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i'm feeling your vibing, i'm riding high, it's exotic
and I want you, i want you here
pull me closer and closer and hold me tight to your body
i wanna feel you, i wanna feel you near
The islands were scattered across the coasts, some no larger than a cottage, others expansive enough for prisons. They were all tainted, each carrying a strain of old magic, of forgotten monsters that had sank into the common memory to become folktale and campfire spook. Across the water, the Drust lingered in shadows, and spoke in their incomprehensible riddles, and they cursed and blighted the mainland... but on the islands, there was more freedoms, far from the humans.
The remains of the coven were scattered around their camp; wicker and wool buildings burned, while others smoldered. Bones, blackened and charred filled the bonfire, and in the shade of the trees whispers replaced the chanting and cackling.
At the heart of the once-filled cavern, Dasia stood before the icon. Blue flames flickered around the antler-and-bone haloed skull, the air cool and wet despite the scorched walls. Her feet were coated in ash, and blood, and her long hair was loose around her shoulders, bare from toes to crown, skin covered in ancient runes. "The deal," She purred. "Is made."
Where hearts had rested on the altar, now there was just the memory of ichor and herbs.
Turning, she left the cavern into the low light, and with a delicious shiver reached for her robe. She had brought nothing but herself, as the Drust witches had asked.
They did not know what they would get.
With a tremor, she felt the call again-- Karsteth. A smile cut across her blooded lips, and she stepped into the spanse of a treeshadow, and disappeared, following his summons.
As soon as Karsteth’s boots hit the surf, he knew she heard him. He allowed his men the privilege if taking up the longboat and securing it. They knew how to make camp. They didn’t need his guidance to do so, and Vinny knew he had business elsewhere. With a small sack at his side, he trudged up the beach and into the thick woods of the isle.
He did not bother shouting her name aloud this time. The witch knew. She always did. His presence was call enough; and the presence of the thing at his side. He knew she’d come to lay claim on it, whether he bellowed her name or not.
And so when he reached a clearing within the trees, a stump perfect for a table and bathed in moonlight, he set the sack down and waited. He waited for her shadow to slip through the trees, and he did so in silence.
She appeared in a whirl of shadows; they skittered uneasily around her, natural things born of treeshade and the lees of stone. She made them real, and so unnatural, and it was all from vanity. Drunk on her deals, drunk on power, she stepped into the clearing in only the robe of feathers, linen and skin-soft hide.
"My Captain," she breathed, eyes wild and kaleidoscopic. "You have it." There was no question in her, and on bare feet she approached him. The shadows fled as she was cast into the moonlight, and her unnaturalness seemed to diminish some, in the pure light of the twin orbs.
He stood near, but not too close and not too far. He watched Dasia as though she was liquid pouring out of the trees and earth itself. He kept his gaze on her as she made her way closer. With a nod, he gestured towards the sack.
"Aye, I got it. Doesn't look much like an eye, but it glowed as ye said."
He noted the wild look in her eyes and squinted slightly.
"Why's this so important to ye?"
Drunk on power and promise, Dasia laughed merrily and clapped her hands together. "Oh, what a delight. It was of course easy for you, what could the Nightmare offer for you to fear?" Nothing, the word whispered through winds that caught in her loose hair. Nothing to fear from nightmare...
Stepping closer, she reached towards the sack. "Ohhh there we are." She did not make to answer. "You wished to be unseen, and you found me what I needed; what the nightmare makes of an pure, untainted eye. However did I accomplish anything without you," She breathed the last, finally turning her gaze back to meet his eyes, lips parted with delight.
Karsteth watched Dasia closely. There was a twitch, a want to grab her arm before she grabbed the sack without payment first, but they knew each other well enough, and he had nothing to fear from her - rather, she had everything to fear from him. She knew what happened when he was double crossed.
"Ye probably got some other fucks to do yer biddin' but they didn't do a good enough job."
