Sex-addled Methuseld's only indication that the fight had started was Dean tumbling against the mattress, missing his initial strike. A quiet moan escaped her lips at Aza's farewell lick, but soon there was fighting in<em>very</em>close proximity of the blonde and she didn't want to become collateral damage in this literal shadow war. The seduction spell broken now, at least temporarily, Methuseld quickly but dizzily rolled off the bed and with a few long bounds was over in the relative safety of Donovan's presence, pale curves rolling this way and that along her tall, lithe frame. Still nude, save only for the relatively flimsy piece of fabric passed between two smooth, powerful, bare thighs to by synched off at her lower back to cover a fraction of her rear as well as her womanhood. And the warrior was painfully aware of just how naked (and vulnerable) she was, covering two of her 'cute' apple-sized breasts with a forearm pressed firmly against them.<br/><br/>All arousal erased, Methuseld gaped in part wonder and part grim consideration as the two shadow creatures, Aza and Dean, wrestled, nipped, and hit each other in a wispy cloud of shadow that almost totally obscured the two, sparing the two observers from seeing the majority of the violence. Methuseld hated magic; she had been compelled to serve the Vizier by a curse, and now she felt all the more foolish for having fallen for it, somewhat of her own free will, with Aza. Seduced by this... This shadow creature that now fought Dean for dominance.<br/><br/>She wanted her armor and her sword, but both lay in a pile at the foot of the vast bed, and there was no way she'd risk coming that close to the fighting again. "Can't you put a stop to this?" She snapped, annoyed, at Donovan, mostly out of a sense of helplessness and frustration with herself.