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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
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
No, she could not rest here. Rose lifted herself off the hard ground, growling out a word not even she herself could make out. It was most likely an order, as she'd grown up with the habit of telling herself to do things like a mother would. Get up for school, we'll be late. Don't bother with two bowls, you'll get sick. Don't run, it's raining, Rose. She'd done it for as long as she could remember, in the absence of a mother who would usually tell her to do these things. Always with a "we" or a "you".
But now her speech to herself was garbled, her original intentions nearly forgotten, the natural will to survive reminding her what to do now. She stood up, not shakily, but slowly. The world was moving, rotating and vibrating.
The vibrations rattled the black and white tiles that made up the landscape, cracking them and lifting them out of place. The tiles shattered completely in specific spots, forming a line which led up to the main feature of the landscape, a huge black cloud descending from the greyed heavens. Rose stood there, motionless if not for the vibrating, watching the cloud.
She remembered the very first time she'd seen it, six years previous, during a storm. That was the year when her mother had made her most successfully attempt to date to quick drinking, and they vacationed at the beach. Late at night, Jaspers, Rose's lovely cat, refused to sleep. He yowled and scratched at the door while a storm brew, and little innocent Rose left the safety of the beach house to watch the storm.
The cloud formations she saw that night did not leave her the drive home, nor the night after. The cloud moved, from the sky to her dreaming mind, and it hadn't left her alone since.
That was okay, though. It gave her something to figure out. It gave her purpose, so she'd accepted it wholeheartedly. At least, up until recently, when the vibrations of the overcast world had become more intense, and she'd started sleeping through her alarm. The vibrations made her feel sick. She crossed her arms around her waist, swaying a little.
She realized she would awake soon, and realizing that made her feel somewhat aware again. She swallowed hard, and blinked at the cloud centrepiece of the shitstorm. Maybe, Rose considered, if she got closer. She grabbed the waist of the exceedingly long dress she wore and lifted it so she wouldn't trip as she walked. This dream had ended far too many times because she'd tripped over herself, and she refused to let it end so stupidly again. This time around, Rose made a decision.
It would not end, this dream, until she'd seen what was descending from the sky herself. The question of what it could be was one her books of the forbidden Gods could not answer, and one that occurred and re-occurred to her periodically, due to her nature. When it first started, she was young enough that she told herself it was like the monsters other children thought were under their beds or in their closets. When she met John, she started to wonder if it wasn't the corpse of her cat falling into her dream like he'd fallen into the ocean during that fateful vacation. When John's cousin, Jade, spoke about her Grandfather's shrine and the golden kingdom where everyone prospered, she wondered if it was a bottle, symbolic of Mother's habit. Now, so much closer to it than she'd ever been, she wondered if it was Mother herself. The thing that was haunting her, shrouded in black smoke, shaking the world before it even touch down, it looked human. It was definitely human. It was definitely a woman. The figure, previously something, was someone. Even with everything shaking, rotating slowly and trying to knock Rose off her feet, and even with shadows draped across the landscape, she could make out who it was. The name, Rose intended to say out loud in suprise. But the letters jumbled together and her voice distorted, making a horrible noise that shocked Rose even more than seeing her older self in a recurring dream.
She covered her hand with her mouth, but she couldn't stop it, the words flowed out on black sludge, and the landscape echoed the gibberish. She lost her drive and began to feel very sick, so very sick and fragile and frightened. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to be back at the beach, holding Jaspers, but this time not letting him go, not going outside. She wished she'd never read a single tome of Gothic lore, and she wished she hadn't inherited The Void.
She wrapped her arms around her waist, sitting down. She faced away from the center, away from the realization that it was her, her along. She had been doing it to herself this whole time. She wished to wake up, but dawn wouldn't come. The alarm wouldn't reach through the static and remind her of reality.
-------
Jade grinned, leaning over the cafeteria table. "And then," she said, "I jammed out! I'm the greatest bass player on Prospit!"
