𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 -- One of the Girls
𝟎𝟎𝟑 : Sick in the Head
(𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, pre-show)

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 liked the effect she had on people. It always felt like her own little superpower—the way she could tilt her head just so, look up at someone with her wide, innocent eyes, and bat her impossibly long lashes. It wasn't magic, but it might as well have been.

It was a cute quirk of hers, getting whatever she wanted from anyone since she was young. Unfortunately, her natural allure had drawn the wrong kind of attention far too often, even as a child. But now, at nineteen, with a sharper wit and a keener understanding of the world, what had she decided to do with her so-called "power"? Exploit it. Ruthlessly.

Enchantress had learned that people were predictable creatures, easily swayed by a glance, a smile, or the soft lilt of her voice. She leaned into it, mastered it. Every touch, every word was calculated to leave them fumbling, handing over whatever she needed before they even realized it.

She didn't care for guilt or apologies—what good were they in a world that had never apologized to her? If the universe wanted to gift her a weapon, she'd wield it with precision. And she did, walking through life as if it owed her something, and it always paid up.

And some believed her weaponization of seduction made her a whore. They weren't wrong—it wasn't exactly common for someone to seek out a job at a brothel the moment they turned eighteen. But Enchantress had always done things her way, and if that made her a whore, then so be it. She might have been one, but she'd be damned if she wasn't the classiest one there was.

Every step she took, every word she spoke, dripped with intention. She didn't grovel or beg; she commanded. If she was going to play the game, she would do it on her terms, with her own rules. They could call her whatever they wanted—she'd smile sweetly as she slipped their wallets from their pockets.

Enchantress didn't just sell her body; she sold a fantasy. Men and women alike flocked to her not because they wanted her but because they wanted the way she made them feel: desired, adored, invincible. It was all smoke and mirrors, a carefully constructed act. Her smile was a weapon, her touch a drug, and her gaze a trap that ensnared even the most jaded of hearts.

And yet, beneath all the silk and lace, she felt nothing for them. They were customers, coins in her palm, tools to carve out her survival in a world that had taught her early on that softness was a liability. Enchantress didn't just live in Zaun's shadows; she thrived in them. She was the queen of her small, glittering kingdom, where pleasure and power were indistinguishable, and no one played the game better than she did.

And playing the game often won you great prizes. Sure, she was spying for Silco now—a man she didn't entirely trust—but the execution of the informant who used to collect her intel had brought about a change in players. Now, instead of some slimy, forgettable middleman, Sevika had been sent in his place. And what a presence she had.

Sevika was tall, muscular, with broad shoulders and thighs Enchantress could often imagine herself in between. Her arms, corded with strength, looked as though they could crush steel—or cradle someone gently, if she so chose. She carried herself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, a headstrong demeanor that made men move aside and women steal second glances. Sevika didn't just walk into a room; she claimed it.

And then there was her face. Hardened by life in the Lanes, yes, but beautiful nonetheless. A strong jawline, lips that looked perpetually set in a smirk, and sharp eyes that gleamed with calculated intensity. The silvery streak in her dark hair only added to her appeal, a mark of maturity and battle-hardened wisdom.

She was at least fifteen years older than Enchantress, but that only added to her allure. There was something thrilling about the age gap—about the way Sevika seemed so grounded, so utterly in control. It was a challenge, and Enchantress never could resist those.

Sevika may have thought the cards were dealt in her favor, that she was too smart, too seasoned, too hardened to fall for Enchantress's ploys and tricks. She'd seen it happen to others—how they walked in with confidence and left with their pride in tatters, pockets lighter, and thoughts consumed. She'd sworn she wouldn't be like them.

But she could feel herself crumbling. Every time Enchantress leaned in, her perfume curling around Sevika like smoke, her voice dripping honey, she felt her resolve weaken. It wasn't just the way she looked, though that was part of it—the carefully curated allure, the effortless seduction in her every movement. It was the way Enchantress seemed to see right through her.

Every quip, every glare, every attempt at indifference felt like a losing battle. Because the truth was, Enchantress didn't just sell fantasy. She embodied it, and Sevika—grizzled, scarred, and stubborn—was no exception to her pull.

A puff of purple smoke slipped from Enchantress's lips, curling through the dimly lit room like a secret she wasn't quite ready to tell. Reclined on her chaise, her fingers idly toyed with the delicate pipe, painted nails tapping against its cool surface. Another knock echoed against the door, sharp and insistent.

