jukeboxemcsa: “You don’t think it’s…too much?” Majestra, Dark…

jukeboxemcsa:

“You don’t think it’s…too much?” Majestra, Dark Queen of the Under-Realms and Ruler of Souls, asked with a tentative smile on her face. “Only, I mean…I feel a little self-conscious. I mean, the raven-dark hair or the black leather or the blood-red lips or the spinning spirals in my eyes that draw you helplessly into the bottomless depths of my will, sure. But when you pile them on top of each other like this, it really feels like I’m trying too hard, you know?”

Kragthor, Barbarian of the Northern Wastes, shook his head reassuringly. “No, no, not at all!” he said. “I can’t speak for every hero, of course, but I know I appreciate the effort. I fought all this way through your hordes of faceless minions, I evaded your gauntlet of deadly deathtraps, I slew your spider guardian…I’m not saying I wouldn’t even try to nobly resist your overwhelming power with every fiber of my being if you were wearing sweatpants, but it’s sweet to make the extra effort like this for me. Heroes notice things like that.”

Majestra blushed just a little. “You do? That’s so nice to hear! So many champions of light just charge right in and won’t even look at me, let alone tell me they appreciate my efforts at tempting them into eternal darkness. They all say that they have to look at me through their mirrored shield, lest I consume their will like the delectable morsel it is, but it really gives you a complex after a while, you know?”

“Oh, I get it,” Kragthor said, sitting down on the temple steps with his sword resting next to him. “So many times I get that whole ‘I’d try to seduce you, but I know the noble Kragthor has too much steel in his will to be swayed by my wiles’ speech. I mean, if you’re not feeling it, just say so, okay? I may be a barbarian, but no means no. I’ll respect your consent. I don’t need an ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech.”

“Oh, I would totally sway you with my wiles!” Majestra blurted out. “I mean, um, if you’d…” She gulped a little. “If you’d want that. To struggle against my sinister magics that threaten to bind you into my thrall, that is. I mean, if you don’t, it’s totally fine, we can just duel to the death and all, but…” She trailed off into silence, her face beet-red. The worst part about having alabaster-pale skin is that it showed every blush.

Then she noticed Kragthor was blushing too. “I’d, um…I’d like that a lot, actually. But can we maybe just go out for coffee this time, and I’ll resist your soul-draining gaze with all my heroic will the next time around! I don’t want to rush things, is all. I really want to get to know you as a person, not just a source of corruption and endless pleasure.”

Majestra’s smile widened into a grin. “I tell you what,” she said. “Let’s clean up the mess from the spider guardian, and go get some coffee…and we’ll just see where things go from there. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t beg me to surrender your mind and body to my twisted temptations, you know? Not if we’re both feeling it.”

“Deal,” Kragthor said. “But maybe we can get a few of the surviving minions to help? That ichor gets everywhere.”

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