/Author's Note: More 500-word drabbles! They're so painful, but so fun. Singkatsu once again challenged me to a rather unorthodox pairing: Luke and the Witch! I hope you'll enjoy what I made of these two characters. As always, feedback is appreciated. End Author's Note/
The Witch and the Woodsman
For years, tales of the Fugue Forest were among the most popular shared at the Brass Bar. Everyone loved a good story of intrigue – and sometimes even, horror – and when it was set in Castanet's very own local woods, the interest was even greater. Such a stigma had fallen over the place that few dared to enter nowadays; only the brave or the foolhardy would creak open the wooden gate and take the plunge into the depths of the forest.
Some whispered about the winding pathways that supposedly twisted and turned in new directions with every step; others exchanged stories about spirits wandering between the thickets; but the only story to capture Luke's interest so far was of a silver-haired witch who made the forest her home.
"A babe? In the woods? Say no more, men, I'm on my way!" the carpenter slammed his tankard of beer down on the table and got up, rolling up his sleeves as he headed for the door.
"Wait! Dude, she could be a - a serial killer!" Owen called out after him.
"She could be like, a thousand." Drawled Julius. " 'Silver' hair is just a nicer way of saying 'gray', after all."
"She could not exist." Chase rolled his eyes.
Luke spun around and crossed his muscled arms. "Dude. Dudes. She lives in the forest, all alone, prob'ly has a pet dragon or wicked-ass tarantula or something. She sounds like the girl of my dreams! I've been choppin' that forest up for lumber for years, how could I not have met her?"
"Maa-aybe because she doesn't exi-ist?" Chase sing-songed sarcastically.
"Hmph! I'll prove it. I'll, I'll go in there right now and come back out with the most extreme girlfriend Castanet's ever seen!"
# # #
"Who is knocking at this ungoddessly hour?!" A door creaked open, and immortal amber eyes met with mortal eyes of the exact same hue. Crap. Someone finally found me.
"You exist!" he gasped, the smell of cheap alcohol wafting into the Witch's house.
"I do," she said crossly, "Unlike your brain. How stupid do you have to be to seek out a real-life, spell-slinging, life-ending witch?"
"Lady, y'don't know just how deep my stupidity goes," slurred the human, giving her a completely unnecessary thumbs up. Human digits were such a potent alchemical ingredient – but she resisted. This was the first visitor she had had in centuries, and breaking off his thumbs would probably be poor form.
"Whatever. Why did you come to me? Need a potion? A curse? Someone turned into a frog? Make it quick, then get outta here."
"I'm here for love, baby! Love!"
She blanched.
"You 'n me are gonna be Castanet's new power couple! Now where's yer dragon? Let's go set fire to those non-believers, then fly off into the sunset!"
The witch was suddenly met with a moral dilemma.
"Then we can make sweet, extreme, dragon-ridin' love!"
Nope. Dilemma over.
"Right…" she held the door open and tapped the wood with her fingers, "My, um, 'dragon' is right in here. Why don't you step inside?"
The boy fist-pumped and kicked off his boots, walking into the circular abode of the witch. "Man, I can't wait to see the looks on their faces!"
"Yes, yes, make yourself … very comfortable."
The door slammed shut. The Witch was due for a new stock of potion ingredients anyway.