Valcyis had, like Surina, taken to sleeping shirtless. Sometimes she even slept nude—which, if Surina had learned anything about her partner, was as much an invitation for Surina to sleep nude as much as it was Valcyis showing how comfortable she had become.
Surina watched her sleep. White changed depending on its surroundings and Valcyis’ scales were no different—sometimes they were white as crisp, clean linen, or bright as virgin snow. Other times they were infused with the colours of her surroundings; blue of winter, or pink and lavender with sunset. It reminded Surina of snow-capped mountains, of starlight, of the landscapes of home.
Valcyis was her home away from home, resting safely in the fortress of her heart.
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
“Valcyis,” Surina started, rising from her bag, “have you seen my tunic?”
“About that.” Valcyis struck a pose, clad in the very shirt Surina searched for. It was black and too wide in the shoulders and chest, revealing more collar and hanging loosely around the waist. She must’ve purloined it while Surina slept in. “I saw it and thought, maybe I should wear this! So I am.”
“I need that.”
“I think need is subjective. I think you need this shirt as much as I need you to be shirtless.”
Surina frowned. “I have been shirtless all night.”
“Yeah, and I was asleep for most of it.”
“If you are looking to trade, I cannot wear yours. It could tear.”
“Oh noo,” Valcyis crooned, cupping her cheeks. “You have to be shirtless a little bit longer, how terrible.”
“Valcyis,” Surina warned, stepping closer. Valcyis bent her knees, ready to spring, and even though she was prepared, Surina gave chase around the room.
In short time she caught her around the middle and lifted her thrashing feet off the floor, hands pawing for the hem so she could wrestle it back. But Valcyis resisted, and she was strong, putting enough of a gap between them even while suspended to block Surina from finding purchase long enough to reclaim ownership.
Surina was too used to the svelte members of her party; she wasn’t used to someone matching her in strength avoiding her as they pleased.
She flung her back. Valcyis landed and stumbled into the wall, grinning wildly.
“Fine, keep it.” Surina returned to her pack to snare the blue tunic she wore overtop. “Thief.”
“It’s called borrowing, Suri, have you not heard of couples borrowing clothes before?” Valcyis admonished, straightening out the tunic. “You know, maybe this is why you should keep more than like three pairs of shirts, so you won’t miss one if I borrow it. Zephrine may be unreasonable about some things, or a lot of things, but at least she’s not wrong there.”
Surina frowned at her, but the matter was settled, and they continued getting dressed.
Valcyis threw the first punch. It caught Surina’s mouth, and the hard scales of her knuckles tore open the right side of her lip in a bloody gash. She snarled and tackled her to the ground, and then they were a mess of silver and white limbs flying for purchase, a spitball of pent-up aggression.
The steam died, eventually, after a fair exchange of blows. They separated, rolling off each other and collapsing onto their backs. Surina’s horns were still growing in – the longer they got, the more she couldn’t rest her head level with the earth. Her chest billowed with breath, and the short blades of grass were still crunchy with frosted dew beneath her. The sky was overcast, a pale grey dome, and its muted mood washed over her.
Surina touched her fingers to her mouth; they withdrew bloodied. Her arm flopped to the ground.
“That’s what you get,” Valcyis panted next to her, listlessly stabbing a finger in her direction before it fell to her stomach.
“I did not think you would actually hit me,” Surina said. “You have my respect.”
“Did you think poking a bear too many times would make it run off?”
“Oh, you are a bear?” Surina sat up. “You forget; I am also a bear.”
Surina clambered to her feet and offered Valcyis a hand. Her expression dithered from resolute to indignant to soft, but she accepted. Surina hauled her up.
“Your dad’s gunna kill me when he finds out I hurt you,” Valcyis said. “My dad’s gunna kill me.”
"We will not tell them, then,” Surina said. “We fell. That is our story. I will cover for you so long as you cover for me.”
“You? Lie to your dad, the Landgrave of Windcrest? Jeez, I must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”
“Would you rather I tell the truth?” Surina asked.
“No, no.” She crossed her arms and turned up her nose. "Even if you were wrong and deserved it, your dad won't like it."
