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- In the Twelveshood, near Bentbranch Meadows -
Wind rustled the boughs and brought a slight shiver to Y’shtola’s skin, the warmth of midday fading into the cool evening air. Dappled orange light danced across the forest floor, though to the Archon’s eyes the Twelveswood pulsed with warm tones of wind, earth and stone, the Elementals’ domain rich in the currents of life itself. The path she walked lead to a beacon of aetherial light, ageless energies swirling together in the guise of a towering tree at the centre of a pond.
She had not visited the Everschade since the day she had been returned from the aetherial sea, for the first time at least. As a student in Sharlyan she had taken a fondness to conjury, and made a point to visit the Guardian Tree during her time as a Scion during the Sixth Umbral Era, at first if only to gain context for the culture of the land she sought to protect. Despite trading in her techniques for a special blend of thaumaturgy during her time in the First, the silent guardian at the bosom of the shroud had left its mark on her soul, and the nostalgic pang she felt in its presence once more sent yet more shivers down her spine.
It took her a moment to realize that the Guardian Tree was not the only energy she could sense here, an all too familiar aura having been sitting in plain sight the entire time. With a grin, she strode across the shallow pond and circled to the back of the mossy trunk, where the source of the aura could be found.
Lavender Paharo was quite short by Viera standards, yet still came a good half dozen ilms above the miqo’te’s head, ears not included. Her soft features would have seemed to glow in the dusklight had Y’shtola still the eyes to perceive such, instead tracing the lines of the Warrior of Light’s face in pure aether, soft yet defined, almost too gentle for the formidable fighter she had proven to be time and time again. For the now she sat in a crook between two massive roots, nestling comfortably in slumber with her conjurer’s cane cradled in one arm against her shoulder, mythril spectacles perched near the tip of her almost button-like nose.
Y’shtola studied Lavender serenely, watching the breeze rustle her wavy black locks. Since the day she had strode into the Waking Sands, the Archon sensed great things from Lavender. Memories of their travails ran through her mind, and a fondness for the friend she had risked life and limb many times over, and who had returned the favour in kind, settled over her. She took a breath, sighing gently, which was enough to elicit a slight twitch of the Viera’s ear and stir her from her slumber, turning bleary violet eyes towards her and smiling warmly.
“Good morning.” Shtola smiled back, settling down against the tree beside her leporine friend. “Or close as counts.”
“Good morning.” Lavender replied, smirking slightly. Her accent was distinctive yet clear, not unlike the Viis of the first. “And a lovely one too.” Y’shtola followed Lavender’s gaze out upon the Everschade. She was sure the Warrior of Light couldn’t see what she did, but guessed the evening light had made quite the display of the cozy hollow.
“It’s been too long since I’ve been here, and been conscious to appreciate doing so.” Y’shtola shivered and rubbed her arms subconsciously. “Could have chosen a warmer time to do so, I admit.” Her ears perked as she felt soft fabric across her bare shoulders, and looked to see Lavender draping her cloak over her. “Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself,” Shtola began, but was silenced by a gentle shake of the Viera’s head.
“I’m used to the cold, reminds me of home.” Y’shtola recalled that the Veena hailed from a forest at the base of a frigid mountain range, and their typical attire afforded quite little in the way of protection from the elements. An image of Lavender in such an outfit flashed through her mind, and she prayed the blush in her cheeks wasn’t noticeably apparent.
“My thanks, then.” She settled back with the delicately woven cloak held snug, and noted how soft the moss was, cushioning her quite comfortably against the aged roots. “I can see why you fancy this as a napping spot.” Among other reasons, she was sure, the woman being an accomplished White Mage, she was certain the voices of the Elementals made themselves known to her as well, in their own way.
The pair sat in silence for some minutes, Lavender not one for extraneous verbage, and Y’shtola quite content to oblige her the serenity of the moment. She felt a strange nostalgia, her mind drifting to memories of her youth spent in the verdant fields of Sharlyan, oblivious to all but her then and now. A bitter irony that the prospect of returning to her home would come under the pall of resentment. And here I thought I had come here to relax.
“Tell me something,” Y’shtola broke the silence with a slight furrow to her brow. “How do you take your mind off of things?”
Lavender regarded her for a moment, then closed her eyes and sat back against the great trunk. “I don’t think it’s possible to fully clear my mind, so I tend to distract myself instead.” She opened her eyes, looking up at the boughs reaching out across the pond. “I come here because the Elementals’ whispers set my mind at ease. It’s soothing to have something stable to anchor myself with.” She placed a hand on the trunk of the Guardian Tree, and Y’shtola could almost sense a flare of aether at the point of contact. She truly is a magnificent woman.
