Quoted By:
<span class="mu-s">[Bluff 12 vs. DC of ???]</span>
"You're a bit <span class="mu-i">late</span> for that!" You tell the witch a lie that you wish were true. In the same breath, you shove the blade of your imagined broadsword through Anahita's terrifyingly beautiful face. It slips through her flesh like a hand parting mist, and like mist her body disperses when your thrust becomes a cut that stirs the still air of the void. Your eyes searching the darkness for any trace of her, you snarl that, "I gave my love my maidenhood the night he became a man. You'll need to look elsewhere if you want someone <span class="mu-i">untouched</span>."
"Oh, silly Louise..." the witch's disembodied voice is sickeningly sweet as it echoes in the dark. Like a mockery of every girl who's ever confessed their love. "Even if I believed that... if I had to choose between a maiden or the <span class="mu-i">Maid of Charlemonte</span>, I'd always choose you~! "
Her laughter echoes through the void, from every direction all at once in a dizzying cacophony that your ears cannot rightly follow. As it fade, her voice comes back with a sharp edge in its tone, "Besides which..."
A wind howls in the darkness, and you can feel the faintest bit of motion in the air. Without thinking, without a word, you jerk towards it and cut at the shadows with the glimmering sword born of your imagination. As you take your swing, the blade disintegrates into a vast flutter of coal black butterflies whose ten-thousand wings flutter about you in a horrific and beautiful cacophony.
Though to call their wings "coal black" understates just how dark the fluttering wings were. The color of their wings exceeded the dark of night by a thousand fold, and stood so <span class="mu-i">vividly</span> against the darkness of void that you could see them clear as day against the infinite, lightless expanse. Rather than black, it might have been to say that they were the color of a nothingness that stood beyond nothingness, an unholy shade that was dark and beautiful and <span class="mu-i">terrible</span> as the last light of day.
You want to hate it, but you cannot. The only rational explanation you can think of is that the Dark One could not have created such a sight, that this servant must have <span class="mu-i">stolen</span> it.
As you stand disarmed and entranced by the flutter of butterflies, something warm and wet licks against your cheek. The sudden sensation makes you start so suddenly that you lose your balance, tripping over <span class="mu-i">something</span> in the dark and falling onto your rump. You know not what expression crosses your face when you look up and saw Anahita lying upon a cushion of air. With her breasts squishing against an unseen cushion, her feet lazily kicking at nothing, and her hands cupping her cheeks, in every part she looked a blushing maiden feasting on gossip with her friends... except for the expression on her face.