Surina extended a hand. “Truce?”
Valcyis bounced on her toes, bit her lip, but didn’t wait as long to clasp her hand again. “Truce.”
Surina shook on it. “Maybe we can be friends? I treated you wrong and I would like to fix that.”
At first she wasn't sure why or even noticed. For her first eight years it meant Valcyis was around and gave her a neat trinket or bauble, her uncle or someone in the town inevitably fed her cake, and she was allowed a little more freedom than usual. She heard more ‘yes’s’ than ‘no’s.’
Closing in on her tenth year, tension shared space in her home. Her energy had always clashed with her dad's, but it was especially noticeable on her birthday. When she skipped into her dad's room to announce the date, it was like impacting the ground face first after falling out of a tree. There was a flash of pain on his face before he swept her up in his arms and carried her downstairs to make breakfast, the hurt of the fall having passed.
It was the same with Val, whose energy normally matched her own. She would greet her with a big hug, squeeze a little tighter than normal, but her eyes looked faraway when she set her on her feet.
On her twelfth birthday, after she’d crashed, she rolled out of bed to refill a cup of water. Her family always spoke in hushed whispers when she slept, but their tone made her slow and loiter at the top of the ladder.
“—torturing yourselves every year,” Rugarth was saying. “Today's a day for celebratin’, always has been and always will be.”
“We know,” Val said.
“And from what you told me it's what Penny'd want, too.”
Red's blood chilled. She rarely heard her mum's name.
“We know that, too,” Val replied, irritation colouring her voice.
“It's not her fault,” her dad rumbled.
“I think she can tell something’s up,” Rugarth said, and Red heard his footfalls, lighter and more dexterous than her dad's. His olive green skin and pop of red hair passed the base of the ladder and she ducked into the shadows. “If you get it all out in the open, you can celebrate two lives instead of tryin’ to celebrate one and grieve the other at the same time.”
“You don’t think it’ll ruin her birthday?” her dad asked.
“It might in the beginning? Not sayin’ it’s not a possibility, but she’ll also get over it, I think. She’ll appreciate the honesty.” Rugarth shrugged and moved again, out of sight, but she saw his behemoth of a shadow from the firelight. “Won’t know until you try, won’t we?”
“Do you think now’s a good time?” her dad asked. “Shouldn’t we wait until she’s a bit older?”
“As far as I’m concerned, telling these things to ‘em young is usually better. Longer you wait, the more time she’ll have to figure it out herself and the more time she’ll have to build resentment.”
“I’m not sure,” her dad said.
“Isn’t it better comin’ from you instead of...I dunno, her own head?” Rugarth asked. “A stranger?”
“I’m not sure,” her dad repeated.
“How do you know what’s best for her?” Val asked.
“I don’t, ‘course. I just like havin’ everything out on the table. I think she’ll be tougher if you don’t shy away from these things. Less sheltered, y’know?” He sighed. “I’m not speakin’ out of my ass. I had two girls.”
A chair scraped across the floor, followed by the heavier footfalls of either Valcyis or her dad. She inched back closer to the opening, her breath held in her chest like she’d captured it in a jar and was scared to let it go. She caught the edge of her dad, stroking his beard.
“This is just advice, Kethy,” Rugarth continued. “I think you’re potentially hurtin’ yourself as much as you’re potentially hurtin’ her.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” he murmured. She barely caught it. She might not have if she wasn’t so familiar with his voice.
Rugarth put a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s not an easy decision; can’t say I personally know a lot of kids who share a birthday with their mum’s death.”
The words hit like a sucker punch to the stomach, and Red gasped as if she had been struck. Their attention snapped in her direction, so she fled, ditching silence altogether and running to get that glass of water she’d got up for in the first place.
Her hand shook as she filled her cup from a pitcher. It was so obvious, she felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. Of course her mum’s death anniversary or whatever it was coincided with her birthday. Penny’d died giving birth. She knew that. She’d just failed to make the connection between her heart and her head.
Every day intimacy came a little easier. Surina withdrew from her hug with Valcyis but kept a hold of her upper arms, cradling them just behind the elbows.
