Lina stepped back, hands in position as she drew upon unseen energy.
"Fire….BALL!"
A flame erupted from the mighty but tiny sorceress' hands and chased its way across the clearing, where the sorceress' apprentices scrambled to dodge the example their teacher sent their way.
"Ugh, do you think we'll ever get to learn the Dragon Slave?!" Arielle grumbled after narrowly missing another of Lina's well-crafted fireballs. She smelt something burnt and hoped it wasn't any of her belongings. After three months of empty promises and hand-waving from their mentor, Arielle was at her wits end and incredibly sick of the seemingly trivial spells. Today was spent casting fireball after fireball, each of her spheres lackluster and certainly not to her mentor's satisfaction.
Arielle du Salda, a budding sorceress from the coast, had relentlessly pursued Lina Inverse so that she would take an interest in guiding the younger sorceress' novice magic abilities. It had taken some pleading-but-trying-not-to-be-desperate letters to catch the older sorceress' attention, but finally, finally, Lina accepted the 19 year-old as her mentee. Full of enthusiasm and an excitement she could barely contain, Arielle had done as Lina instructed and traveled to the Seyruun border, visions of her and Lina adventuring, her learning the ropes, maybe she'd even learn the feared Ragna Blade after Dragon Slave. Her pride had swelled upon finally receiving a "sure" until she arrived and discovered that Lina had another apprentice lined up: Petra Glorionova.
""Keep it up with your crappy fireball, and we'll never get to black magic!" Petra's retort was unusually snippy by her standards, but then Arielle caught sight of the singed ends of Petra's cloak. Thank goodness it wasn't her own cloak—she had "borrowed" it from her sister. She'd never hear the end of it if said cloak returned damaged.
"C'mon! Throw me one! I don't have all day!"
Petra glanced at Lina and back to Arielle with a shrug. Her turn yet again. Arielle scowled and geared up for another fireball.
"Fire… ball!" Arielle shouted, yet another lopsided sphere emerging from her cast. It barely advanced beyond the clearing's midpoint—still a aways from where Lina stood on the other side awaiting something to deflect—before disintegrating.
"Seriously, Arielle? We've been at this for hours!" Lina groaned as she threw her hands in the air and stamped her feet, "I'm starting to wonder if you actually knew any magic to begin with!"
That struck a nerve. But Arielle wasn't going to let the fearsome Lina Inverse see her quiver—well, not any more so than usual. Arielle took a deep breath and stood resolute.
"Fire…. BALL!" The sphere again was misshapen and only flew maybe a foot or two past where the previous had fallen apart into nothingness.
Lina looked at where the fireball disintegrated yet again and then looked up at Arielle disapprovingly, eyebrows raised and yet did not utter a single word.
Arielle scowled and turned away in a huff.
"Your turn, Petra. Try putting some anger into it, maybe that will help," Arielle said between gritted teeth as Lina's moody dissatisfaction emanated from where she stood. The woman was petite, sure, but her personality and ability to scare the living daylights out of someone even with a field's width between them made up for it. A forced scowl crossed Petra's face as she puffed up her chest and took a deep breath.
Petra had been a favor for the innkeeper who gave Lina a few weeks' for free while holed up in the library, the sorceress had explained to the baffled Arielle. Upon meeting her new colleague, Arielle couldn't help but immediately assume they'd be rivals. It was how these things worked! They were already the opposite in looks. Where Arielle was tall, slightly tanned, and had blonde hair, Petra had an olive skin tone that complimented her dark hair. Where Petra's limbs comfortably curved; Arielle was straight edges and bony elbows. what Petra lacked in stature, Arielle held in height. It was almost as if they were the quintessential foils with opposing temperament and build. A rival was not something Arielle signed up for; however, Arielle soon realized that studying under the likes of the temperamental and merciless Lina Inverse made having someone to commiserate with was more than needed. It was necessary.
When Arielle's Flare Arrow was barely the size of an arrowhead, Lina screeched about how it was so pathetic that small children could do better. And Petra's Digger Volt? More like a soft breeze. Lina had dead-panned that not even that would knock over a feather. Lina was indeed a tough teacher, and instead of competing against each other, Arielle and Petra had realized that working together to please Lina (and learn magic while they're at it) was far more productive.
