Rava slumped onto a bench in one of the gardens surrounding the clanhall, letting out a weary sigh. "That was exhausting." She rubbed at her temples as though trying to banish the lingering tension from the council meeting.
Vivienne, far less fazed, flopped down beside her with a smirk. "I thought it was rather fun, actually. And just for the record, they’re not allowed to complain about the ceiling damage. They did ask for a demonstration of my colossus form, after all."
Rava barked a short laugh despite herself. "For once, I’ll side with you. You even warned them about how big you’d get. If they’re upset, it’s their own fault." She exhaled deeply, the tension starting to melt from her frame. "But seriously, what now?"
Vivienne tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"
Rava shifted to look at her directly. "What you told my mother this morning—about being Akhenna’s champion. I already knew you were strange, but that’s… different."
"Different?" Vivienne arched a brow, a mischievous glint in her crimson eyes. "You mean lucky? Improbable? Unlikely? Or that you happened to be my first point of contact in this delightful world of yours?"
Rava waved a hand dismissively, though a small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I mean, it explains the theatrics. But it’s not every day someone like you walks into our lives claiming to be marked by one of the gods. Let alone Akhenna."
Vivienne leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. "Trust me, it wasn’t exactly on my to-do list either. But here we are."
Rava studied her for a moment, her amber eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You make it sound so casual. Most people would be falling over themselves to make sense of it. Or terrified."
"Terrified, huh?" Vivienne tilted her head, a slow, needle-toothed grin spreading across her face. "Not really my style. I’ve already been through worse than a divine sponsorship, believe me."
"Maybe," Rava admitted, leaning back as well. "But being a champion isn’t just some passing fancy. It puts you right in the middle of… well, everything."
Vivienne turned her head slightly, her grin softening into something more contemplative. "Good. That’s exactly where I want to be. Besides, you’re not exactly sitting on the sidelines either, wolf-girl. You’re in this mess with me, whether you like it or not."
Rava let out a half-sigh, half-laugh, shaking her head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
"And yet, here we are," Vivienne said, her tone light but her gaze steady.
Rava leaned back on the bench, gazing up at the deep blue sky dotted with streaks of fading sunlight. "All of that," she admitted. "I mean, champions are unique, but Akhenna? Of all the gods to claim someone? It feels… significant. And a little unnerving. Like something big is coming."
Vivienne stretched out, her clawed hands resting behind her head as she smirked. "You're not wrong. It unnerves me too, sometimes. Akhenna isn’t exactly known for playing by the rules. But it’s not like I had a choice in the matter."
Rava tilted her head toward her companion, curiosity flickering in her amber eyes. "You really didn’t?"
Vivienne’s smirk faltered, her expression growing distant. "Not really. I died, somehow drifting from the river of souls and ended up catching her attention. She offered me… something. A purpose, I guess. A way to fight back against everything that used to crush me this time around."
Rava sat up straighter, her ears flicking forward in interest. "And that’s enough for you? To fight back against Praxus and his plans? What happens when it’s over?"
Vivienne shrugged, though her tone held a faint edge. "I haven’t thought that far ahead. Maybe I’ll find a cosy spot in your clanlands and eat intruders. Or maybe I’ll travel the world, see the sights, eat people I haven’t tasted before." Her dark eyes turned to Rava, gleaming faintly in the fading light. "What about you? What do you think of all this? Of me?"
Rava hesitated, her claws brushing the edge of the bench. "I think you’re dangerous," she said honestly. "Unpredictable. You turn everything on its head, and you’ve dragged me into things I don’t fully understand." She paused, her voice softening. "But… I also think you’ve done more good than harm. You saved that boy, fought alongside me, and stood in front of the council like it was nothing. That counts for something."
Vivienne leaned closer, her grin returning. "Only something? I’m crushed, really."
Rava huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. "Don’t push it."
"Admit it, you’d miss me if I left," Vivienne teased, her tone light but her gaze searching.
