Rava idly scanned the tavern with her sharp, golden eyes, taking in its modest but welcoming atmosphere. The wooden beams overhead were stained dark with age, the faint scent of smoke and spilled ale lingering in the air. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room, while the low murmur of conversation mixed with the occasional clink of mugs. It wasn’t the grand halls of her homeland, but it had a certain rustic charm she couldn’t entirely dismiss.
Her gaze lingered on a group of locals seated at a corner table, their hushed conversation betraying occasional glances in her direction. Whether it was her height, her wolfish features, or the unsettling presence of her companion, Rava couldn’t tell. Either way, she was used to the attention—or the suspicion.
One of the patrons, a large lekine man—shorter and slightly less muscular than Rava—separated from his group and approached her with a frown etched deeply across his face.
Rava cursed under her breath, her instincts immediately going on alert. The unease curling in her gut told her this wouldn’t be a simple exchange.
He stopped a few feet away, his eyes narrowing as they flicked over her. "You," he growled, the deep rasp in his voice laced with suspicion.
Rava tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "You," she echoed, her tone flat, nonchalant, as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
The lekine’s gaze shifted, a deliberate movement that made her skin prickle. "That girl you came in with... she looks wrong." His words dropped heavily, like the weight of an accusation or a warning.
Rava’s stance hardened, her fingers flexing instinctively at her sides. She had already heard whispers, but hearing it from this man—this stranger—made the hair on the back of her neck rise.
"Wrong?" Rava repeated, her voice a mix of disbelief and challenge. "What’s wrong with her?"
The lekine crossed his arms over his chest, stepping closer, his eyes flicking around as if to ensure no one else was paying attention. "Ain't natural, what she is. I saw it in her eyes when she walked in—something about her’s off, twisted. Can’t be good for the rest of us, travelling with someone like that."
Rava took a slow breath, the tension in her body almost palpable. "I don’t remember asking for your opinion," she said, the words slipping from her lips with quiet menace. "But you’re free to have one. Keep it to yourself, though."
The man didn’t back down. Instead, he took another step forward, trying to loom over her despite the height difference, his eyes narrowing. "I ain't just some fool, girl. You’ve got a monster at your back."
Rava leaned back in her seat, the wood creaking under her weight as she gave the man a measured look. “She’s more of an annoyance than a monster, even if she looks a little odd,” she replied coolly, her golden eyes never leaving his.
The lekine’s gaze shifted, a flicker of doubt crossing his face as he sized her up, perhaps questioning whether her words were sincere or a deflection. “That’s a damn strange way to put it,” he muttered, his posture still tense.
Rava’s lips curled into a half-smile, unamused. “Strange things happen when you travel with someone like her.” She let the words hang in the air between them, her tone sharp with an edge that suggested she wasn’t about to explain herself any further.
The man hesitated, clearly weighing his next move. “You know,” he said after a pause, voice dropping to a lower, more conspiratorial tone, “some folk say she’s got something unnatural about her. Ain’t right, a creature like that.”
Rava’s expression hardened, but she didn’t flinch. She set her drink down with deliberate slowness, the sharp clink of the mug against the table filling the space between them. “She’s not the problem,” Rava said evenly. “You are. So, piss off.”
The man’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of disdain and suspicion. “You sure about that? You’re playing with fire, girl. A creature like her... she’ll turn on you eventually. They all do.”
Rava’s grip on the mug tightened, but her voice remained cool. “I know who she is better than you ever will. And she’s not the one who’s going to hurt me.” Her golden eyes narrowed slightly, a warning in her gaze.
The lekine’s eyes flickered with doubt for just a moment, but the bravado quickly returned. “You’ll see. Mark my words.”
Rava leaned forward, her tone dipping low, a final, unspoken challenge hanging in the air. “I’ve seen plenty already. You’d do well to mind your own business.”
There was a pause, a beat too long for comfort. Then, with a grunt of frustration, the man turned, slamming his mug onto the table. He marched back to his group, muttering something under his breath that Rava didn’t bother to catch.
