"Kneel."

The werewolf did as he was bade, silently and without hesitation. No sooner had his knees touched the ground than the inscription carved into the stone began to glow an icy blue. The ritual circle gradually illuminating until it quietly began to hum with ambient magical energy.

Crouching down before the kneeling figure, Murchadh lifted the bowl in his free hand. Dyer's woad, juniper berries and sprigs of holly mixed together into a thick paste bound together with the captured breath of a northern wind. Dipping the fingers of his right hand into it, he felt it tingle against his grey skin. His touch infusing it with an added trace of winter's aspect. Reaching out, with a sly smile the unseelie seal began to trace flowing wavelike patterns across the lycanthrope's snowy white pelt. The perfect canvass on which to paint.

As his fingers moved along the ears, choosing on a whim to start with them, he observed the werewolf's blank expression twitch for a moment. It was nothing to be concerned about. The vacancy in the man's eyes betrayed the state of his mind, it's pages every bit as blank as his fur. It had not always been so. In fact, just a few nights prior the wolf had been a creature of fiery orange. His name had been Lev, and he had been as loud as a roaring flame even in human guise. Impossible to miss even in the crowded hall of a busy tavern late at night. Initially the man's blazing personality and penchant for causing a racket had been quite off-putting to the selkie's icy demeanour.

But, as if sensing an opportunity for mischief, he had approached all the same. Introducing himself to Lev and plying him for information by paying for his drinks. It took some finesse, but eventually the werewolf confessed the reason behind his bluster. He was blowing off steam due to disagreements with his current employment. With neither talking nor fighting seeming like acceptable avenues to resolve his discomfort with the working environment, he was left feeling trapped. Venting his bottled up emotions elsewhere whenever he could, often in a manner hazardous to the eardrums of anyone nearby.

"I'm sorry you've found yourself dealing with such a plight."

"Itsssokay, m'pretty much used to it by now..."

Several flagons in, the werewolf's speech was slurring. The seal himself having elected to remain sober and watchful.

"Do you ever find yourself wishing that you had a different employer?"

"Hehehe...! I guesssometimes yeah, I wish!"

Murchadh grinned. It was the moment he'd been waiting for, guiding the werewolf towards all night.

"A wish easily granted."

He snapped his fingers. The magic latching on to the wish carelessly spoken aloud.

"Eh? What do you meaaaaaanI- uuuuuuh!?"

Lev had straightened up sharply in his seat, a shudder running through him that made his fur stand on end. His fingers shook, trying to find grasp on the table as blue light lit up his eyes. A spiral starting to form in the left one. He tried blinking rapidly, as if to make it go away- but it kept spinning faster and faster, rapidly expanding to engulf the entire radius of the eye. Startled, confused, aware that something magical was afoot but slow to react due to his drunken state, the werewolf put up a valiant last stand. But slowly his right eye too had started to fill with spirals. His shoulders had slumped, jaw falling open and drool running down his chin... within moment, it was over. The zonked werewolf sitting at the table with a blank expression, chest heaving as he breathed in and out.

"Your troubles are over now Lev. From now on, you'll serve a new master."

And that was how they'd come to be down in the cavern. Basking in the ritual circle's light as he painted the mindless beast's pelt with lines of blue.

He'd bleached out the vulgar colour of the werewolf's former pelt with his magic, remaking it into a snowy white more befitting of a member of his court. He'd added on to the man's name, making Lewin out of Lev, using the power of naming magic to give the wolf a new name and thus a new destiny. With the woad now staining the brute's fur, he was writing out the equivalent of a magical contract. Binding the overgrown pup to his service for the next year. After that period the magic would wear off, restoring a measure of lucidity to Lewin and allowing him a chance to escape the fey's enchantment over him.

If on the other hand he enjoyed serving the seal... as the subtle, slow wagging of the tail behind him seemed to indicate while Murchadh's fingers were tracing lines across his pectorals? Well, there was always the chance to renegotiate, extend the contract to last longer. Much longer.

*****

Fey recruitment strategies are seldom as simple as putting up a poster asking for hired help.

A wonderful piece from Carduelis featuring Jakold as a wolf whose wish for a career change reached the wrong (or right?) set of ears!