Rava didn’t answer right away, her expression thoughtful. Finally, she said, "Maybe. But only because you’d probably leave a mess behind for me to clean up."
Vivienne laughed, a low, genuine sound that echoed through the garden. "Fair enough, wolf-girl. Fair enough."
The pair sat in a comfortable silence, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of distant birds. The sun dipped below the horizon, its fading light spilling over the treetops in warm hues of orange and purple. Shadows stretched long across the forest floor, swaying gently in the evening breeze.
Rava eventually broke the silence, her voice casual. “Want to get a drink?”
Vivienne tilted her head lazily, one corner of her mouth quirking upward. “Like at a bar or something?”
“A bar?” Rava asked, brow furrowing.
“A place where they just serve alcohol,” Vivienne replied, her tone casual, almost wistful.
“You mean a tavern?” Rava said, her ears flicking.
“Taverns serve food, don’t they?” Vivienne countered, sitting up slightly. “We had something similar called a pub. Loud, crowded, filled with terrible booze and even worse food.” She almost smiled, her gaze growing distant.
“Sounds like a tavern to me,” Rava said with a faint chuckle. “Though maybe the food isn’t always terrible. Some places do a decent stew.”
Vivienne snorted softly. “Decent stew. High praise.” She stretched, her shadowy limbs elongating unnaturally for a moment before settling back. “Fine, I’ll bite. Let’s find one of these taverns. But if the booze tastes like boiled socks, I’m holding you responsible.”
“You know what boiled socks taste like?” Rava asked dryly, brushing dirt from her fur and adjusting her tunic.
Vivienne shuddered dramatically. “When you’ve had kids, you end up smelling and tasting things you wish you hadn’t. Trust me, boiled socks would’ve been an upgrade some days.”
Rava raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. “That’s a mental image I didn’t need.”
They made their way through the darkening streets, where labourers moved methodically, infusing streetlamps with aether. The lamps glowed softly, their light a faint blue hue that cast long shadows against the cobblestones.
Vivienne stuck close to Rava as they navigated the city, her companion’s presence drawing most of the attention away from her. The sheer size of the lekine made her an imposing figure, enough to dissuade lingering stares.
Despite that, Vivienne’s sharp gaze caught the occasional sideways glance, and she couldn’t help but notice just how different her companion was to the average lekine. As they passed by others milling about in the twilight hours, she realised just how much taller she was than the average lekine.
She glanced at Rava’s towering form. Must’ve got it from her mother, Vivienne thought wryly. The tall and handsome type. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, but she said nothing, falling back into step beside Rava.
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The streets grew quieter as the evening deepened, the gentle hum of distant conversation and the occasional clatter of tools fading into the night. Vivienne’s eyes darted around, her instincts sharp despite the relative calm. The city had a strange rhythm, its blend of aetheric light and cobblestone paths lending it an otherworldly charm she couldn’t quite place.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Rava remarked, her voice low but warm.
“Just taking it all in,” Vivienne replied, her gaze lingering on a pair of lekine children chasing each other near a lamppost. Their laughter was infectious, even if it made her chest ache with memories she wasn’t ready to unpack. “You don’t realise how different everything feels until you stop running for a minute.”
Rava tilted her head, her ears flicking in thought. “That’s… surprisingly introspective for you.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Vivienne said, flashing a grin that was just shy of genuine.
They rounded a corner, and a modest wooden building came into view. A sign swung gently in the evening breeze, painted with the image of a frothy mug and a crescent moon. Warm light spilled from its windows, accompanied by the faint hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
“This is it,” Rava said, nodding toward the tavern.
Vivienne eyed the establishment. “Quaint. Doesn’t smell like boiled socks, does it?”
Rava snorted. “Only one way to find out.”
The pair pushed open the door, stepping into a cosy interior lit by lanterns infused with a soft golden glow. The air was warm, filled with the rich scent of spiced meats and freshly baked bread. Lekine, humans, and a smattering of other folk filled the space, gathered around sturdy wooden tables or lounging at the bar.