John smiled. "You need to start praticing over here, too. I want to hear you play."
He always had humored Jade when she talked about her dreaming world. It made her happy, and it didn't hurt anyone, so why try to change her like everyone else did? Dave was humoring her too. He sat at the end of the table, watching Jade recall what she did last night through his dark glasses.
"Yeah," Dave agreed, nodding. "Be pretty cool if you could buy a double-head bass in real life and learn to play that."
Jade stopped. She glared at Dave. "Prospit IS real life!" She said, offended. Dave shifted on his seat.
He hadn't really been sure how to come back from slipping up and implying Prospit was imaginary, but he managed to pull an apology out.
"You know that's not what I meant. Sorry."
Jade still glared at him for a few more seconds, then turned her attention to the lunch on her tray. John and Dave did the same.
"...Hey, Dave?" John asked, looking up at the clock after finishing his sandwich.
"Hm?" Dave grunted a reply from deep inside his apple juice bottle, where the coolkid was mining for cores of flavor.
"Where's Rose at?"
"Oh. I dunno," Dave remarked, putting the empty bottle down. "Oh YEAH, I was gonna ask you guys where she was." Said Jade, stabbing inderminate lunch meat with a spoon. "Doesn't she usually come in with you, John?"
"Yeah, but today she wasn't where we normally see each other when lunch started, so I thought she would be with Dave."
"Unless she's hiding in my back pack or some dumb shit, I don't have any idea," Dave said.
----
Get to art class, Rose. Hurry up. Don't miss anymore classes today, or they'll be so worried your lies will stop holding off their suspicions. Don't trip, Rose. Don't make eye contact with the wizard boy so he can talk your ear off again. Don't choke. There were easels in the art room. Usually, there were just normal desks, with all the actual art suplies boxed up in the corner, when art HISTORY was taught, by a completely different teacher.
Rose scolded herself in her head for prying deeper into her dream and trapping herself there long enough to make her miss the history part. There was a test. And she would've got every answer right, if she was there. Rose never got much of anything right in actual art MAKING. The concept was flawed. The art teacher's curriculum and idea of what makes a piece art was flawed.
They were using watercolor today. Rose swallowed hard, combating a sudden slight nausea. It went away soon enough, as she distracted herself in dripping black and bright green on her canvas. Bright green, she thought to herself, like Jade's favorite color. Rose thought about Jade quite a lot during her creation of this piece.
It was Jade's description of her magical dog, Bequerel, that turned the drips into a canine, running across the canvas. It was Jade's favorite color, and the supposed abilities of her dog that convinced Rose to add the electricity running across the dog. As if it were preparing to attack something, maybe. Charging up it's power to stun a target so it could tear them into bits easier. Rose decided she was finished with her piece before anyone else, and set her painbrush in the water cup before taking a half step back to admire her work.
This was unlike anything she had ever done before, a painting she was sure would shut that art teacher up about her works being "too grim". And it did.
The teacher smiled and congratulated Rose on improving with her use of color, and her juxtopation. Rose smiled, more out of a sense of proving the teacher wrong than any happiness at "improving". Ha, improving. The things she did before were even better. This one, though, did have something about it, similar to the feeling of realization when one thinks they've written a song only to realize they were remembering an old hit. Rose's smile faded.
The art teacher put his hand on her shoulder, pointing at the green touches that "made it all PERFECT". A disturbed feeling began rising in Rose's chest. She looked at her painting, at the old acrylics works on the wall, at her fellow student.
Eridan Ampora was the student who ended up next to her. He enjoyed pretending he was a wizard and calling himself a scientist.
Rose had made an effort to avoid looking at him, but then, the look on his face gave her a strange comfort. He looked terrified, as if he knew the secret too. Rose moved her teacher's hand from her shoulder and grabbed the still wet painting. She took it, and stepped past all the easels, to the front of the classroom. And began tearing it into pieces. The occursed mascot had to be destroyed.