She hesitated, unsure if this was the right time or place or if she was moving too quickly – but there was never any certainty about those things, no strict schedule to follow. Surina only knew what she wanted. She suspected there wasn't really a wrong time or place so long as she asked.
"Can I kiss you goodbye?" she broached, thumbs giving a nervous swipe of white scales.
Val's eyes widened, similar to how they did on their picnic, but she blinked it away and nodded quickly.
Surina's arms fell to grasp her hands and draw her in. Like a tacit, coordinated dance, Val stepped in at the same time to greet her, chests grazing. Surina touched the tips of their noses together, stole a breath, and kissed her. It was light and soft, nothing dramatic – it was all Surina could do, nothing more, nothing less.
She didn't consider herself much of a kisser, either, but her heart still gave a contented spark when Val returned it, a confirmation that it was the right time and place. She leaned away to meet a beaming Valcyis, bright like morning dew on grass. Surina grinned in return, then embraced her again, almost light-headed.
Goodbye kisses were supposed to be bittersweet, or so Surina was lead to believe. For her, though, it was a delightful reminder of something to return home to. She was melding something of her new life with her old and it was shaping up to be a marker of their relationship – quiet but intimate.
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
Getting ready for bed with Val in the room wasn’t unusual for Surina, and neither was sharing a bed with her. Doing both as her partner was.
She acted as normal even if the nature of their relationship changed within the last day – she pulled her shirt over her head, folded it, and laid it on the vanity. She tugged off her gloves from the pads and stacked them on top, then reached for some lotion. She didn’t anticipate staying at Victor’s, but there were miniature bottles for her to choose from.
The idea of being someone’s partner even before Valcyis came into the equation was still a foreign concept to her. She’d only held that title once, a few years following her exile. She tried not to overthink their future or her emotions – she gave herself permission to just live it while they were together. It was as Zephrine said: every relationship was unique.
She rolled the cream over the scales of her hands and knuckles and peered into the mirror. Valcyis’ reflection stared back from the bedside. Her gaze was on her body, fixed on the scars carved across her shoulder, chest, and stomach like lightning. Her mark of death.
Surina slowed, uncomfortable, having forgotten in the moment. Val’s expression was a white, unmarked page.
“Does it bother you?” Surina asked, snapping the tension. “I can put a shirt back on.”
“No, no,” Val said quickly, shaking her head and ending whatever stupor she was in. “You know, I thought I caught a glimpse of them when we were in Erek-Khem, but you were quick to change. I thought it was weird you’d sleep with your shirt on in the damn desert, but I didn’t want to pry.”
“It is a recent choice.”
Val walked over, slow and measured. “Can I see?”
Surina nodded and turned. Val stopped in front of her, sizing it up closer to, first with her eyes, then her hands. She laid a palm at her shoulder, then followed the scars with her fingers, bumping over collarbone, pectorals, and abdomen. Her touch was soft, the antithesis to what dealt the blow, but not shy, either. Her face was drawn in concern, lost in thought.
The hand settled over Surina’s sternum and Val met her eyes. “Does it bother you?”
“In the beginning, yes,” Surina admitted. “Less so now. I do not ‘see’ them so much anymore – they are a part of me as much as any other markings I have.”
“Then why the hesitation? Why the change? I've never known you to be self-conscious about scars.”
Surina was slower with her next answer. “For the others,” she said. She raised a hand to hold Val’s in place, squeezing it tight. “At first it was for myself, but I did not see my death. They did. I do not wish to remind them of what happened.”
“I think it’s better to confront those feelings than avoid them,” Val said. “I don’t know if this scar is going away anytime soon and you deserve to be comfortable. Maybe you should talk to them about it, see how they feel.”
“Maybe. It is a difficult subject.”
“Ah, but you’ve had plenty of difficult chats with them before, a lot of which have taken place over the last week. I know you can do it.” Val sighed, losing some of her height with her air. “I never saw it either, Suri.”
“I did not want you to think of it,” Surina said, shoulders caving slightly inwards.