"Fire…. Ball!" Petra cried, and an amorphous flame burst forth from her hands. It quickly fell apart mid-air and dissipated into smoke and ash, hardly anything to cause any enemies significant harm, let alone a first degree burn.
Lina stood with hands on hips. Her mouth was a thin line as she considered the two girls' inability to cast a decent fireball. Petra hung her head in shame, even Arielle's fireball had taken a more definitive shape than hers.
"You know," Petra muttered to Arielle, "I knew Miss Lina's tough, but she really can be mean. We are supposed to be learning!"
Arielle glanced furtively across the field at Lina and dropped her voice to a whisper.
"My sister's got a friend in the Guild, and apparently the swordsman who traveled for a long time with Miss Lina left her a while back. No one knows what happened—which is weird, because they were close. Very close. She disappeared for a while, apparently Miss Lina's become more, uh, prickly without him around."
Petra blinked dubiously at this information.
"More prickly? Can that be possible?"
Arielle shrugged and dug around for a canteen. All these terrible fireballs were making her thirsty.
"Not when you're Lina Inverse, I guess."
Lina sipped on her whisky, lost in her thoughts after the long day spent training her apprentices in casting measly fireballs. Sure, Arielle and Petra were young and eager to please, but Lina detected both would require dedicated time and attention in their pursuit of learning black magic.
Lina surveyed the girls as they sat together at a table in their inn's tavern—Arielle and Petra were indeed young in that they were younger than her, but still old enough to drink in each others' company. An awkward pause hung in the air, a naturally awkward pause, given that the three of them were still practically strangers—plus, the two girls were still uncertain about relaxing around their teacher.
"Well, thank you for the fireball lessons, Miss Lina," Petra smiled politely as she set down her empty wine glass, "I am just so grateful you're taking this time to teach us." Across the table, Arielle yawned—she had only drank half of her wine and already felt its effects—before noticing Lina and Petra glancing at her.
"Oh, yes, uh, thank you!" Arielle tried not to topple over her wine glass. The combination of alcohol and an uneasiness that had not yet receded in the presence of Lina Inverse made Arielle jittery.
Petra stood up and gently pushed her chair in, "I'm off to bed now. Maybe you should too, Arielle." Lina nodded in agreement as Arielle blushed and stood up as well.
"Good night, Miss Lina!"
"'Night, girls."
Lina savored the tingling feeling of the last drops of whisky on her tongue. She wasn't tired. Not yet. It was nice to have some time to herself after spending the day explaining fireball over, over, and over, although she supposed she wouldn't be solo for long.
The tavern was on the verge of bustling, but not overly busy. Men who worked the late shift in the nearby mines were just beginning their search of alcohol's cool hand to take the edge off the day's frustrations. Like clockwork, a gentleman suddenly appeared table-side. The stranger was stocky but handsome in a scruffy way with his messy dark hair and thick, toned upper body. Soot covered his trousers, however. Clearly, he was one of the miners coming in for a drink, and Lina was quick to notice the way he leered at her with dark green eyes.
"Anyone sitting here?" His baritone was smooth, silky, as if it could cocoon her like a luxurious blanket that she'd never had to leave. Lina shrugged and waved her hand, ushering him to sit. Maybe she could forgive the "fresh out of the mines" look, but it didn't matter—he wouldn't be there for long.
"The name's Guymon," He slid into the adjacent seat that Petra had vacated and leaned forward eagerly, "Would you like another drink? It's on me."
The corner of Lina's mouth quirked. It really wasn't in good conscience could she accept free drinks from a man who wouldn't last five minutes at her table, but another whisky did sound awfully nice.
"Sure," she returned the smile. Guymon grinned and called the waitress over. Whisky for her and more lager for him. Lina nodded politely at Wanette, who raised her eyebrows in return. Lina and her apprentices had been staying at this inn for a couple weeks now, and it wasn't the first time the tavern had produced a handsome stranger offering to buy her a drink.
Being self-conscious about her petite frame seemed like eons ago. Lina learned quickly as an adult woman that it was only Gourry who took issue with her chest—all sorts of men were attracted to her, no matter the size of her breasts. Once her awkward angles filled out, Lina was a striking woman—her years of feasting never caught up with her, what with the metabolic advantage black magic afforded her. She didn't even consider her current outfit of a faded yellow tunic over black tights tucked into weathered boots to be terribly enticing. Naturally, Guymon must have been lured by her good looks and breezy confidence. It was hard for Lina not to be amused with Guymon, though. He so clearly had one thing on his mind with his lecherous grin.