In more ways than one, she mused, studying the curve of her chest and the subtly toned muscles of her arms, decorated in no few amount of scars, a result of the healer’s habit of placing the safety of her comrades above her own during battle. An urge to trace the lines of those scars caused Shtola to quickly look away, silently cursing her foolish heart. “What troubles you, Shtola?”
“Much and more.” She replied, perhaps more wryly than she had intended. “I’m sorry,” she added, sighing. “You did not choose this retreat so that you may be bothered with an irritable guest.”
“Shtola...”
What has gotten into me? Y’shtola prided herself on her composure, yet here she was brooding as a girl not fourteen summers old, and despite her company and environs, she only found herself growing more frustrated with the turmoil in her heart. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt Lavender’s hand on her shoulder, and knew that her quickening heartbeat would not go unnoticed.
“I...” What is this lump in my throat?
“You can speak to me, and know I will never begrudge what troubles you have.” What is this trembling?
In the space of a blink, Y’shtola leaned forward, the moment her lips touching Lavender’s sending a jolt down her spine. What am I doing? Lavender blinked, then returned the kiss tenderly, eyes peering deep into her own. Mind racing, Y’shtola searched for anything to say, to do, panicking and exhilarated at the same time. As Lavender pulled back, she opened her mouth to apologize, but a soft finger met her lips before a word could be spoken. She closed her eyes and looked down, smiling. Fool of fools... A gentle hand on her chin brought her back up, her eyes opening to reveal a thin sheen of tears, her smile growing as she beheld her dearest friend.
“Would you mind...” Y’shtola’s voice wavered uncharacteristically, “doing that again?” Lavender giggled softly, and obliged, placing a hand at either side of Shtola’s waist. As she shifted her weight closer, she became painfully aware of the large root that sat between them. Her partner must have noticed as well, manoeuvring over the obstruction to come face to face with Shtola, practically pinning her back against the soft, mossy trunk. Their lips danced, Lavender’s breath warming Y’shtola’s face and neck, the ever decreasing temperature of the evening air unable to penetrate the shroud of their passion.
Wandering hands found their way along Y’shtola’s back beneath her shirt, deftly unlacing her bra as her lover’s mouth wandered along her neck. Shtola giggled breathlessly, gently pushing Lavender’s arms aside as she began to lift the hem of her shirt. “A bit hasty, hmm?” Lavender let out a sound halfway between a pant and a laugh, and Y’shtola’s pride was restored somewhat to know she could fluster the Warrior of Light.
Discarding her top, Shtola’s bra fell free, her bare chest heaving gently in the cool air. Lavender was in the process of disrobing herself, a more tedious process owing to her garb, and when it slid from her shoulders she stood bare for all but her knickers, which bulged conspicuously with her excitement. “Goodness...” Shtola bit her lip at the sight, hips shifting in anticipation. The Viera knelt between Y’shtola’s thighs once more, gliding her fingertops along the Archon’s abdomen, causing Shtola to shudder and gasp.
“Ticklish?” Lavender asked, raising an eyebrow. Shtola regarded her with as much mock indignity as she could muster through her lustful haze. Lavender continued tracing a path along Y’shtola’s sides, cupping her breasts before leaning down and suckling one lovingly. Shtola ran her fingers through her lover’s hair, brushing her bangs back and running a thumb across her cheek. Gods, she’s beautiful...
Lavender shifted, bringing a thigh between Y’shtola’s thighs, and suddenly she found her breaches far too constricting as she bucked her hips involuntarily. Sensing her need, Lavender pulled back, giving Shtola’s breast a final lick before sliding her hands down and unlacing her trousers, eyes locked with her partner’s. The Miqo’te lifted her hips to allow her bottoms to slide free, a small, glistening trail of lust ‘twixt knickers and nethers.
Lying bare as she had so many times, Shtola felt more exposed than she ever had in her life. Her heart raced as she watched her lover nestle down between her thighs, planting kisses softer than silk along her legs and stomach. Lavender giggled as Shtola wriggled, unable to keep her hips still in her longing. Locking eyes with her mate, the Warrior of Light slid her tongue between Y’shtola’s lower lips, pulling a gasping moan from her throat. Lavender hummed softly in response, her hands adorning the Archon’s body in loving caress as her tongue danced and delved, supping on the ample nectar of her lover’s heat.
