Day 10: Scarab [Theft / Lure]

"Now this is fascinating!" The decorated, older man in thick, black moustache said as he took a sip from his flute glass of cognac, "I hear things are quite interesting in the field of antomology!"
"Well, not really I would say..." Emma said before she could decide if she would rather clear her throat as a reply, "And... It's called entomology."
"Really now?" The colonel chuckled, "Oh, I do apologize! I thought we were discussing the study of ants!"
"It... it is that... though... but it's... not..." Emma's voice faded into an inaudible mumble, "Sorry, I've gotta..." And she shuffled away from the company, leaving them to their conversation.

It was true, Dr Emma Kenyon was a bit of a wallflower. Her area of study was something she is very passionate about, but she can't bring herself to share her knowledge and passion with others even when prompted.
She was a woman comfortable with her own company. Having to go to one of these museum fundraisers, make connections and be friendly with people wasn't exactly something she looked forward to. Had she a choice she would probably skip it, spend the night with her bedbugs and study their behaviour and ecology.

And yet... there was something to look forward to here.

She looked towards a tall, broad-shouldered man talking to a group of people on the other side of the room. That was Dr Herbert Skon, the researcher with whom she had been collaborating for the past few years; and the only person she had talked to for a long time with whom she had an easy time opening up. Even when she really didn't feel like talking, being near him was enough to light up her day.
There was only one problem though; they were from completely different worlds. Not just a marine biologist, he was a scientist, explorer and diplomat, someone looked on as a hero.
A legend.

So many people looked up to him, and relied on him for leadership and guidance.
And she... she was the shy little wallflower who didn't even know how to speak.
She wanted so much to tell Dr Skon how she felt, but... no matter how easy it was to talk to him... it felt like there was an ocean between herself and where she needed to be in order to be comfortable saying that. And when she tried to make herself, or imagined herself doing that, it felt like drowning.
Emma smutted the wine from the glass she was holding. Her eyes darted towards the grayish-green door on the opposite end of the corridor. No one in the party was there. No one had been there for months, or even years by the look of it.
She had seen that door before. She had seen it in her dreams. That dream she had every night for the past two months now, where she follows a scarab beetle until it crawls under this door, but she can't open it.

It was definitely this door though. She walked towards it and turned the knob. Unlike in her dream however, it opened and when Emma stepped inside she found herself in an old stock-room where rows upon rows of strange artefacts from before the days of the current Demon Lord.
At the end of the corridor and the center of the floor stood a single longsword of red and black resting on a podium where it was supported by the quillons. At the center of the crossguard was the black symbol of a scarab, just like the one Emma saw in her dream.
While not someone too interested in weapons, this blade was something Emma found very compelling. Intriguing. It looked particularly threatening, precisely the kind of trait that would revulse Emma more than anything, yet this only made her drawn to the sword. Perhaps because her profession and passion was that of an entomologist, who studies bugs.
Whatever the case may have been, Emma couldn't help herself but to reach for the hilt of the sword.

The moment her finger touched the grip, a violet flash of light appeared before her eyes, and before she knew it the podium was cast aside, and she was holding the blade in her hand. She tried to let go of it but couldn't. Nor could she move in any other way.
She wanted to scream, but her mouth wouldn't move either. That made her want to scream harder, and as far as she was concerned she was screaming in her mind.
[Geez! Keep your panties on, will you?] Someone said... no, they weren't words in her ears. It was more like she was compelled to think these words in her mind, and they were spoken to her in a coarse yet feminine voice, [Though really, I suppose that's really up to me now, huh?]
[Hello?] Emma sent herself that thought, in the hopes that whatever communicated with her using her own mind would reply. She felt a bit silly doing that, until the voice actually responded.
[Sup?]
For just a moment Emma's mind turned foggy. Someone was there; inside her mind, talking to her... talking directly to her mind.
[Hey...] The number of questions swarmed around her mind like mosquitoes, but one concern right now outweighed all of them, [Why can't I move my body?]
[Oh... yeah, I'm borrowing it for a bit. Just for a moment, kay?]
[Borrowing..?]
[Yeah, okay. I'm stealing your body. Call it body theft, I don't care. You'll get your body back once I've had a... chat with your old fling Herb.] Emma could feel the sword trembling in her hand.
[...Herb? ...what do you want with mr Skon?]
[What do I want? What does he want with the future of monsters and humans!? We're monsters! Not wives! Not whores! Monsters! Where are the days when we feasted on the flesh of humans as we devoured them? No! I'm putting a stop to it! And I'm putting a stop to Herbert Skon's so-called peace talks!]
[What? You're a monster!?]
[Hah! That's right! A proper monster! From before the age of the current Demon Lord! When we had pride in what we did! When we had a true purpose! And while that purpose may have been deprived from monster-kind when that Succubus took the throne, it was never taken away from me!]
[...you are not laying a finger on him... I won't let you.]
[And you're gonna stop me how? If you haven't noticed, you can't exactly use your body now!]

