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Medb takes her first breath of the modern world, and finds it…stale. Even the fog surrounding her lacks taste or scent. Perhaps she’s in a room that has yet to be furnished. If she squints, she can see white plaster on the ceiling, as pretty as an eggshell. Oh, that’s right, I have something important to do!
After brushing invisible lint off her clothes—one must make a good first impression when gracing the world with your presence—she lashes out at the fog with her whip, shooing it away like an unwanted suitor. It departs promptly, as it should.
“That’s much better.” She giggles, coyly folding her arms behind her back. “I ask you: are you worthy to be my Master? Or rather…” She giggles again, letting a hint of ice creep into her voice. “…Are you a warrior who fights for me?”
Someone—a man—snorts in disdain. “Don’t be ridiculous, Servant. You fight for me.”
Medb deigns to give this man her attention. He’s tall, blond and with eyes like a winter sky, not unlike those who dared attack Erin in her time. Also like those men, this one is self-satisfied to the extreme. He may look like a military man in his blue and silver attire, but he’s a merchant at best. In short: not her type at all.
And as if to mock her, three Command Seals rest on the back of his hand.
However, there are ways to control bitter men such as this one. Medb smiles and gives a slight curtsy, almost-but-not-quite letting him see beyond her skirt. “Why, hello there, Master! You’ve done well to summon this…Rider…to be by your side.”
“I see you know your place, Rider,” her would-be Master sneers, but she spots a hint of relief behind his cold eyes. “Very well. We need to strategize for the coming battles, so—”
Medb pretends to yawn behind her hand. “Oh, but that’s so dull, Master. Surely someone as strong and intelligent as you already knows what needs to be done! I’ll leave all the planning in your capable hands.”
“…Oh.” The Mage clears his throat awkwardly and straightens up to his full, not-inconsiderable height. “That is, you have sound judgement, Rider. Yes, I shall plan our attack myself, while you conserve your mana.”
“About that…” Medb glances coyly to one side, eyelashes lowered beguilingly. “…Since I only just materialized, I’m not at full strength. But surely someone like you could fill me up—”
The Mage puffs up like an angry badger. “Rider, I’m a married man!”
“No, he isn’t,” calls an annoyed woman’s voice the next room over. There's a restrained beauty to it that distracts Medb from the game at hand until the Mage speaks again.
“Ugh, fine, I will be a married man. And thus, your mana supply will come from my fiancée.”
Medb sees her opening and pounces, while outwardly showing off her most innocent expression. “But Master…she’s to be married too. Or is it ‘different for girls’?” She giggles, showing off just a hint of her wickedness. “In that case, I don’t mind! I’ll make sure we’re both satisfied.”
It’s amusing, watching the Mage’s face go from pale to crimson to purple as he tries and fails to reconcile his practicality with his jealousy. He opens and closes his mouth like a beached fish—why, it’s almost cute, in a pathetic sort of way.
“Master, is something wrong?” Medb asks, dancing over to him and placing her palm on his forehead. A slight squeeze, and she could crush his skull. “You look unwell…”
“You two can work out the particulars,” he finally rasps, lurching away from her as if she’s a demon. “I am going to rethink this summoning.”
In that case, Medb decides to tease him one last time. “Oh, you’re not going to join us? Too bad…it would’ve been fun watching you squirm. If you wanted”—she stands on tiptoe and whispers in his ear—“we could blindfold you and let you listen to your fiancee enjoying my touch over yours.”
The Mage releases her from their contract so fast, she barely has time to laugh in his face as she fades away in a burst of pink motes.