To stand the temptation...

Laandra woke up in darkness.
She laid down by a wall of the cave, closely huddled in a thick, woolen, fur lined cloak. It felt warm and good and the searing pain was long gone.
A fire burnt a little further, in the middle of the confined space.
Her senses suddenly awaken, she got up, ready to fight. She saw staff lying by her improvised bed and placed a hand to it, as if the magic within the weapon could reassure her somehow…give her strength in the trial that, perhaps, was yet to come.

“So you’ve woken up”…

The words trailed in the warm air. Laandra heard a chuckling, then saw the little imp curiously studying her from the other edge of the small cave.

“She’s no good master, let’s kill her’, the creature whispered. But the tall, slender, inhumanly beautiful blood elf looked with despise at the imp and hushed it.
Laandra remembered vividly his face from the moments before losing her consciousness.

How did his features have not become tainted with the dark inside?
A warlock.

She could oh-so-easily recognize a Curse of Agony when she felt one.

He gave her a small, almost painful smile.
“I’m sorry”, he said apologetically. “I just…overreacted. In fact, he continued, with a shrug, I probably needed some company..."
“Oh, so a Curse of Agony was the logical choice then” she snapped…”What about “Hey, I wanna talk to you?” “ she added, ironically.

If she were to die in this forsaken place at the hands of a self sufficient blood elf, at least she could afford the luxury of defiance.

But he retorted with a sort of own mockery that almost amazed her.

“ I’m afraid my social skills are…a bit rusty…”
“No wonder…” Laandra muttered under her breath. The place, the elf, the continuous babbling of the imp, all felt a little eerie. Forcing herself into awareness, she sent towards him a small blast of fire, not actually harmful, but enough to give him a short taste of pain.

Erieannan jumped back, cursing, as the cloud of fire closed around him.

“ Suppose that was a “hello, nice to meet you too”, Laandra said, calmly, wondering if she had just signed her death sentence or not. Well, Light knew, she was ready, she thought, recalling the familiar words of the prayer.

Light is with me so I stand in harm's way and I do not fear..

He stared at her, disbelieving while the imp produced even more irritating noise than before, until Eireannan turned towards him, snapping his fingers and the creature vanished, with a loud "crack".

“ I could…kill you…so easily”, he said, his voice shaking.

“Well, that’s why you probably need to put Curses of Agony on people to make them keep you company”.

“ I could torture you until you beg to be let to die…”

The threat sent a chill down her spine, but she strove to keep up the courageous face.

“ What stops you then?”

Erieannan bit his lower lip, delaying the answer.

He did not know.

A part of him, the one filled with rage and hatred just wanted to see her knelt in front of him, sobbing, broken. The monster inside would have fed on her tears, on her suffering, renewing the dark flame that warmed his soul, kept him going.
But she had done him no harm.

And he was no killer.

He shook his head.

“Not tonight. Look, he added, I made some soup for the both of us. The blizzard started about an hour ago and is going to keep up for a while. Can you just eat, be grateful for the warm place and stop arguing?”

This nearly made her jaw drop as she stared at him almost in shock. She had mentally and spiritually strengthened herself for whatever dark plans the warlock had with her. Burning her alive, consuming her slowly with curses, feeding her to his demons, defiling her body in all possible ways...

None of these possibilities, however, included a cosy setting by the fire and hot soup.

Eireannan didn't give her the time to recover from the surprise. He handed her the bowl of almost boiling soup and took his own, while seating himself comfortably on the other side of the fire.

There was silence. Only the wind outside, howling with a thousand voices, some of them probably of wolves and other night beasts stirred from their shelter by the storm.

The soup was reasonably good, maybe a bit too lacking in spices, but in the middle of the wilderness ingredients usually came in short supply. It was still way better than her usual lunch made up of conjured bread and spring water, an occasional glass of milk or some moon berry juice in between. Conjured bread was enough to quench her hunger, but it felt tasteless most of the time.

Laandra ate quietly, her knees tightly crossed under her green robes, her back against the wall of the cavern. She had sat on her tail and now was striving to gently get off it, without the blood elf noticing. Funny enough, to stumble in her own body parts, she thought, as she managed to pull out the tail from under herself and reseated more carefully this time.

He didn't raise his eyes from his meal, even if the stir of her movement had probably drawn his attention. She felt grateful about it.

" So I'm a prisoner?" she inquired, setting the empty bowl aside and flexing her long, shapely fingers. The inquisitive look on her face made it all more beautiful, Erieannan thought, fighting to keep himself composed. Oh, and it wasn't only her shapely figures, he knew it damn well. It was her magic.

Her magic, so strong he could sense it from where he was seated, making him burn with the urge to touch her. His addiction had not been much of a problem lately, as he could draw enough mana from his demons to keep the torturing agony of withdrawal at bay. Never though, had he taken enough to feed his hunger entirely. A twisted being as he may have been, Erieannan shrugged to himself, he considered a little pain a healthy thing. It kept his attention focused on his purpose and made it easier to retain control over himself.

But the spiritual essence of this woman was pure, untainted by shadow, something thousand times better than what he could extract from a demon. And so was the temptation to lose himself if only for a short while, to break her down into submission, take that energy, take it all and relish in it.

"No, no, no" he muttered to himself, as he stood up to throw some more wood on the fire. Something to keep his hands busy. Looking down at them, he saw they were trembling.

Consider then it's a test of will, idiot. You will not do it.

The woman sat there, probably unaware of his struggle. All to the better, since the perspective would have scared the hell out of her. Eireannan forced his thoughts into submission, while sitting back again, as far from her as he could. Oh, she was in no real danger, he knew it well. You didn't get a powerful warlock without being a freak of control...control over everything, your body, your mind, the corrupted creatures of the Twisting Nether.

He would not break down. If he did, it would all be over.

Not yet, at least.