Her laughter was true at his words, and she took the sack greedily, not even stepping back while she opened it to discover-- a clasp, a feather, a shimmer of metal. Whatever it looked like, as soon as her fingers brushed it, she knew.
She knew.
"You never disappoint, sweetest." The words were not meant for Karsteth; her thumb stroked the shimmering center, and the object in her hand changed; a rotted eye, for a moment, then, a small heart the size of a birds, and then again the brooch. Greed, striking and raw, showed in Dasia's features, and it remained as she brought her gaze up to Karsteth.
The item shimmered and vanished in her hands, but that was because she needed them both. As though desperate, she slid her hands to Karsteth's jaw and pulled his face to hers, pressing her lips to his in a searing, hungry kiss. Magic swelled between them, something infinite and dark, and it seemed to flow from her into him, catching where mouths parted and sinking into him.
He could feel it; it was like a cloak, a heavy but comfortable weight. One he could remove-- the edges where there in his mind, he could see the shape of the magic she gave him.
Her hands only dropped from his face to take his hand, and from her fingers to his she slid a ring; wooden, etched with black onyx and what seemed living smoke. Hiding, made physical and real.
Karsteth squinted at the lack of an answer to his initial question, but he did not resist when he felt her hands, both so cold and yet so hot they burned. He did not resist when the kiss was placed hungrily against him. He was caught off guard, but not unpleasantly so. His shoulders stiffened and then laxed at the heavy cloak placed upon his shoulders.
She pulled away and he lingered, if only for a moment. But then his gaze dropped to his rough and calloused hands. The ring she gave him was crude at first glance, but then he caught a wisp of black, a glimmer of a black ember. It was more than meets the eye, and without her telling him, he knew what it could do. It was more than what they had bargained for. He asked to be hidden, yet this would give more.
His mismatched gaze flicked to Dasia's own and he reached behind her to grab hold a generous mass of her hair. He held her tightly and pulled her forward, lowering his mouth to crash against hers. It was another kiss, twice as hungry and twice as hard.
She met his ferocity with her own, feeding into his desire; she would capitulate to his passion only because it was delicious when he was the victor, the raw and violent power of him. Dasia only shifted to breathe him in, lips dragging over his scarred cheekbone as she whispered.
Like a spell, the words revealed her works, and this gift-- a true gift, with no price or deal. "Unseen to all but her, you can make her suffer as she has earned, as she was made to." No other had she granted such favors; no other had fathered more than one son. But Karsteth bled power, thoughts and mind shaped ruthless and cut-throat; he had been more valuable than hundreds of her other petitioners, the fools that took her deals.
Karsteth was worthy, had brought back the one hope she thought lost, and this gift would not be her last; oh no. "Her death and misery shall be your crucible; I promise this blessing to you, Captain Dusktide." Her whisper in his ear was thick as her dark, ash-stained hands slid over his chest.
"Break her, kill her, and keep her heart; so long as you bear that withered phoenix' spark, you shall never die."
Dasia spoke of suffering at first, and truly, the thought of that red haired bitch - with her defiant gaze and face that was so much like her mother's -...the thought of her under his boot once more, suffering, terrified, and trapped. He felt heat rise in his belly, his gaze gripping Dasia's hair even harder at the thought.
Oh, he would break her. Oh, he would kill her. And if the witch was telling him to keep her heart in exchange for that....
He brought down a hard kiss against Dasia's lips once more and shoved her back against the tree stump. He tasted of whiskey, power, lust, and hatred. He pulled from the kiss with a bite that nearly drew blood from Dasia and growled with a low voice, rough with gravel.
"Our deal is fuckin' settled then."
She smiled, feeling the shape of the eye between her fingers. "Our deals are settled. Enjoy your gifts." Dasia slid arms around him, pulled him closer, shadows rising to strain against the moonlight. "My Captain." He would see, and be unseen; a blessing offered, but not without recompense. No, she would make sure he left her with blessings of her own.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
