The lack of action from the decadent elf nearby was quite suspicious to the necessarily deadly Dean, whose eyes flicked from one woman to the other. Methuseld’s new persona was clearly not an act – as clearly as the elf woman’s overt sexuality was, at least partially, for her benefit. On the one hand, Dean was quite open to the suggestions of the elf – some nice, raw rutting would be good for the Shadow. On the other, being stabbed in the back and manipulated weren’t so appealing. Her continued silence only made his suspicions worse, to the point that he had several defenses readied and shifted away from the generously curved woman just to be safe.<br/><br/>Turning his attention back to Methuseld and her disrobing, Dean felt a mixture of pity and loathing roil through him. The way she acted told him that she’d been cursed or somehow altered by magic and he could not ignore the parallels between her and himself. Shadow and Knight. Shadow and knight. And how relieved and happy she seemed, now that she was free of her curse! Dean hated the thought that being free of his Knight might bring him the same – hated that she had attained a freedom that he could never know and, by definition of what he was, could not survive. Then again, she had not known what he’d known through his bond with Donovan – the rewards of being tethered, through Glory, to a Knight. Thus, he felt a form of pity. Pity that was only amplified by the fact that all of her lusty, passionate nature seemed to have vanished.<br/><br/>This broken, defeated woman before him was not a subject worthy of lust. And thus, even the vile Shadow, a creature who had happily unleashed a horrific plague upon a city, did not raise a hand against the girl.<br/><br/>“The individual is always more difficult to contend with than the aggregate,” Dean murmured disgustedly. Glancing again at the still and silent elf, Dean shrugged.<br/><br/>“Sleep, woman,” he said. “There will be no fun had in this chamber, no pleasures explored.” So saying, he extended a tanned hand and drew a simple mark across he wall near Methuseld – the shadow staining the wood, then vanishing before it could be easily inspected.<br/><br/>Turning away from the wretched creature he pitied and the statuesque manipulator, Dean began ambling up the stairs in search of his Knight and the Fox – certain that more enjoyable matters would be had there, if only in the capricious nature of the fox girl. He’d left his Seal behind and he trusted the mark to handle the elf’s magics, if and when she awoke.<br/>