"Now what did you say your name was?" Guymon's gaze dropped to her chest and immediately began a greedy roam.
Some men couldn't play subtle even if they tried.
"I didn't," Lina responded cooly as Wanette handed her the new glass of whisky and placed the lager in front of Guymon, "But it's Lina." She heard Wanette huff as she walked away. Really, the waitress needed to mind her own business. Lina smiled placidly at Guymon.
"Well, Li-na," Guymon took his glass in hand snd lifted into it into the air, "Cheers!"
"Cheers," she clinked her glass against his, and they both drank. Lina let the pleasant tingling sensation of whisky slide over her tongue as Guymon took a long, slurping swig.
His eyes—those handsome dark green eyes that he used to make his intentions quite apparent—shot open suddenly. Guymon appeared confused for a few seconds before that confusion transformed into fear. Lina brought the whisky back to her lips—she already knew the cause of Guymon's sudden distress.
"I-i-i-I gotta go," Guymon stuttered, unceremoniously jumping up and running off. His barely consumed lager remained on the table, and spots of soot lay where he had sat.
"Scaring off men again?" Wanette the waitress appeared suddenly. Lina snorted.
"Don't worry, Wanette, you'll get your tip," Lina said as sweetly as she could muster. Wanette huffed and strode off to another table. Lina tapped her fingers, somewhat impatiently, and waited for the culprit to make an appearance.
And sure enough, barely a minute had passed when Xellos suddenly materialized, a happenstance that always went unnoticed—despite the numerous times the hasty departure of any man daring to sit with Lina Inverse brought attention her way.
Yes, Lina was quite attractive to men, men who would love to woo her, even handsome men that Lina wouldn't mind allowing to do so—
—if the Monster she was sleeping with would let them near her, that is.
Lina rolled her eyes at Xellos' inevitable appearance and smacked him lightly on the shoulder.
"I can fend for myself, you know."
"It's so much more fun this way," the barest trace of a teasing pout crossed his face. Elbow on the table, he held his chin with a single hand and leaned closely toward the sorceress; his presence tantalizing. It seemed like eons ago when the proximity of his physical form would unnerve her; now, she only felt a curious excitement that betrayed itself in gooseflesh and a rising heart beat.
"If you say so," Lina looked down at her drink, paused, and looked back up at Xellos with skepticism, "What do you even do anyway? Show them their worst nightmares?"
"Worse," Xellos leaned much closer than he already had been, his lips not quite brushing hers, "I show them what I'd do to them if they try to pursue you."
Lina had supposed she ought to be indignant over this possessive streak of Xellos', but damn if it didn't stroke her ego. Of course she was more certain than ever that she, Lina Inverse, was always and forevermore a gorgeous sorcery genius, but to have that affirmation, unspoken or not, from an extremely powerful being? Like Lina would tell him that, though—she pulled away, which resulted in a much more pronounced pout. Lina could practically hear a whine. She downed her whisky and stood up.
"I'm off to my room—gotta get up early since I'm taking the girls on the road."
Xellos remained seated and his expression resumed its neutral, placid default.
"Oh? Will I get to meet them at last?"
Lina stopped mid-step and glared down at him. Her standing offered a rare height difference in her favor.
"Not anytime soon, if ever," she smirked. Lina knew better than to mix business with pleasure. She wasn't quite sure what she would call this…. entanglement? It was certainly not a "relationship," but it also felt more than just a beautiful, genius sorceress allowing a creepy but disconcertingly charming Monster into her bed to suit her most primal needs.
He didn't turn to face her, only tilted his head back and opened his eyes to meet hers.
"Ever? Surely you'd be more hospitable that that."
She snorted and leaned on the table, anchoring her hand next to his, and spoke quietly into his ear.
"I can make it up to you by letting you help me ensure I am thoroughly rested."
He grinned, a wolfish smile seemingly befitting only of Xellos. His gloved hand enveloped hers and intertwined her bare fingers with his.
"That can be arranged, Lina dear."
Using her joined hand as an anchor, he pulled her towards him and met her lips with his. She returned the kiss with a knowing smirk, and the two vanished from the room. The discarded whisky glass toppled to its side with a loud clink, the only remaining evidence that somebody had even been there.