Mozenrath raised an eyebrow at Briar Rose. He was leaning back against one of the many trees in the wood while she picked berries or whatever it was that she was doing. “No?” He felt vaguely insulted.
With a gesture, he raised a small fallen tree branch off the ground and lazily spun it in the air. “I could make you. If I wanted.” But he didn’t. Not really. The peasant girl was a not-unpleasant distraction. He seldom interacted with anyone who didn’t know who he was (or rather, who his mistress was.) And he was reluctant to give up the opportunity.
He altered the movement of his fingers. The branch obediently changed course to give Rose a slight shove. Not even strong enough to knock her off-balance. And then fell at her feet.
@fairyraised
Mozenrath had only been with Destane a year when Maleficent had come to see his master. She’d exuded power and darkness. He’d been so entranced he became her shadow as she’d moved about the Citadel. (At least as much as he could without making Destane suspicious.) But he was as surprised as anyone when she demanded that he and Xerxes be given to her.
Destane had been reluctant to part with both his apprentice and familiar. But even he couldn’t refuse Maleficent. And going from his apprentice to hers had been an upgrade in every sense of the word. Not only was Maleficent more powerful, but though she was mercurial and cruel as a matter of course, she was practical enough not to damage tools that might prove useful, and rewarded competence.
Ten years had passed since then and he was certain he was at least twice the sorcerer he would have been if he’d been left to Destane’s tender mercies. He stood at the right hand of Maleficent’s throne and watched her berate her minions for their stupidity.
Only when they fled from her wrath did his mistress allow herself to sink into her throne. “Oh, they're hopeless. A disgrace to the forces of evil.”
She waved Mozenrath and Xerxes to approach and spoke to them, as well as her raven Diablo. “You three are my last hope. My pet, circle far and wide. Mozenrath, you and Xerxes venture forth on the ground. See what you can find…” She instructed, “Search for a maid of seventeen years. With hair of sunshine gold and lips red as the rose. Go. And do not fail me.”
Mozenrath bowed, “We won’t, Your Excellency. We will find the girl and see your curse fulfilled.”…
Some weeks later he was much less confident. He played at being a young trader from far off lands and casually asked all around about the stories surrounding the princess’s disappearance. But everyone seemed as mystified as Maleficent herself was.
He ventured into the words to strategize with Xerxes away from prying eyes. “This is going to be harder than we thought.” The eel made sympathetic noises. “Do you think the princess could already be dead? Some illness or accident…”
The sound of a distant singing voice broke his train of thought. “What is that? It’s no bird but it doesn’t sound quite human either.” He shared a look with Xerxes and they walked deeper into the woods to find the source.
Said source turned out to be a peasant girl about his own age. “Oh. You’re what was singing.” He’d hoped it might have been some fairy or creature that could have proved useful. Instead it was just an ordinary mortal.
Xerxes seemed to be of a different opinion. “Girl sing good!” He flew over and swirled around her head and took a deep sniff. “Girl smell good!”
“Get back here Xerxes.” The eel obeyed, chastened, and Mozenrath rolled his eyes. “Sorry. He’s never learned manners. Or subtlety.” But the words had no real bite and he scratched his head with something like affection.
Mozenrath didn’t bother hiding his eye-roll from the captive princess. “And your point would be?” He didn’t look at her as he consulted with his books and checked his tools and ingredients.
“Relax, Your Highness. I’m actually not all that interested in you. To be frank, you’re not even worth killing. No-what I’m after is the remnants of the curse the Dark Fairy left inside you.” He lazily leaned back against his work table and crossed his arms.
“Maleficent is dead and the collapse of the Forbidden Mountain destroyed almost everything useful that could tell me how she worked her magic. You are the key to my understanding her power and taking it for my own.” That much raw ability was almost unthinkable. If he had it, conquering the Seven Deserts would be a breeze.
He briefly gave Aurora his attention again. “Behave, and you can go home to your parents and Prince What’s-His-Name before you know it.” He fixed her with a cold stare, “Defy me and well...you won’t be so lucky.”
@fairyraised
"I thought this place was abandoned."
Mozenrath had been more than interested when word reached him the so-called Mistress of all Evil had died. Surely there would be all kinds of relics and recordings of ancient magic left behind at the Forbidden Mountain. The heroic little prince who’d ended her doubtless wouldn’t have had any idea what to do with it. It would have been such a shame for such treasures to be left to gather dust.
So here he was, thousands of miles from the familiar desert, combing through the ruins of her domain. At least until an unfamiliar voice broke through his concentration.
He stood to his full height and stared down the other intruder. “Oh it is. I’m merely stopping by. But this is no place for little girls,” he added with scoff. “Better run along home.”
"Don't Touch It" (Random ask for Jack Sparrow. PS: Aurora is talking about the sliver scar that is on her right middle finger. It still has Maleficent's dark magic in it and because of that the scar will start bleeding at random times)
@fairyraised
“ M’sorry, love .. just curious is all, “ he hopes his apology is swift enough and genuine enough, though feels the expression upon his face conjures his apologetic nature all too well at times, so there is no doubt in his mind she understands his words are genuine. Jack retracts his hand away from her own, as well as the intent gaze that had been fixed upon said scar mere moments before, so he can instead settle on her own features to strike up a conversation. Perhaps, though he is unable to inspect the wound with touch, she may allow him to speak of it freely and ask any questions he may have. He isn’t too aware of the ordeals she has been through himself, having only come to understand a select few things about her in the short time they had known one another, so he pops a few questions her way, brief and mild, so as to not offend. “ Do you mind my asking .. how you received a mark so ghastly on such delicate skin? “ his eyes are warm, their chocolate brown seemingly melting into a comfortable stare, nothing too striking or prolonged.
//You ever have one of those moments where you reblog an RP meme, not really expecting it to get any attention, but then you instantly get a response and you haven't even got an idea of what yet to make for them, so you give yourself time to think it over, but not too much time because you feel like you're under an unknown time limit, and that you're under some kind of pressure to force yourself to be motivated to actually get the request for them?
If I may be honest, this was one of those moments.
Send “Woo Me” and My Muse will attempt to flatter and fluster Your Muse with their words only
"Ah, Aurora, my lovely Aurora, where do I begin with you? Your luscious golden hair that so easily ensnares my fingers whenever we kiss? Or your equally luscious lips so crimson and tempting that they fill my head only with thoughts of you? My beauty, the fairies did indeed bless you with 'beauty rare' and you've demonstrated it to me every day ever since I saw you," rhapsodized Edgar, ending in a sigh.
