The Enchantress

John blinked rapidly as he entered the building, following Velvet. Slowly, his eyes adjusted from the bright glare of the sun outside to the dim lighting within. He took a look around and slowly followed after the trio of girls. He lacked the knowledge about magic to be able to recognise exactly what it was that he was looking at - what that device with the strange metal rods did, why there was an oddly positioned polished rock in the middle of that table, and such - but at the very least, he could tell that this was a workshop.

It was a workshop unlike any John had ever seen, however. Everywhere he looked felt like a study in dichotomy. On one work-table was an intricately crafted hollow glass chamber of some kind, which seemed to have no seams or crafting marks, yet literally glowed with magic and had a carved figurine floating within it. Then, right beside that piece of obviously magical equipment, there was a basic pillar drill, as if it had been ripped right out of John’s woodwork class. Everywhere he looked was the same, a sharp contrast between magical instrument and mundane tool.

Beyond that… They say that the workplace of a person is a reflection of their mind, right? As John looked at the little details in the space, he thought that he came to see something about the owner. He was no psychoanalyst, by any stretch, but still - he thought he had a bit of insight into it. The way the tools were stored, for example. Each tool had a place he could see, but the ones that saw frequent use were left where they were last used, and the storage spot for them seemed relatively untouched. The worktables themselves had no noticeable significant problems to them, yet were covered in shavings and offcuts of materials.

There were several half-completed projects too. John definitely wasn’t familiar enough with the Abyss yet to be able to discern exactly what made it special, but he’d played enough tabletops and fantasy games to be able to recognise a goddamned warhammer when he saw one. Not just a warhammer, but one absolutely covered in glowing, pulsating, multi-coloured runes. It reminded him of the glimpse he’d seen in the mana factory, just before blacking out, of Moira in her full Warden regalia, and the hammer she’d wielded. He shook his head, pushing that away and moving on.

His exploration through the impressive, if peculiar, workshop was interrupted when there was an ear-shatteringly high pitched noise that John could only describe as a ‘squee’. In the brief moment before the source of the ‘squee’ came into sight, his brain slowly tried to discern the bullet train of words that had built up to the ‘squee’. He failed, however, as a purple blur exploded into the waif-like blind brunette in front of him, and the source of the ‘squee’ became apparent.

After a brief tornado of sparkling gold, unnaturally purple hair mixing with Velvet’s darker shades, and flapping denim from Velvet’s jacket, the pair stopped, and John was able to get a better look at the natural disaster that had just befallen his new… friend. That’s all he knew she was, right? He shouldn’t get his hopes up. So what if she’d kissed him? Girls kissed each other all the time, and that wasn’t romantic, was it?!

That’s so not the same thing, and you know it, buddy.

John scowled for a moment at the message that had appeared, having forgotten that there was a goddess living rent free in his head who apparently liked to make commentary.
Choosing to ignore the hopeful thoughts that sprang up now that his attempts to curb that enthusiasm had been dashed by the interfering goddess, he took a moment to look at this new person who had just almost tackled Velvet to the ground in excitement.

She was side-on to him, at the moment, but he could still see enough of her to get a good look. The most immediately noticeable thing about the woman, for John at least, was undoubtedly the giant hat she wore.

It wasn’t often that you saw someone wearing an honest-to-god witch hat that was larger in circumference than a basketball. The only word that John could think of to describe it was ‘magical’, which wasn’t all that useful, recent events considered. There were multiple shades of purple on it, and as he looked, the edges of each shade seemed to shimmer and shift under his eyes, creating an illusion of an impossibly smooth colour shift.

Scattered across the fabric of the hat were sharp, metallic four-pointed star shapes that glittered with every micromovement as they caught the light. Similarly, on the band of the hat sat a large, deep red gemstone, rimmed in gold, with an emblem somehow attached to the top of it which depicted a stylised sun, to match the one of the moon that hugged the curve of the gemstone.

He caught a glimpse of the underside of the hat, which was a dark burgundy colour, with an intricate and strange, yet beautiful, pattern etched into it. The whole headwear was so large that it had a slight, yet noticeable, droop to the edges.

John dragged his eyes away from the impressive hat, and actually looked at the woman beneath it. Twintails in an unnaturally beautiful shade of purple hair swung down to her waist, capped in some kind of accessory made of carved and inscribed gold, each with a small four-pointed star shape on the very end.

Her outfit, such as it was, matched her hat for its materials and design, with the strangely shifting colour boundaries and the impossibly smooth-looking fabrics. A pair of gloves graced her arms, reaching halfway up her upper arm, and had panels of semi-rigid fabric on them which resembled armour plating. Her shoulders had similar panels on them, which were actual pauldrons made of cloth, and joined to some kind of small shawl the woman wore over her collarbone, out of which a medallion emerged, and sat on her chest.

On her thigh was some kind of… bracelet-ring thing? It was some kind of golden band thing wrapped around the entirety of her left thigh in a slight downwards spiral, so that the ends couldn’t meet. Her legs were covered in a barely translucent pair of black tights which shimmered ever so slightly when you looked at them, as if they were twinkling like starlight. Joined to the tights was the centrepiece of the whole outfit: a leotard, made of the same fabrics as all the rest, but hugging her figure tightly, as if hand-crafted and sewn onto her. The vast majority of it was that same shifting purple, with gold bordering on it, and small four-pointed stars scattered throughout in gold and silver. In the centre was a panel of sheer black fabric, showing her taut stomach if one looked closely. The leotard was cut-out across the upper back, only reaching all the way around her body on the lower back, and stopping where it cupped her breasts at the front, ending with a feathered ruffle of black lace and gold thread.