Emma could only glare through her own eyes as she watched the unnatural movements of this body thief dragging the blade behind herself. The moment her body stepped out of this wardrobe, lugging this huge sword around, she would definitely alert the museum staff something was wrong. At worst she would be charged with museum theft, and probably fired. At worst she would have the Order inquisition on her tail.
Just as Emma thought this to herself, her body used the sword to cut the air, and it snapped into itself. Soon the large metal blade had folded into a neat little glove of pointy black metal around her hand. She used one of the claws in order to undo one of the buttons on her blouse, and then another.
[Now this... this is a lure.] The sword spirit told Emma smugly, [Honestly, you had everything you needed to snag him up whenever you wanted. Was there something... enticing about admiring him from afar? Or is that just the way chicken shits like you roll?]
[I... what? What is it you're going to do!?]
[What you should've done long ago. Do you think you're here by chance? That anyone could've done it any time? Sweetie, no. I picked you. You are the perfect lure for him to set into my trap. For some reason he cares for you, and boy am I gonna take advantage of that!] The gloved hand trembled in anticipation.

[Stop it! Stop! You are not going to lay a finger on Dr Skon! I won't let you! No!] With all her strength, all her effort, Emma focused on rejecting this monster and taking control back over her body. But there seemed to be nothing she could do. Just wanting to break the curse wasn't enough to break it.
Emma was never one to fully believe in mind over matter, yet this failing of hers to make her own body even flinch with her greatest effort was disheartening to say the least.
The sword spirit wrapped the gloved hand in bandage, concealing it under the guise of an injury. She undid her tied up hair, then walked outside with the brisk gait of a confident, beautiful woman.
Classical dance music from the local band resounded throughout the great hall when Emma's body once again entered the stage. The guests had paired up and occupied the floor with a dance together.
Skon constituted none of these dance couples. He instead found himself seated on the outskirts of the table, enjoying the spectacle of all these dozens of people prancing around the dance floor to the rhythm of the music.
The sword spirit walked up to him and shot the doctor a smile, "Why hello, there, Herb. What a travesty that on a night such as this, someone of your ilk would find no partner to speak of."
Dr Skon chuckled, "It is not by incident that I am confined to the outlines of this party. I am simply sparing this company the disaster that is my attempt at dancing."
The sword spirit recognized that he simply didn't have any interest in the suitors up until then, "So you say. And yet I have looked forward to dancing all evening. Would it not be equally much a disaster if I was deprived of this opportunity after all anticipation? Which disaster, I wonder, is it that you will save?" She extended her bandaged hand, upon which Dr Skon beheld, before looking up at her concerned.

"Why Dr Kenyon," Dr Skon said, "What happened to your hand?"
"Nothing of consequence," The sword spirit lied boldly, "I was bitten by a nasty bug, and had an allergic reaction."
Dr Skon was perplexed on hearing this, "One can scarcely believe an entomologist of your rank would ever allow herself to be bitten, if she had an allergy of such severity."
"I'm afraid you simply have to believe me, Herb." The sword spirit doubled down on her lie without flinching, "Sometimes these things happen. Even after all my study I don't know how to control the bugs or where they bite."
"Be that as it may, my conscience simply forbids me from treating a woman of your condition to a dance. Unless of course you will permit me to take a look at your hand first."
Emma could feel her face contracting to a mischievous grin, "You may, Herb. But I will hold you to that promise."
"Then let's go somewhere private, where I may take a look at your hand."

[Finally...] The hand trembled as Dr Skon led her away, [Once we are alone, I will deal with him once and for all... cutting him down as I look down on him, and...] Her hand trembled stronger.
[Does it excite you so much? The thought of cutting him down?] Emma sent the thought to the sword spirit.
[More than anything could excite a mere human. You have no idea...] The hand trembled once again.
[You... wish the steel to bite down on his flesh? Is that it? For the blade to dig into his body and twist as he lies limp on the floor?] Emma sent these thoughts to the sword spirit, an the hand twitched uncontrollably.
[MMmmph.... stop it...]
[What? Does the image of defeating and dominating a strong opponent not please you? To make him taste the metal of your weapon, and know that you are his victor...] Emma had an idea on what she could do now, and indeed her words enticed more erratic trembling.
[Stop it now! Stop it!] Emma could tell that the sword spirit's mind was swimming in lewd, sadistic thoughts of fighting her sworn enemy.
[...that you are his conqueror.]

SNAP!