Her eyes, framed by the soft glow of her mask, flicked toward the source of the noise, irritation briefly creasing her features. She let the smoke linger in her chest before exhaling slowly, the purple haze dispersing like a silken veil.

"Come in," she purred, her voice a velvet command, laced with just enough disinterest to make the visitor question if they'd disturbed her at the wrong moment.

It wasn't her typical demeanor. Enchantress liked to present herself as a sort of glittery, joyful fairy—if that fairy was a complete nympho. She had a way of disarming people with a wink and a smile, turning her decadence into something almost magical. But tonight? Tonight, the sparkle was dim, and her usual playful charm had been replaced with a sharp-edged irritation that made even the soft glow of her room feel suffocating.

The reason? She'd just endured one of the worst nights of her life. Not everyone knew how to be good in bed; that much she'd learned over the years. But to be that bad? It was almost a talent in itself. She took another long drag from her pipe, letting the purple smoke soothe her nerves before releasing it with a sigh.

She pitied the poor soul who'd have to spend another night with that man. No technique, no rhythm, no imagination—just a mess of fumbling hands and grunted apologies. And worst of all, he'd left a stain on her favorite sheets. The audacity.

Her door creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts. For a moment, she considered not even looking up. Whatever this was, she wasn't in the mood.

Enchantress didn't flinch. She'd known that voice all too well. It was a voice that didn't demand attention, it commanded it. Sevika. The right hand of Silco. The woman who always seemed to carry the weight of Zaun's darkest secrets on her broad shoulders.

She exhaled another puff of smoke, watching it curl into the air before lazily lowering the pipe from her lips. Her eyes flicked toward the door where Sevika stood, her imposing figure filling the doorway.

"You got anything for Silco today?" Sevika's voice boomed, though there was no need for such volume—her mere presence could make anyone tremble. Enchantress didn't respond immediately, letting the silence hang between them like a heavy curtain.

"You know I don't deal in petty things for Silco," Enchantress purred, her tone smooth, almost playful, but her eyes were tired. "I deal in information. And if you've got anything worth paying for, then I'll have something for you."

Sevika's gaze flickered briefly, a sharp look passing over her, but it softened just as quickly as she stepped fully into the room.

"You're always a damn tease." Sevika said, almost in amusement, her eyes scanning the room, making no attempt to hide the way she checked Enchantress over.

Enchantress couldn't help the smirk that tugged at her lips. "And yet, you still come back for more, don't you?" she replied, flicking the tip of her pipe as if dismissing the tension in the room. She knew Sevika didn't want to be here—not really. She wasn't here for the games, the flirtation, or the poison of her intoxicating charm. She was here for business. But Sevika knew better than anyone else that business often came with a price.

Sevika's eyes narrowed. "You've got something, I can tell. You always do. I just hope it's worth the trouble this time."

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady and unwavering as she watched Enchantress take another long drag from her pipe. There was something about the way she spoke, so casual, as if the weight of the moment didn't quite reach her. But Sevika knew better. Enchantress was always playing some sort of game—whether it was with herself, with others, or with the world around her.

"Then why bother?" Sevika asked, crossing her arms, her muscular frame blocking the door. The way she stood, unmoving and firm, made it clear she wasn't going anywhere until she got what she came for.

Enchantress blew a slow, deliberate ring of smoke into the air before replying. "Sometimes," she said, voice soft, "it's not about whether it's worth it. It's about making people think it is."

Sevika's lips curled into a half-smirk, her arms tightening across her chest. "You're a damn enigma, you know that?"

Enchantress let out a short laugh, the sound sweet and tinged with something far more dangerous. "If I were predictable, Sevika, you wouldn't keep coming back. You'd have no use for me."

There was a long pause before Sevika spoke again, her voice low and serious. "Don't mistake me, Enchantress. I'm not here to indulge your games." Her eyes darkened. "I'm here for business. If you're holding out on me, you'll regret it."

For a moment, Enchantress held Sevika's gaze, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "I don't hold out on anyone," she said, her voice a mix of mischief and sincerity. "But business, you say?" She tilted her head, watching Sevika with interest. "You sure you want to hear what I've got?"

Sevika's expression was unreadable, though the tension in her jaw suggested she was already regretting this little back-and-forth. But Enchantress knew her game all too well. When Sevika was here, standing in her space, trying to force answers, there was always something more beneath the surface.