Which led John to the one thing he’d been trying to avoid - her tits, whilst nothing to scoff at, he could have passed over without too much internal conflict beyond the usual lizard brain ‘see booby, play with booby’ impulse. But her ass…

John considered himself somewhat of a perfectionist, though he didn’t always like it about himself. He always believed that one of the only things certain in life was that there was always room for improvement. In all his school efforts, his gaming endeavours, the few hobbies he picked up along the line - there was always room for improvement, in all areas of life.

For the first time, John couldn’t think of a single way to make what was in front of him better. The ass before him was, though John’s mind protested against the impossibility, perfect. A narrow waist curved outwards wonderfully into a gentle heart shape, large, yet excellently proportioned. It was barely shy of pillowy thickness, yet remained beautifully bubbly. As she bounced, John’s vision seemed to go in slow-motion, following each individual ripple that the jiggling of her jumping set into motion. The cherry on top, all of her glorious derriere was covered in that skin-tight material which was simply begging to be ripped apart so that he could get to what was inside.

He was then unexpectedly graced with the seductive sight of the woman’s abdomen, which, clad as it was in the spandex-like material, presented a clear set of lines where her thighs met her groin, as well as the smooth curve of the crotch itself. Usually, the lack of any clear genitalia wouldn’t have been any cause for interest, but for John at that moment? All he could think of was how alluring it was to know what was there, to be so close to seeing it for himself, and yet have it be so far beyond his reach.

Of course, as soon as he finished considering this wonderful mystery, he realised he was quite literally staring at her crotch, and his eyes snapped upwards to her face so fast that he thought he could hear a rubber-band sound effect.

He moved his eyes away from indecently staring just in time, as she turned her head to face him, from looking at Velvet. Or so John had thought until a smug, triumphant smirk appeared on her face, and she slyly winked at him. “Well, well, well, who’s this you’ve brought into my workshop, Vel? He looks just adorable.” The smugness apparently carried to her tone, as well. “I mean, the Warden and the beautiful blonde eye-candy were plenty treat enough, but then you brought along dessert? Really, Vel, you shouldn’t have!”

By the time she finished, a fierce crimson blush filled three of the five faces in the room, and the only one other than the woman herself that was unaffected was laughing her “beautiful blonde eye-candy” ass off.

Velvet gathered her wits and managed to stammer out, “A-A-Asta! That’s so… so inappropriate!” John noticed that whilst her mouth may have said the words, she sorely lacked the conviction to back them up, and the way that her sightless gaze flicked over to where he stood did not help her case.

“Awhhhhh… well, if you refuse to let me have him, I guess I’ll just have to ask why you’re all here instead. Business had to come up eventually, I suppose.” The cheeky craftswoman took a couple steps back, then put a hand on one hip and cocked it, looking expectantly at each of them in turn, ending with John, where her eyes lingered with what John thought was appreciation, though that raised a whole bunch of other questions for his self-doubt.

Having finally gotten a hold of her laughter, Erica managed to speak up between lingering chuckles, “Vel suggested you as the person to go to for equipment. Said something about a favour, and Mr Dessert over there hasn’t got any gear yet.”

All that did was increase the appraising look in Asta’s eyes as she looked at John, which in turn fed into his nervousness and self-doubt. That lasted as long as it took for Velvet to shove her hand into his and hold herself to his side. “W-When John said that he didn’t have any equipment, I remembered that you owed me for helping with the whole war-axe project you had. So, could you outfit him with some basics, please?”

That much finally drew the purple-haired woman’s attention away from her observation of John. At the mention of the axe, her soft features dropped into a slight frown, and her shoulders drooped. For a brief moment of thoughtfulness, she changed from the confident, self-assured and smug little **** of nature he’d seen so far, and suddenly seemed to lose much of the presence she’d had. “Yeah… I guess you did help with that, didn’t you?”

Velvet seemed to pick up on the shift in mood. “Did something happen, Asta?”

With a literal swirl of magic sparkles, the woman twirled around to face the direction she’d come from. “Ehhh. Not really. Anyways, if you’d all follow me, we can get a start on this!” Her voice was peppy and confident again, almost convincing John that there was truly nothing wrong.

As the group moved to follow the bouncing enchantress, John fell in beside Velvet. Leaning in close to her ear, he was momentarily left wordless by the burst of whatever that berry scent was that surrounded her and exploded from the slightest movement of her hair. He gathered his wits again, and whispered to her, “Something’s up with your friend and that axe that you brought up.”

She moved her blank gaze to his face, surprised. “Yeah, I noticed…” Her speech paused for a moment, and then she nodded once, deciding something. “Would you mind speaking to her with me?”

“...Uh, alright, I guess?” John replied hesitantly. It was strange that she would ask him when he’d never met the woman before today. Any further conversation was cut off, before John could ask about the matter, by their entry into a different room of the workshop where Asta was waiting.

After all the dichotomy of the front-facing section of the workshop, this back room was almost disappointingly average and mundane. Almost entirely empty, the only real decoration in the room was a large, low, flat podium in the centre of the room, and a small lectern-looking plinth of some kind to one side of it.

With another swing of her hips, Asta stopped in front of the lectern and faced them. “Alright. Cutie pie, up on the platform."