Vivienne couldn’t help but notice the heads that turned as they entered. The stares were fleeting, more curious than hostile, but they still made her skin prickle. She stayed close to Rava, who strode in with the casual confidence of someone who knew they belonged.
The lekine barkeep, a stout woman with greying fur and an easy smile, waved them over. “Rava! Been a while since I’ve seen you in here.”
“Busy times, Elska,” Rava replied, her tone light. “Thought I’d introduce my friend here to some decent drink.”
Elska’s keen gaze flicked briefly to Vivienne, her eyes lingering just a moment too long. Vivienne could already sense the faint, bitter tang of fear wafting from the woman, but to her credit, the innkeeper’s expression remained composed, even welcoming. "Any friend of yours is welcome here," she said smoothly, her voice carrying a practiced warmth. "What can I get for you?"
Vivienne glanced at the row of bottles behind the bar, filled with liquids in every imaginable hue. “What’s good?”
“Depends,” Elska said, her grin widening. “Do you want to remember the night or not?”
Vivienne chuckled. “Surprise me.” What surprised her though was how little fear she felt from this stout woman. Barely a lick of fear for her.
As the barkeep busied herself, Rava leaned against the counter, watching Vivienne with an unreadable expression. “You’re handling this better than I expected.”
Vivienne raised an eyebrow. “What, being in a tavern? It’s not my first rodeo, you know.”
“No, I mean… fitting in. People aren’t exactly subtle with their stares, but you’re not letting it get to you.”
Vivienne shrugged, though her eyes flicked to the other patrons. “Let them look. I’m used to being the odd one out.” She paused, her voice softening. “Besides, it’s nice to just… exist for a minute. No monsters. No fights. Just a drink and some questionable company.”
Rava’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Questionable, huh?”
Elska returned with two mugs, sliding them across the bar. “One house brew for you, Rava, and something with a bit of bite for your friend.”
Vivienne picked up her mug, sniffing the amber liquid. The sharp, spicy aroma made her eyes water. “This smells like it could strip paint.”
“That means it’s good,” Rava said, raising her own mug.
With a grin, Vivienne clinked her mug against Rava’s. “To questionable company.”
Rava chuckled. “To surviving the night.”
They drank, the warmth of the tavern wrapping around them like a familiar, well-worn cloak. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Vivienne felt… normal. Not a nightmare creature, not a harbinger of some divine scheme—just a woman in a tavern, sipping a drink and letting the moment breathe.
It was a rare comfort, one she didn’t realise she needed. While she appreciated what she had become—what she had overcome—the sheer mundanity of this moment felt like a balm. Even the other patrons seemed to sense it, content to mind their own business rather than dwell on the towering lekine and her odd, shadowy companion.
The faint murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of mugs filled the space, a soothing backdrop as Vivienne nursed her drink. It was strong, sharper than she expected, but it warmed her chest in a way that was almost pleasant. She found herself glancing up at Rava, who leaned casually against the bar, her golden eyes scanning the room with quiet vigilance.
Rava was fascinating, Vivienne admitted. Everything about her seemed carved from a life of purpose—the untamed hair that refused to be tamed, the sharply defined muscles that bespoke years of training, and the quiet confidence in her every movement. She was tall, striking, and... undeniably handsome.
Vivienne caught herself staring and quickly looked away, her thoughts spinning. It had only been a few weeks since she arrived in this strange world, and everything about it captivated her—its magic, its people, its raw, untamed beauty. But the memories of her past life loomed like a spectre, foggy and distant yet inescapably present.
Her husband. Her children. Their faces were slipping from her mind, like trying to grasp water in her hands. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to fall into that pit of loss.
“That’s an odd look for you,” Rava said, her voice cutting through Vivienne’s spiraling thoughts.
Vivienne blinked, snapping back to the present. “What is?”
“That sad, wistful look.”
Vivienne hesitated, her gaze flicking to her mug. “I was just… thinking.”
“Thinking tends to lead to that look,” Rava said lightly, but there was a flicker of concern in her tone.
