<b>Re: The Magician's Apprentice (Leaquad, Qedesha, doom)</b><br/><br/>She was flushed from the struggle, busily tucking hair back into place and straightening her gown. It had been a moment of sheer terror, her slight body helpless against the sheer physical strength of the two men. She had had an array of spells to hand, any of which might have sent the men reeling... or at least driven them back for a moment... and the whole lot had fled her mind in the moment of crisis, washed away by the wave of panic.<br/><br/>And also, frighteningly, disturbingly... there had been excitement. Joy at the rush of emotion, thrill at the loss of control, the knowledge that no matter what happened it wasn't her fault, a freedom in itself. Even anticipation, the licentious evils that she'd been warded against, the pleasures of the flesh she was forbidden to enjoy, all dancing for her enjoyment in the vivid imagination behind her eyes.<br/><br/>She could still feel the heat, the sensitive skin from the hard, calloused hand that threatened to tear the silk of her dress. He'd pressed against the small space between the stays of her corset, somehow... through luck or experience... and she wondered how she'd felt to him. Had he enjoyed the touch, had he wanted more?<br/><br/>Her arm felt bruised, both did in fact, and she examined them for a moment. She didn't really see them, though, lost in her self-analysis, her quick yet inexperienced mind wondering at her own reactions, her own intentions. Then the view of the crone made her literally jump. Her mouth worked, words stillborn as she stares at the woman.<br/><br/>"The School of White greets you in peace," she said finally, taking refuge in the ancient, safe words. They weren't really rightfully her words... technically she should be a graduated Master to offer them, a rank still a few years away. Further words were lost on her as she watched the crone, hoping for an explanatory opening.