"Spit it out," Sevika said, her tone a little less patient now, eyes narrowing.

Enchantress leaned back, exhaling a plume of smoke before speaking. "I've got information, but not the kind you're looking for," she said softly, her tone shifting to something more cryptic. "This is...personal. And you may not want to hear it."

Sevika took a step forward, her frustration beginning to show. "You're playing with fire, Enchantress."

The other woman merely shrugged, her gaze never leaving Sevika's. "Maybe. But fire can be useful... if you know how to handle it."

Her gaze lingered on Sevika's powerful thighs, a familiar pull she couldn't quite shake. She often wondered if, one day, Sevika would finally give in to the tension that always hung between them. If that day ever came, Enchantress was more than ready to accept her with open arms—and open legs.

With a soft smirk, she pulled the pipe from her lips, taking a slow, deliberate drag. She leaned forward slightly, extending it towards Sevika, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You wanna hit?" she asked, her voice low, almost inviting.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance flashing across her features. Enchantress could practically see the wheels turning in the woman's mind, but instead of saying anything, Sevika merely stood there, unmoving.

Enchantress let out a small giggle, as if amused by the tension. "Of the pipe, Sevika," she teased, her smile wide and playful. "My mind isn't always in the gutter, though I admit, it's a tempting place to be."

Sevika rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "If I take a hit, will you finally give me the intel?" she asked, her tone dry, but there was a slight edge to it that hinted she was more than willing to humor the girl—just to get what she needed.

Enchantress leaned back against the doorframe, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. "You really think a hit's gonna make me spill, Sevika?" she purred, eyes glinting with playful challenge. "I'm not that easy."

She tapped the side of the pipe thoughtfully, her gaze meeting Sevika's with an almost teasing intensity. "But maybe we can come to an agreement..."

Sevika's frustration was palpable, thick and heavy in the air. The calm façade she usually wore had cracked, and the tension simmered just beneath the surface, visible in the tight set of her jaw and the cold edge to her eyes. She had been patient long enough.

Without warning, she stormed across the room, her powerful strides a contrast to the languid, lazy air Enchantress seemed to carry with her. Sevika reached out with one hand, grabbing Enchantress by the throat, lifting her off her feet with startling ease. The other hand slammed into the wall beside the woman, creating an almost deafening impact that reverberated through the room.

Enchantress's eyes widened in surprise, but there was no fear—at least, not yet. The intoxicating confidence still lingered on her lips, though it was now laced with caution. She gasped for air, struggling slightly as Sevika's grip tightened.

"You think I'm here for your games?" Sevika growled, her voice a low, guttural threat. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against Enchantress's ear. "You owe Silco, and you owe me. You'll give me that intel. Or so help me, I'll make sure you never have the luxury of ignoring me again."

Enchantress's usual defiant smirk faltered for just a second, her fingers brushing against Sevika's hand in a futile attempt to pry her off, but the grip was unyielding.

"Sevika..." Enchantress rasped, her voice strained, "You're hurting me..."

Sevika's eyes flashed with a dark promise. "Good. Maybe it'll remind you who's in control." She squeezed tighter, feeling the pulse of Enchantress's throat beneath her fingers. "Now talk. What do you know about Silco's plans? What are you hiding?"

Enchantress's gaze flickered, but she remained silent, the defiance still burning in her eyes despite the pressure. Sevika snarled and slammed her harder against the wall, ensuring there was no mistaking the seriousness of her words.

"I don't have time for games anymore. Tell me what I need to know."

This wasn't the first time Enchantress reflected on her life choices. She often found herself in these moments—caught between the pull of regret and the bitter sweet edge of power. She'd made her bed, and now she lay in it. Forced into this life where she had to balance the delicate art of control and submission, playing the game with the people who held power over her. Sometimes, she wondered how she had ended up here, in a life that demanded she give so much of herself in ways she never anticipated.

But in that moment, as Sevika's grip tightened around her throat and the room seemed to shrink around her, something strange stirred within her. The pressure, the danger—it was a familiar dance. She had learned to survive by any means necessary, and now she was fighting for something more.

What was sickening, though, was that she kind of liked it.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒!

Don't be a silent reader! One thing you'll learn is just like Aviva, Enchantress is such a bitch she's just less afraid of letting people know.