“Kinda hard not to think about when you hand me your will,” Val noted with a wry smile.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Val assured, patting her chest with a solid thump-thump. “I said what I said about that and I meant it. Now, I for one would like it if you slept with your shirt off – so don’t worry about all that, okay? Not with me. I’m not gonna tear myself up thinking about what I would’ve done if I was there, it’s in the past. You’re here, now, and we can act on that.”
Surina smiled and tipped Val’s chin with two of her fingers, earning herself a grin. “I think that is reasonable.”
Red descended over Surina’s vision as a cloud of vultures. She reached for the handle of her greataxe and the rest became unclear – a blur of shapes and movement, shrieks indistinguishable from one another, and blood shooting in arcs. Unlike hitting a weapon or a shield when she sparred, her blade sunk in, broke skin and muscle and bone.
Every fight from her life before was calculated and made with years of professional training on her side. She never forgot who she was, where she was, or who was at the end of her blade. Combat began and ended in the space of seconds, but she remembered every detail to better herself for the next.
All that was pent up in her from the past several months – the pain, the loss, the sheer, concentrated anger – released at once.
Consciousness returned as she rose from a final blow. Her stance was wide and low, poised over a body. A human bandit’s head laid cleft in twain from temple to jaw, and his insides created a ropey bridge between her axe and what was left of him. Her breath left in heaves of white frost, and her fur felt bigger, swarming around her shoulders as if trying to engulf her head.
There was a soft, almost timid touch at her shoulder. She flinched and spun, a snarl in the back of her throat, but the touch belonged to Val. Her hand lifted, then clamped back down with conviction.
“Easy, Suri,” she said. “I think you got ‘em.”
Tension oozed out of her and she straightened out of her hunch. Half a dozen corpses littered the ground around them. Some had the clean plunge of a sword mark in their chest, a gift of Val’s, but most had severed limbs and gouges removed from their bodies just as large. A bloodbath.
Her greataxe – Fury’s Edge – gleamed red and wet. Her front, drenched. She threw aside the axe. Behind Val, with his back pressed up against the carriage, Balkis clutched his shirt. If a brass dragonborn could pale, he would have.
Surina’s decimation was ruthless. She had never seen destruction like this – not even when she discovered her brother dead in the street.
She felt like the monster Amysic described. She felt like she had become the person her parents banished instead of the woman she claimed to be. For that, she felt like she validated their decision. She trembled, and Val looped her arm with hers in silent support.
Surina watched as Valcyis fell asleep on their watch. Valcyis sat on the floor with her back against the wall, facing the door, her sword propped up beside her. First there was an intermittent yawn which became more frequent and her posture shifted from upright and vigilant to lax and sleepy. Her eyes were half-closed one moment and then fully the next, her chin dipping to rest against her chest. Her limbs gave in to gravity and her breathing slowed.
Surina watched, amused and fond. Valcyis teleported across the world and was still under the influence of the Imperium’s time, not the coastlands. Under normal circumstances she would have woken Val, especially if it was just the two of them – they couldn’t afford to doze. But here, with everyone present and the night air a relief from the daytime heat, she felt focused enough for the both of them.
She was more alert after what happened in Serpent’s Eye with the wererat assassins. They were no longer a threat, but assassins and bandits weren’t exclusively wererats. They had to be on guard for all things, expected and unexpected.
Surina pushed off the wall where she leaned and approached as soft-footed as she could. The floorboards groaned but everyone, Valcyis chief among them, remained knocked out cold.
Surina removed Val’s sword and replaced it by the couch she’d occupied, then returned and slid a hand under her back between her shoulder blades. One of her legs was bent and the other straight, but Surina folded up both and scooped her off the floor.
She stilled as she stood, but Valcyis hardly stirred, was practically dead weight. She smelled as her letters did – a pressed flower, some sort of soap, now touched by the arid scent of Erek-Khem. Surina crept back to the couch and laid her on it, draping her legs over the armrest and cushioning the side of her head against the chair’s back. She carefully arranged Val’s arms over her stomach so they weren’t flying everywhere.
Moving slowly to not disturb her meant her hands lingered, but eventually she drew away completely, successful.
Surina returned to her post, a quiet tenderness in her heart. She didn’t know what she did to deserve Valcyis’ friendship, but she would not take her for granted.