The Everschade murmured with the sounds of the pair’s passion, though only a scant few grazing tree slugs were present to bear witness in the secluded glade. As Y’shtola’s moans pitched higher, Lavender pulled back from between her thighs, bracing herself over her lover and kissing her deeply. Shtola blushed ever deeper, savouring her own taste and curling her toes tightly. Pulling back from the kiss, Lavender rose to her knees and hooked her thumbs into the waist of her knickers, and the sight of her length coming free sent a rush of excitement to Shtola’s stomach.
Lavender leaned down once more, forehead to Shtola’s, one hand between their thighs, guiding herself to the Miqo’te’s entrance. “May I?” The Viera whispered breathily.
“Hush and take me already,” Shtola replied, wrapping her legs around Lavender’s waist. Her partner slid inside, hilting her in a single smooth thrust, and the moan Y’shtola loosed echoed around the walls of the sacred hollow. Y’shtola had a moment to catch her breath, moaning out again as Lavender built up a rhythm of slow, forceful thrusts, flesh sounding against flesh.
Clinging tight to her love, Shtola revelled in the sensation of smooth skin on skin, and the softness of Lavender’s breasts pressing against her own, accents to the bursts of pleasure flowing through her. Caressing her lover’s back, her fingers traced the myriad scars of countless battles, from claw and fang to steel, faded remnants of burns and bullets, murals upon the tapestry of flesh. Y’shtola’s own tingled with excitement, the length and girth of her partner’s womanhood pushing just far enough against her from within to hit that sweet spot that she herself struggled to reach at times.
“Hah, I may well make a habit of this, mmm...” It was no idle threat, and warm thoughts of future trysts filled Shtola’s mind even as she lay in the midst of coitus, her tail swishing excitedly.
“Nnh... I will, hold you to that... hha...” Lavender’s voice was sweet as honey even through her laboured breathing, and Y’shtola’s ears delighted at the slew of fresh noises she could hear the Warrior of Light produce. Grunts and groans of passion aren’t altogether dissimilar from those heard in battle, and contrasting the two in her mind added a certain tinge of sinful indulgence to her recollections of combat alongside her partner.
Lavender’s pace began to slow, and before Y’shtola could query she felt firm hands gripping her buttocks, lifting her up as she nearly squeaked in surprise, her back coming to rest against the mossy trunk, held above the ground by Lavender’s deceptively muscular arms, resuming her hurried thrusting as she stood upright. The Archon moaned as her nethers were spread by this new position, her tail snaking down to wrap around Lavender’s leg.
Sweat dripped down Y’shtola’s body, her skin glistening in the moonlight, the sun having set many minutes earlier in the throes of her and Lavender’s passion. Before long, a familiar tension flowered through Y’shtola’s body, signalling her oncoming climax. “L-lavender, I’m close,” Her lover’s pace quickened, and Shtola felt teeth biting gently into her neck. Shuddering, she loosed a howling moan as her orgasm burst free, limbs quivering and nethers clenching around her lover.
“A-ah! Shtola-!” Lavender’s thrusts halted abruptly, and Y’shtola cooed lovingly as the Warrior of Light shuddered against her, savouring the sweetly sinful sensation of fresh seed trickling down her thigh. The Warrior of Light’s legs finally weakened, and she lowered the couple to the ground, Shtola’s back still comfortably snug against the mossy roots of the Guardian Tree. As her afterglow set in, she found herself purring contentedly, and reached a shaky hand up to her lover’s cheek, brushing aside a strand of hair.
The nightbugs sang in the tender moments that passed, the entwined lovers catching their breath and gazing into each others’ eyes. Y’shtola shivered, suddenly aware of the brisk night air and her distinct lack of defence against it in the wake of the veritable furnace the couple had become during their mating. Noticing this, Lavender gently lifted her partner out of her lap, the Miqo’te gasping softly from the sudden friction in her rather sensitive nethers. The Warrior of Light once more draped her cloak around Shtola’s shoulders, settling beside her and cuddling close.
“Thank you, sweet thing.” Y’shtola rested her head on Lavender’s shoulder, and a warmth she could scarce describe blossomed within her chest. The words she wanted to say danced on the tip of her tongue, but in the clearness of thought that tended to follow in the wake of a climax she left them unspoken. One day, perhaps, when the looming threat of the Final Days had passed, and the world around them had settled into a sense of normalcy, but not now, when so much stood to be whisked away at a moments’ notice. To share these tender moments, or indulge one another in physical need was one thing, but love...
Perhaps one day...