Apr 29, 2017
For @crownviper / @sheerwaters, Happy Birthday, Dean! 🎉 🎉
credits: x x x
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For @crownviper / @sheerwaters, Happy Birthday, Dean! 🎉 🎉
credits: x x x
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.
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@sheerwaters
The last sliver of sunlight died behind the hills. Night had fallen.
As the crickets chirped in the darkness, Valathaan could not help but to watch the elf still lying there, dried off and asleep. He was young. Different. There was something to him; his armor, the things he carried, and even his too light hair and skin white as birch--all of it, somehow, echoed something that reached out and brushed the far corners of his memory. An unfamiliar familiarity.
He stirred just as an owl hooted, and Valathaan set his parchment down.
"And so he rises.”
for @crownviper / @sheerwaters i h8 ur face happy birthday u butt
Scarred hands move up to his face, cupping his jaw for a split second before her body turns to wrap around the side of his body. Even with her eyes closed she can already feel that the sun creeping from the middle of the half closed shutters. Her hand only moves from his face to scratch her own face, moving up to the scarred scalp and short hair, this before her face buries itself on the side of his body, between the white sheets and his skin. She stays there for a few moments, deep breathes taken as short nails dig gently into his arm only to feel his body shift with a displeased groan. If she really tried to focus her half-asleep mind she could almost imagine how his short, grey hair looked in the rising sun. She didn’t even have to focus a whole lot to imagine the displeased expression as he turned towards her. Her face, now instead of resting against his arm rested against a soft beating heart.
It was perhaps an alien sensation, to think that either of their hearts was able to beat so slowly without the panic that perhaps their time was coming to an end. The priestess liked to think that they would both die, when it came to be, with their hearts racing and adrenaline playing the drums on their ears. Other’s perhaps might think the thought too grim.
Warm hands rest against her waste pulling her closer and the only thing that she can do is give into the relaxed sigh that leaves through her nose. She can hear the tiny puppy paws running outside of the bedroom from one side to the other. Head tilts up and she lets her black eyes open only slightly as teeth bite his chin gently.
“Happy birthday, Commander.” her voice is hoarse, barely audible and perhaps he had even missed it but considering how light their sleep was, she highly doubted it. She feels his hands pull her closer and a small smile forms on her lips.
The first thing that Roche probably would notice is a paper on top of his phone, Manala’s handwriting is far prettier than that of the priestess’.
Happy birthday, hope you like your new case cover for your phone. If not... Well... Good luck! Manala ❤︎
His case cover is covered in small stickers of cute animals, cupcakes, hearts and butterflies. Some of them are shiny and glittery while the others simply have the brightest colours. There are also some things glued to it, like a small rabbit heat with small laces sprinkled around.
Humans knew of the notorious attack of Beauclair in Toussaint. Rumors spread, embers spreading and after the death of the infamous Beast of Beauclair, one stood in the midst of corpses and bloodshed to take the lingering, leaderless pack and free them from shame to endure an eternity of ethical discrimination. That's what a good ALPHA would do. A leader embarks and sacrifices for the safety and sake of his family. No. This one was different from the rest and was in the midst of grieving for the Beast of Beauclair. Ensuring his ability to lead two Bruxae had recently challenged him. Claw and fang and bone bared as the battle ensued, a perfect mirror of Beauclair, that night, the forest drowning in sweet, sour essence as HE stood above them, panting, blood drenched and ALONE. Or so he thought. The Vampyre's ears twitch to his left and, still in a bad mood, releases a growl akin to a WOLF--- "If you value your LIFE, come out NOW."
--- @sheerwaters liked for a starter !
@sheerwaters
❝ —Wait, please don’t fire that arrow ! You’ll hit Calder. ❞ Quickly the young imperial advances and scoops up the fox in the archer’s line of sight, cradling him close to her chest. ❝ He’s my friend. I thought I lost him, we got separated and….❞ Overwhelmed she buries her face into the creatures fur, silently fighting back tears. She wasn’t sure where she was, or how far she’d strayed from the path home, all that mattered at present was her friend’s well being.
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.
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@sheerwaters
Fingers quiver, lifting carefully stored pieces of meat out of their snug place inside a bag. One hand is on the rope keeping the bag secured to the tree, the other rummaging inside, attempting to gather as much as her small hand will hold, taking meat and bread over fruits. A brick of shame weighs heavy in her stomach, but it’s the same stomach that has been begging for anything other than fruit for days, and Kat isn’t exactly a skilled hunter. There’s a bag full of freshly picked apples and plums slung over one of the high branches close to her, rinsed clean in a stream and ready to be swapped out with what she’s taking. Stealing. Not a fair trade, but all she has to offer.
The person who so carefully stored his food is asleep so dangerously close to her that Kat can’t help but shake. She is too frightened of making too much noise to untie the bag strung up in the tree, so she’s balancing its weight on her thighs as she floats. The wind nips at her bare legs, sending chills through her entire body just as she digs three apples out of her own bag. Her arm bends awkwardly and before she knows it, two apples slip from her frozen fingers, landing on the branches below her with heavy thumps, rustling their leaves and causing birds to scatter. The third apple falls as Kat slaps her hands over her mouth, frozen, the bag of food still open in her lap. Her eyes close on their own accord and Kat prays to anyone that the man sleeping mere feet from her is an exceptionally heavy sleeper. She knows he won’t be, but a girl can hope.