She watched him go, her posture tense, a faint throbbing at the back of her neck. The unease still simmered in her chest, but she quelled it. This was just another fool talking big, nothing she couldn’t handle.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. As she pushed the empty mug aside, a strange weight settled over the tavern, thick and palpable. Rava’s instincts, honed by years of travel and conflict, screamed at her to be wary. She wasn’t the type to shrink from danger, but the shift in the atmosphere made her uneasy. There were more eyes on her now, their gazes heavy with judgment, suspicion, or perhaps something darker. She might have withered under their scrutiny had she been a lesser woman, but Rava had weathered much worse in her life. She had a solid sense of herself, even in the face of mounting tension.
Still, she felt the weight of it—fear, uncertainty, like a thick fog that seeped into the walls. Even Vivienne, in her room upstairs, would feel it. Rava didn't doubt that the creature’s senses were far keener than her own. She scowled, the feeling only making her want to leave even more. No sense in lingering longer than necessary.
The barkeep finally arrived with two bowls of stew, placing them down before Rava with a sharp, deliberate motion. Her eyes were narrow, a hard look on her face. “Best you eat that upstairs, y’hear?”
Rava nodded, her grip tightening around the bowls. There was no mistaking the implication—the warning in the barkeep’s tone was clear. “Understood,” she muttered.
She stood, her eyes sweeping the room once more, sensing the growing tension that clung to the air. Every breath felt thick, like the atmosphere itself was pressing in on her, but she held herself firm. Her jaw was clenched, resolve solid, as she made her way toward the stairs. The feeling of being watched intensified with every step, but she didn't let it show. There was no time to waste.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Upon entering the room, the scent of the stew lingered in the air, a comfort that didn’t seem to ease the weight of the moment. Vivienne was sitting by the window, her figure still as a statue, staring out at the silent world beyond. There was a complexity to her expression, an unreadable mix of longing and thoughtfulness.
"I miss Harper and Luca," she said suddenly, her voice soft but heavy, the words slipping out without hesitation. She didn’t look at Rava as she spoke, her gaze fixed on the falling snow outside. "They would have loved a place like this. We didn’t get much snow where I lived. Only went to a place with snow once or twice. They’d always try to rope me and John into snowball fights."
Rava placed one of the bowls on the window sill in front of her companion, the movement almost gentle. She then settled herself on the bed, spoon in hand, the other cradling the bowl of stew. "Who were they?" she asked quietly, intrigued despite herself.
Vivienne let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. "They were my family. Luca had to have been..." Her voice faltered for a moment, the weight of her thoughts pressing in. "I can’t even remember how old he was, or Harper for that matter. I don’t know if I’m losing my memories, or if not everything survived the trip here." She stared at her hands, as though searching for something that wasn’t there.
Rava didn’t push, allowing the silence to hang for a moment before speaking again. “What were they like?”
Vivienne’s gaze softened as she remembered, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. “Harper was a troublemaker, always dragging Luca into her schemes, whether he wanted to or not. She was always the one to come up with some ridiculous plan. Once, they drew all over a painting I made for my husband. You should have seen how angry he got. But you know what he said to me when I tried to smooth things over?”
Rava’s curiosity piqued, her spoon hovering in mid-air. "What?"
Vivienne’s pouty lips spread into a solemn smile. “He said, ‘That was the first gift you ever gave me. It can’t just be replaced.’”
“Sounds like he was a sentimental man.”
Vivienne nodded, her smile lingering. “So, one day, while he was at work, I dusted off my paints and brushes and touched it up where the kids had drawn over it. Didn’t move from my chair for six hours so I could get it done before he came home.” Her eyes took on a distant glow as she relived the memory. “When I placed it back on the wall, it took him over three weeks to notice.”
She chuckled softly, a wistful edge to the sound. “He was so happy when he finally did. That man had a smile that could melt the iciest of hearts.”
Rava placed her wooden bowl aside, her expression thoughtful. “Sounds like he was a good man.”
Vivienne’s gaze grew distant again, and her voice softened, carrying the weight of regret. “Is a good man, I hope. I wish I could send them one last message—just one last goodbye.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, the quiet between them heavy with what was left unsaid. Vivienne’s smile faded as she leaned back in her chair, staring at the window but not really seeing it. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m losing them... if not everything from my old life survived the journey. The memories are starting to blur, and it feels like... like they’re slipping away.”
Rava’s brow furrowed, her heart tightening at the vulnerable admission. She wasn’t one for comforting words, but she couldn’t help the way her voice softened as she replied. “You’re not losing them, Vivienne. You’re just... in a different place now. You’ve still got that part of you with you. They’re not gone.”