Vivienne forced a small smile. “Guess I’m out of practice with the whole ‘relaxing’ thing.”
Rava tilted her head, studying Vivienne. “Fair. But if you’re going to start brooding, I’ll have to throw something at you. I can’t stand quiet gloom.”
Vivienne let out a soft laugh, grateful for the break in tension. “Noted. I’ll keep my existential crises to myself.”
“Good,” Rava said, her smirk widening. “We came here to drink, not mope.”
Vivienne rolled her quintet of eyes, her sharp grin spreading wide. “Then we’ll drink until there’s no room left for those pesky thoughts.”
Rava laughed heartily, a deep, warm sound that rumbled from her chest. She raised her mug and took a long swig of her ale. Vivienne followed suit, only to immediately cough and sputter, her button nose scrunching as the liquid burned its way down.
“Oh, that burns,” Vivienne groaned, setting her mug down with a dramatic flair.
“You’re supposed to nurse it,” Rava said, smirking at the display. “Or use it for drinking games. Not gulp it like water.”
Vivienne’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “Then let’s make a game of it, shall we?”
Rava stroked her chin theatrically, a sly grin curling her lips. “Now that is an idea I can get behind.”
It didn’t take long for their drinking game to spiral into chaos. For all her otherworldly prowess, Vivienne’s alien biology was no match for the tavern’s potent brews. After just a few rounds, she was already swaying slightly, her many eyes struggling to focus. Rava, on the other hand, was only beginning to feel the effects, her cheeks faintly flushed but her movements still steady.
“Not so tough now, are we?” Rava teased, leaning back in her chair.
Vivienne narrowed her eyes—or tried to—but the effect was ruined by her lopsided grin. “I’m… plenty tough! Just not used to this ‘drinking’ thing. Back where I’m from, I didn’t really… do it. I drank tea. Lots of tea.”
“Tea?” Rava snorted, her tail flicking with amusement. “Tea doesn’t exactly scream ‘hardcore.’”
“You’d be surprised,” Vivienne said, her tone mock-serious. “Some of that tea was downright vicious. But fine, laugh it up.” She gestured dramatically at their mugs. “Pour another!”
The night devolved into a blur of challenges and increasingly slurred banter. Rava’s booming laugh mingled with Vivienne’s half-coherent declarations of victory, neither of them keeping track of who was winning.
By the time they reached the bottom of their umpteenth mug, Vivienne was draped halfway over the table, giggling at her own shadow, while Rava’s attempts to count her fingers had turned into an existential crisis about how many fingers lekine should have.
“You’re… very muscular,” Vivienne declared suddenly, poking Rava’s arm with a clawed finger.
“And you’re… squishy,” Rava countered, prodding Vivienne’s shoulder with equal fervour.
They both dissolved into laughter, loud and unrestrained, drawing the occasional glance from other patrons.
“Last round?” Rava slurred, raising a brow—or at least attempting to.
“Absolutely,” Vivienne said, slamming her hand on the table before immediately regretting it. “Ow.”
The last round was a mistake. Neither of them remembered much after that, except for vague impressions of stumbling back to the clanhall, Rava’s arm slung over Vivienne’s shoulder as they tried—and failed—not to trip over their own feet.
----------------------------------------
Vivienne woke first, her head pounding despite her being sure she didn’t technically have a brain and her many eyes refusing to focus. She groaned, the unfamiliar sensation of a hangover making her wish for immediate oblivion. As she tried to shift, she realised something was very wrong—or perhaps very right.
She wasn’t alone if the groaning beside her was any indication.
Turning her head slowly, she found herself face-to-face with Rava, who was sprawled across the bed face down, her arm draped over Vivienne’s torso in a protective, almost possessive manner and very pointedly not dressed. Much like herself.
“...Oh dear.” Vivienne muttered, her voice raspy.
Rava stirred, her ears twitching as she blinked groggily at Vivienne. For a moment, there was silence as the two stared at each other, the events of the previous night just out of reach.
Rava’s golden eyes went wide.
“Gods help me.”