The Many Perils of Love at First Sight

The Warlock's Proposal

Victor Achilles was a very interesting man, very interesting and very dangerous. Though the warlock was roughly Sarai's age it was obvious he was not someone to be trifled with. He was sinfully wealthy and radiated control and tactical prowess. The long, thin scar on the right side of his face only added to his imposing aura. It ran down from his hairline, skipping over his dark blue eye, and dragged down his face again to the corner of his jawline. Everything about him whispered, "Do not fuck with me" and Sarai made sure to remember it.

His casual smile and unconcerned attitude struck her at odds with what she sensed bubbling beneath the surface. He took a long drag on his cigarette and it was quite obvious he was observing the woman sitting across from him with the weighted gaze of a tactician. The man was obviously planning something...ambitious, but she couldn't figure out what the hell it had to do with her.

Dark blue eyes slid over her own relaxed form as she lounged in the thick pillows of the couch. Her feet were tucked underneath and to the side as she leaned on one of the overstuffed arms. Her rough silk skirt was anachronistically long and full, but somehow suited the satin shirt that played down her curves. Pale, freckled, but smooth skin contrasted with long wavy hair that appeared to be black at first glance. Lastly, his eyes settled on the silk bandages that wrapped around her face from midway up the bridge of her nose to her hairline, completely covering her eyes and forehead in the process.

When he finally spoke, the woman perked her head up, blindly meeting his gaze as if the bandages were not a true hindrance to her perception, "I did not find you by accident, Sarai."

His speech was fluid, perfect as any native speaker's, but there was something powerful in the undertones of his voice that Sarai could barely Sense. It was something that niggled in the back of her mind.

The woman's lips quirked into a polite, but unconcerned smile and she sat her tea cup on the table, right in its spot on the saucer without seeming to pay much attention at all. When she spoke her words were slow, careful, and simple, "You do not look like the kind of man who makes a decision on a whim." She rested her chin in her hand, for all the world seeming to peer at the man before her despite the thick bandages that covered her sight.

Victor chuckled a bit and pulled another slow drag on his cigarette. "Very perceptive, Miss Sarai," his compliment was answered with a polite bow of the woman's head before he went on.

"I did what I had to do to ensure your grandmother would sell me that exquisite collection of books. I was hoping they would have the missing information I needed." His head tilted to the side, some of his long hair falling over his shoulder in glossy black strands. "I was quite disappointed with the lack of substance they provided, but it seems my gamble brought something unexpected to light." His eyes rested on the unusual woman's form again, "You are potentially what I needed all along, but I was looking for the pathway to get there." He chuckled, his eyes closing momentarily as it rolled out of him in a low, throaty rumble.

Sarai's face was a mask of polite indifference. The man before her was more than intimidating and while she'd only known him for a short while, and her contact had been limited and supervised, she knew that he was the kind of man who got what he wanted. The best course of action was to remain calm and neutral until she found out exactly what tune he wanted to dance to.

"I found references to your family and the nature of your curse in my research for another project. Her name was Muchiko Takanobu."

And that's when Sarai's carefully constructed facade crumbled into sand through Victor's fingertips. The dark haired woman's head snapped up, looking at him in disbelief. Then her energy flickered out, caressing his in a fashion that was impossible to detect, searching for falsehoods in his words.