Vivienne didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she gazed out the window, her lips pressed together as she held onto the quiet sorrow in her chest. The end of her long and thick obsidian tail was flicking back and forth, as if agitated. Rava could feel the weight of the moment, the stillness between them thick with unspoken thoughts. It wasn’t the first time she had seen Vivienne like this—so closed off, yet so vulnerable. It was as if she was staring at something far away, trapped in the past, or perhaps in some deeper place within herself. Rava knew that look—the look of someone carrying a burden too heavy to share, yet too present to ignore. There was a quiet strength in it, but also a kind of isolation that Rava couldn't help but feel for. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but she knew this was Vivienne’s moment to hold, her grief to carry.
Finally, Vivienne met Rava’s gaze again, her smile returning, but it was more bittersweet than before. “I hope you’re right. I really do.”
Rava gave her a short nod, before looking down at her bowl. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but thick with the unspoken understanding that both of them were carrying burdens that might never fully be lifted.
“Just remember,” Rava said, after a long pause, “you’re not alone. And you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
Vivienne's eyes softened, and for a moment, she looked like she might say something more. But instead, she just gave Rava a small, almost imperceptible nod, the faintest flicker of gratitude in her gaze.
Vivienne’s expression shifted suddenly, her lips curling into a playful grin as her trio of right eyes winked at Rava. “Cheers for the dinner. I don’t know if I can eat regular food anymore, but I’m willing to try!” She giggled, her tone light, though there was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze—something that lingered for just a second before the mask of playful teasing slipped back into place.
Rava couldn’t help but watch Vivienne closely as she took the spoonful, her eyes wide with curiosity. She flinched when Vivienne cracked her mouth open, the sight of her face splitting to reveal rows of glistening needles and a thin, serpentine black tendril curling out like a grotesque tongue. The image was unsettling, yet Rava couldn’t look away. Vivienne nonchalantly tipped the spoonful into her mouth, and with an audible snap, closed it again, the unsettling transformation vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
Vivienne blinked, then sighed with an exaggerated pout. “Oh! This tastes... very bland. Maybe I just don’t have a taste for physical food anymore.” Her voice carried a hint of dejection, though it was clear she was only half-serious.
Rava’s chuckle broke the quiet, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Or the stew is just bland. They don’t get much in the way of spice this far down south.”
Vivienne grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ah, well that makes me excited to taste your people—” She paused with a devilish smirk, “…I mean, the food of your people.”
Rava groaned, rubbing her face. “Please don’t eat my family or neighbours,” she said, half-serious, though there was a glint of amusement in her voice.
Vivienne’s smile never wavered, her gaze playful. “Not even a nibble? Just a little bit of fear?”
Rava’s smile softened, but she sat up in bed, eyeing Vivienne carefully. “I’d rather you didn’t. Though, if you must…” She trailed off for a moment before sighing. “Don’t take too much. If people start sleeping through the day with any regularity, the clan will notice.”
Vivienne hummed in response, the sound almost melodic despite the morbid topic. She seemed completely at ease. “Well, if there are any aetherbeasts around your town or city or whatever, I can just eat those to stave off the hunger.”
Rava let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “That would be... better, I suppose.” She leaned back against the bed’s scratchy covers, trying to settle into the discomfort, but her mind refused to relax. There was too much uncertainty in the air—an edge that hadn’t been there before. Vivienne’s transformation, her new hunger, it all hung over them like an impending storm. Rava couldn’t help but feel the weight of it, as if Vivienne’s very presence had shifted the balance of things. She wasn’t just a woman anymore; she was something else entirely. A creature teetering on the edge of something darker, something much harder to predict. And it was that unpredictability that made Rava uneasy.
Still, despite the tension, there was something magnetic about her—an undeniable pull. Vivienne’s confidence was hard to ignore, the way she carried herself with an effortless, almost wicked ease. Her grin, laced with mischief and danger, was both disarming and electrifying. And the way her form had changed, with those dangerous curves now accentuating her every movement... Rava couldn't help but notice. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but find the woman strangely alluring. It was a dangerous thought, one that Rava didn’t let linger for long. After all, she had learned the hard way that nothing good ever came from getting too close to something so chaotic.
But then again, maybe that was exactly why she felt drawn to Vivienne.