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'He is probably capable of fucking me to death.'
These were the thoughts in her head while she was piercing the Ascian named Emet-Selch with a look he could most likely decipher. But, she didn't care. Since they'd arrived in Rak'tika, he introduced himself and pointed out that he was going to be staying with them all the time, as if he was their comrade.
She understood pretty clearly why he needed this to happen: he had the game in his mind which led to manipulation of some sort. Unlike the other two Ascians, this individual liked playing with his enemies, acting like he was a bored gambler who didn't have a worthy opponent for years. For eons, in his case. But, while Elidibus, too, preferred to act from the shadows and avoid the close distance conflict, Emet-Selch wasn't afraid of showing his face, or at least wear a mask that looked more personal. Solus zos Galvus' body was sufficient. He chose the young Emperor mostly because it was the last vessel that an Ascian used, and also he had that… room at his disposal with the clones which Varis had provided.
She looked at him directly whenever he appeared, and frowned. However, he was largely unaffected by her attention, only returning her an amused and sly gaze. His pale golden eyes were empty and meaningful at the same time, and for some reason she was assured that they belonged truly to him. Not to his vessel.
Emet-Selch was unmistakably confident that he was indeed handsome and powerful enough equally with his body and mind.
It felt much like she had been staring in the mirror. It annoyed her, the statement of a fact that an Ascian, of all people, was so relatable to her. As a result, she chose to ignore him for a while, when he wasn't yapping for her personal attention. And he did so upsettingly often.
"What does the Warrior of Light have to say about this?"
And then - darting eyes towards her, lips curled in a smirk, intonation slightly changed to the mocking disdain.
Of course, she grew tired of his shite pretty fast.
So, this evening, after the rescue of Y'shtola and all their struggling to put an end to that one stubborn Lightwarden, she was looking at Emet-Selch in Qitana Ravel and thinking, 'This man could totally fuck me straight to my brink.'
It was strange that this thought appeared in her mind in the first place. She didn't even consider Emet-Selch as a "man" before, only as the creature of Darkness whom she was supposed to overthrow in future. A black fox with the owl's eyes, with the face of a former ruler and the voice of a trickster, he was strangely charming and could take over any woman among those sundered beings he scorned.
She wasn't just any woman. She was the Warrior. Contrary to him, she was dressed in a full suit of white armor with a bright blue sword on her hip, and a shield on her back. Even her hair was silver, matching her outfit. And she wasn't so stupid as to let her guard down. But still…
She didn't really like the concept of the world, coloured roughly in white patterns against dark. Throughout her life as a Warrior of Light, she saw time and time again that the world was grey. Darkish in places, maybe, and somewhere - light - but mostly grey. Ascians always were a phenomenon that nobody could understand, neither their motives, nor their nature. Emet-Selch was the first of them to actually act smart and with reason, not solely out of hatred and anger.
Tired of his charade, she chose the moment when the others left them alone, and closed the distance between them faster than should be considered polite, visibly filled with determination.
His reaction was too sluggish for someone of his capabilities. Either he didn't expect this from her, or just didn't quite recover from his earlier nap, but he didn't try to stop her when she roughly grabbed his fluffy collar and pushed him back against the tree.
"Stop it," she said quietly, but with a clear warning, "Stop whatever you have in mind. It won't work, because I won't allow it."
The expression of surprise on his face changed ever so slightly, and he grinned gladly, as if she didn't just threaten him but told him the most marvelous news.
"Oh-oh-ho, impressive! Aren't you afraid of what I can do to you with a little snap?"
She grimaced, showing him the most disdainful face she could make.
"So why are you waiting instead of doing it, then?"
Her grip hardened, and he winced, tilting his chin up so he could gaze at her downwards. His eyes were burning with arrogance, and the indignity and annoyance in her chest only rose higher.
The Ascian fell silent, though. Probably he saw that this banter wasn't worth it.
She exhaled through her clenched teeth. Patience, patience…
"Will you stop hanging around us?"
"No."
He was smiling again, taking her for a fool and shamelessly laughing at her without a word. She hardly could hold herself back from punching him in the face right now. But even if she'd do it, it wouldn't change anything.
"What am I to do with you?" she sighed. His grin widened.
"Truly. Whatever will you have of me?"
It sent shock waves through her body. She remembered her own earlier thoughts. Whatever was he implying?..
Emet-Selch slowly lifted his hands and placed them on her armored waist while still keeping eye contact between them. And then, he pulled, pressing her against him, breaking her confidently built barricade. She huffed in surprise and sudden fear, holding onto the trunk on the sides of his shoulders. She avoided touching him instinctively. Despite the fact that her body was already in his… embrace?
The Ascian lowered his head a little, to the level at which his lips lingered near to her ear and whispered: "You want me to abandon my plans? You dare to threaten me with your humble persona? You're kidding, right? Even the sound of you claiming that you are posing danger to me is ludicrous." The shiver ran down her spine again, she needed to rip herself away from him immediately. This creature, this man had too much influence on her. Her mirror, her own narcissism, her confidence in that she could control the entire world around her. Emet-Selch looked dauntless even though he clearly wasn't - she had already killed three Ascians.
Recollecting her thoughts, she was wondering what kind of thing she could say to escape this confrontation as winner. While he clearly caught her mentally, she still was capable of releasing herself physically with enough force. However, if she'd do only that, it would mean that all of her approaching was for naught.
She reached the conclusion, and pressed into him tightly in return, probably scratching his skin through the fabric with the edges of her shiny armor.
"I was thinking… what is it like to be taken to bed by an Ascian?"
It wasn't a lie. Emet-Selch would sense if it was a lie, and it wasn't.
She heard him chuckle, and his palm slid along her metal-covered back. Of course, she felt it only as a hint of touch, and it didn't affect her. Not as much as his words did.
"Hm-m, come to think of it… If you would be taken whole, including your soul and body, it could probably be the best experience in your life, but…" he tsk-ed, "You likely wouldn't survive that."
"So, I'd be fucked to death."
These words slipped uncontrollably. His arm on her back stopped, and she didn't even need to see his face. She knew that smug expression when it was there.
"Exactly. Have a desire to try?"
She ignored it. Ignored the spark inside her body that flashed in reaction to his words. Dangerous and tempting: that's what he was.
She recoiled away easily, and glanced at him with an admiring smirk.
"Stay away from my friends. Or the one who is going to be fucked to death will be you."
Emet-Selch only scoffed at that. The grin on his face seemed to almost tear it apart, that's how satisfied he was. But his eyes, cold, empty and meaningful at the same time, those pale golden eyes, bright in contrast to the dark bags under them - they showed her nothing but the calculating look. The calculating look of a madman. Of a psychopath, who wasn't like this originally, but was forced to become something monstrous, something alien, wallowing in pain.
She was looking in the mirror. This would be her if she would lose. These would be her eyes if she would let him reach his atrocious goal, she would become this lost person. There could be no heroes without people placing their hopes on them. There could be no warrior without a reason to fight.
She turned around and walked away from her adversary, who was still standing with his back leaned to the tree. In the end, nobody won. This time, at least. One cannot reach their own reflection.