#warlockproblems

{Safrona’s subtley annoys me when I want to actually dress her up as a warlock. She takes me right back to the transmog mummies and makes me change her into something more inconspicuous. She does not like looking like a Warlock, but Warlocks have some of the most amazing sets in the game, and I have a lot of them for her that’d I like to show off, but her Warlock pride is levels beneath mine.

It’s a problem. I have to get her drunk often to even have her consider actually looking like the capable Harvester she is.}

“So. Cut yourself from the Legion. New life.” Elernia lounged on the bed of her Mistress’ rented room at the Ledgermaine. “On to bigger,  better things.”

Safrona sighed,  busying herself with clipping ingrown hairs within Wraafenn’s hide – the Felhound’s tentacles snapped at her on occasion,  irritated. Another soul shard was fed over,  trying to keep her Fel Beast distracted. “Yes….”

The sucubus rolled over on her stomach,  the grin audible in her question. “Except for us?”

“Of course,  not you, “ the Warlock sighed again irritably. “I know better than to try to cut loose what I have made mine.”

“Ooh,” the succubus purred,  “I -almost- feel loved.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” the Warlock spoke tiredly,  dismissing the irritated,  hungry Felhound. “I keep you because I must. I won’t have you plaguing some other young “warlock” that has no idea what they’ve just summoned.” Safrona seated herself at the small vanity mirror in the room,  staring uncertainly at her reflection,  gradually trying to make herself more comfortable. The familiar emerald scarab clip and sculpted hairpin was there,  ready to be placed in the morning. “I serve a higher calling now.  And so do you.” She allowed herself a small smile,  watching the way it formed at her reflection. The shadow of leathery wings folded halfway just behind her as the succubus neared,  scoffing softly.

“You keep telling yourself that,  sweetness.“ Elernia chuckled,  and the sound was not velvet and poison,  but sweet and frighteningly natural. “The truth is you will never be satisfied in what you serve. And you will always, be alone.”

The Warlock bristled, but remained outwardly calm, words gritted behind her teeth. “Don’t assume anything about me,  El–”

“Wrong.  I do not assume. I -know- you.  Everything about you…I am yours, and you mine.“

“You’re being ridiculous again… “

Yet when her eyes found the succubus’ reflection,  it was not a demon,  but a deathly pale,  handsome face,  lantern-like eyes behind stately spectacles. He smiled patiently at her,  working the brush down her wine-stained locks. An illusion of caring hands that moved on from her, a betrothal broken. “And I -know-…none will stay longer than they feel obligated to,  ‘beloved’.” His voice was brutally gentle, touching on a memory in her that was sapped of feeling, numb. The irritating reminder that nothing could be as it was.

“Stop it,” she snapped, annoyed with the succubi’s game of faces,  but Elernia was only beginning with her point. Next she chose a face closer to home to imitate, hair growing as red and full as the hearth of a comforting flame. With feminine hands and a sisterly touch she began to weave the Warlock’s hair into it’s usual braid. “They may care for a while,  but they are mortal souls, like you.  Flawed. And their devotion to you will always be rivaled by another.  They will forget to care,  to be by your side when you most need them.” So unlike her Sister Witch,  to speak such ugliness,  but the glamoured demon’s words worked a seed of her ugly truth there in her haunted heart. The touch in her hair,  it was all the care or comfort she had been given by another hand in so long,  and a demon was who provided. Her ‘Sister Witch’ let go of the long braid,  and for a moment Safrona forgot herself,  missing the attention.

When the demon returned,  it was with her red velvet cloak and the guise of one who’s boyish smile made an ache renew in her heart. “Or they’ll run when they see past your pretty face and see what kinda mess you really are.” Strong,  calloused hands helped mantle the cloak over her shoulders,  reaching around lovingly to fasten the silver cloak clasp at the front,  which her Watcher had gifted her. He brushed the remaining words against her ear with a kiss. “They get tired of Whiskey real quick when they figure out it’s no good for them,  huh? Heh… “

“Stop,  please.. “ the Warlock whispered then with watery tones, forcing her gaze to the vanity mirror before them. Blessedly the demon’s appearance changed, a relief that only lasted a half-second before another face she loved was copied. Crimson eyes stared next to her,  before turning to continue to brush lips against her ear with an intimate whisper.

“Y’already know it’s useless t’let y’self believe anyone will last. They’ll use you an’ y’love f’r all that it’s gonna be worth,  an’ give nothin’ back. An’ when ya standin’ at the abyss alone in the end afta y’fail each otha…” Smiling at the single tear that spilled down Safrona’s cheek, the demon reverted to her natural state and kissed her red lips to the wet stream of sorrow. It was delicious, her mistress’ sorrow, the break in her composure. The -breaking-.

“Your demons will be all you have. As it’s only,  ever been. And it will be grand to watch you fall again,  my Anna,  and -give- your soul to what you only ever belonged. And you know why,  don’t you?  We will be there in the end…as we were always in the beginning. Ready to swallow you whole, make you ours. You know what they call that? -That- is devotion, sweetness. And you’ll never find it anywhere else.”

{I moved away from green, as much as Saf doesn’t like it. I lovvve this dress. It even got the a-ok from @pinxiedust!