

He knew she was healing his wound, but there was something else too. It was strange, like a timy nagging weight had been lifted from his entire being. He continued to study her magic, and noticed that his skin seemed looser, healthier near his wound. It finally hit him. She had healed some of his scars!

He glanced at her, and, for the first time, noticed the difference in her eye color. As he stared at her, he was so caught up in his surprise at her power, and his interest in her eyes, that he didn’t even notice the tension fading from his body. Even his mind settled down, though it still shocked him that she had been able to heal scars that had never faded.

“Thank you,”he said quietly, those two words loaded with meaning. He was grateful for her help, her company, her unusual kindness… and for the sheer power at her fingertips. With her magic, he could finally be rid of a tormenting reminder of the woman, the conniving witch, that had cursed him, then shattered his heart.

"Well, not anymore," Farah murmured, smirking a bit with subdued pride. The expression covered up the fear she was feeling as her magic was being used to the extent of what she knew was safe. What was controllable. If she pushed any further, she was terrified of losing her direct channel, and her magic would become terrifyingly erratic.

She inhaled steadily and continued to work at the same pace, making sure not to push her magic too far. Within a few moments, his wound was sealed, his scars were gone, and she'd placed a calming aura around him to keep him at peace for at least a few more minutes.

Her silver-blue eyes met his and turned back to their natural brown as the use of her magic died down. "You're welcome," she murmured back with a curt nod. "Now, would you mind telling me how you got those scars? Because they weren't exactly… shall I say… natural."

Mardicos snorted at her words, then noticed the smell of fear coming off of her. What was she afraid of? Was she still wary of him, or was it something else? He didn’t question her though, not wanting to spook her.

Mardicos sat up a bit once she was done, breathing a sigh of relief. He then noticed that all of his scars were gone… or, almost. The scratch on his waist, the mark of the cursed claw that had changed him, still lingered. It always would as long as he remained alive, but it had faded somewhat, thankfully.

He looked back at the woman, watching her eye color change. His own eyes lit with fascination. He had thought that only other lycanthropes had changing eyes like that, but… apparently not.

At her words, Mardicos hesitated. And the reminder of the nature of his scars made him think of his shoulders. Unconsciously, he reached back, as if to scratch near the top of his shoulderblade, and rubbed his fingers along there. That scar was also gone, and its companion with it.

He chuckled a moment, settling back against the tree. After a moment of soaking in the knowledge of his freedom, he steeled himself enough to give her some sort of explanation. He owed her that much at least.

“The memories are still quite painful, but, you’re right. They’re not natural at all. After I was cursed, I was kept in a dungeon. The wom… Shit… The witch that cursed me decided to study me. She and her court wizard… basically, tortured me. I… didn’t escape until a cataclysmic event fell upon the area,”he explained shakily, his voice breaking when he mentioned the witch.

The memories of his torture, the experiments, the agony, came rushing back, and a low whine, like that of his wolf form, escaped him without him realizing. The memories of her hurt worse than the memories of his own screams.

Farah's observant eyes took in his micromovements and expressions. She dually noted how he touched where there once were scars and that there was still a rather nasty-looking scar left that hadn't healed like the rest of them. She opened her mouth to ask him if he wanted her to heal it, but she thought better of it. It clearly hadn't come off like the rest of them, so what was one more attempt going to do? Most likely nothing.

But as he began to talk, the memories that flashed in his head played seamlessly in hers as well. She winced at the pain and the suffering and the… betrayal. Immediately when he mentioned the witch, she sensed feelings of old love and longing and desire, but at the same time, immense hurt.

"She betrayed you?" Farah asked quietly. "You were in love with her, and she betrayed you. I'm very sorry."