Glade 60 4623
In the heart of the bustling city, tucked between a worn cobbler’s shop and a fragrant bakery, there stood a time-worn tavern. Its woodwork was chipped and faded, bearing testament to countless tales of camaraderie, conflict, and love lost and found. Luna found herself there on this particular evening, sitting at a weathered oak bar, cradling a lukewarm mug of bitter ale. The tavern was filled with the animated symphony of the evening crowd. Clanging tankards, raucous laughter, and a mediocre lute player strumming an off-key melody from the corner. The scent of roasted meat, the dull murmur of countless conversations, and the occasional shriek of laughter made the room come alive. Luna let her gaze wander through the fog of pipe smoke, observing the crowd with a detached interest.
Her eyes landed on a couple seated across the room. A finely dressed man, likely a merchant or noble, engrossed in conversation with a woman. The woman, Luna recognized immediately. She was a regular at the tavern, and Luna had a particular distaste for her. It wasn't out of personal grievance or a bitter feud, but rather, it was her arrogance that irked Luna. Her manner, her words, even her laugh seemed to imply that she was above everyone else. Tonight, this woman was basking in the attention of her handsome companion, while casting disdainful glances at the less fortunate individuals around her. Luna frowned at the sight, her grip tightening around her mug.
She had always been good at handling her emotions, but something about the woman's smug expression irked her. It sparked a question, a curiosity that was purely scientific. Luna could manipulate many emotions, but she'd never tried to invoke anger before, not to any meaningful degree at least. How much rage could she make someone feel? The woman, she decided, would be an ideal test subject.
A soft smile played on Luna’s lips as she made up her mind, her gaze fixated on the woman. The tavern, the laughter, the crowd, everything seemed to fade into the background. Luna’s attention was solely on the woman, a newfound sense of determination coursing through her. She readied herself, summoning her mentalism powers. An unseen tether of magic sprang to life, connecting Luna to the woman. It was time to begin her experiment. Seated comfortably at her perch at the bar, Luna began to focus her ether, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.
She felt the tether of magic connecting her to the woman in a nearly invisible thread. It was there, however, palpable in its intensity and potential. As Luna prepared to invoke rage in her unsuspecting test subject, she tuned in to the conversation between the woman and the man, eavesdropping with casual interest. “...I simply adore the theater,” the woman was saying, batting her eyelashes at her male companion. She was playing coy, delicately holding her wine glass, attempting to look graceful. “The last play I saw was simply marvelous. You must take me to see one soon.”
The man chuckled, leaning in closer. “Is that so? I happen to have tickets. Would you care to join me?”
“Oh, I'd love to!” she exclaimed, a falsely modest smile adorning her face.
Luna smirked, seeing through her charade. She focused on the tether linking her to the woman. With a gentle mental push, she channeled a sliver of rage down the bond, observing the woman carefully. The woman's smile faded slightly, replaced by a brief flash of irritation. Her gaze became more critical, scrutinizing her companion.
Her words came out sharper than intended. "Why did you not mention this before?"
The man looked taken aback, clearly surprised by her change in tone. "I... I was waiting for the right moment. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise."
The woman's face twisted into a frown, her hands clenched in her lap. Luna continued to feed the rage, amplifying the woman's irritation into annoyance, then annoyance into anger. The woman suddenly slammed her wine glass onto the table, startling both the man and nearby patrons. Luna watched, fascinated and slightly exhilarated by the clear display of her successful emotional manipulation. The experiment was going better than expected, but she wasn't done yet. She was yet to see just how blind the rage could get.
Fuelled by Luna's manipulations, the woman was now a storm brewing. The man was clearly bewildered, attempting to calm her down, but his words seemed to only incense her further. Luna sat back, her fingers idly playing with the rim of her glass, watching the drama unfold with detached amusement.
"Look, Mira, I just thought...," the man stuttered, but was cut off abruptly by the woman slamming her fists onto the table. Her face was contorted in pure rage, her cheeks flush with fury.
"You just thought?!" she shrieked, her eyes blazing. The entire tavern had gone quiet now, all eyes on the spectacle unfolding. "You always do this! You think you know what's best for me, don't you?!"
The man was dumbfounded, his eyes wide with shock. "Mira, please, people are watching," he muttered, glancing around nervously.
"I don't care!" she exploded, standing up abruptly, her chair clattering to the floor. Her glass of wine tipped over, staining the tablecloth with deep red. Luna could almost feel the waves of rage emanating from her. She savored it, the realization of her power both exhilarating and frightening.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she continued to amplify the woman's fury, watching as she descended into a blind rage. The woman was shouting now, her words lost in her fury, the man helplessly trying to contain the situation. Finally, he grabbed his coat, quickly throwing some coins on the table before fleeing the scene. The woman, still fuming, eventually sank back into her chair, her energy seemingly spent. The tavern slowly returned to its usual murmur, though many were still casting nervous glances at the woman. Luna couldn't help but chuckle, finishing her drink and placing some coins on the counter. The entire event had been highly entertaining, not to mention educational.
Luna focused her azure gaze on another unsuspecting pair, her lips curling in a slow, predatory smile. She reached out with the almost imperceptible threads of her magic, the fine ethereal tethers of her Mentalism extending, seemingly born from her very essence. The first found purchase in the unsuspecting man, latching onto his psyche with an almost clinical precision. Luna began to manipulate his emotions, infusing his mind with an escalating fear. The change in him was almost immediate, his eyes widening, pupils dilating as if the light of day had suddenly vanished and he was left in utter darkness. His hands began to shake, his posture wilting as if a great weight had settled onto his shoulders.
While the man became a puppet for her fear-inducing powers, Luna directed her focus towards the woman, the second tether of her power finding its mark. Through this connection, she released an equally potent surge of anger, the Provocateur reverie in full display. The woman's expression shifted dramatically, her face turning a splotchy, deep shade of crimson. The light in her eyes grew darker, colder, replaced by a fiery rage that seemed to consume her from within. Her entire body tensed, her knuckles whitening as she clenched her fists tightly, her nails biting into the soft flesh of her palms.
Under the influence of Luna's powers, the woman turned on the man, hurling a litany of accusations and curses, her voice raising several decibels. As the first words left the woman's lips, the man recoiled as if struck, his already heightened fear spiking uncontrollably. In a state of near panic, he leapt up, stumbling over his own feet in his hurry to put distance between himself and the enraged woman. He fled, the soles of his boots slipping on the worn floorboards as he made a hasty, rather undignified exit.
All the while, Luna watched with a satisfied smile, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. It was an odd form of amusement, yet she found a certain delight in understanding and manipulating these raw, powerful emotions. It was like a game, a dance of power and control. The more she indulged, the more proficient she became, and the more she was left wanting. It was a delicious cycle, one she was not keen on breaking anytime soon.
Luna slid onto a barstool, a triumphant gleam in her eyes reflecting the light of the tavern's dim candles. She caught the barkeep's eye, her index finger subtly beckoning him. He sidled over, a worn cloth over his shoulder, his face questioning. Luna leaned in, her voice clear in the ambient noise. "Bring me your finest brandy," she commanded, a confident smirk gracing her lips. He nodded, moving to fetch her order. For Luna, the luxury of a high-priced drink was an indulgence, a tangible reward she relished. It was an echo of her success, a toast to what’d she’d done.
