novelraw Chapter 108 – Autumn Rain
Chapter 108 – Autumn Rain
Vivienne couldn’t deny the thrill she felt as she indulged in the fear radiating from Elira. The human’s repulsion only made the experience sweeter. Especially when Elira was off-limits for food. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that while she couldn’t sink her teeth into the woman’s flesh, she could feast on the fear that poured from her, aether crackling in the air like a dessert just within reach. The energy was so rich, so vibrant, it was almost enough to sate her hunger. Almost.
She watched with a smirk as Elira’s eyes widened in disgust, yet the woman never turned away, never retreated. Vivienne had half expected her to bolt at any moment, especially after the tempest bull had been torn apart with such primal savagery. But no, there she stood, stiff as a board, visibly repulsed yet unable to look away. For a moment, Vivienne felt a flicker of admiration for the human's resolve. The little creature’s stomach was a lot more resilient than she’d expected.
Still, as the beast's final remnants were consumed—its white blood staining her dress in bright streaks and its flesh now nothing more than an afterthought—Vivienne felt the familiar rush of satisfaction settling into her bones. The tempest bull, a creature of such strength and ferocity, was no more. And as its essence filled her up, Vivienne allowed herself a contented sigh.
Her prehensile tongue darted out instinctively, long and sinuous, as it licked at the remnants of blood and sinew still clinging to her skin. The taste of the tempest aether was intoxicating, and she wasn’t going to leave a drop behind. Her tongue traced the curves of her body, cleaning every last bit of the mess she had made, savoring the fading rush of energy as it washed over her. There was something almost sensual in the way her tongue moved, fluid and sinuous, as though it were as much an extension of herself as any part of her body.
When she was satisfied, every trace of the bull wiped away, Vivienne let out a soft hum of contentment. She could feel the energy coursing through her now, the fear and the satisfaction blending together into something almost too sweet. It left her feeling both full and energized, ready to play with whatever came next.
As the first rays of sunlight began to creep over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the camp, Vivienne pushed herself to her feet, stretching luxuriously. She took a moment to savor the world around her—the quiet of the morning, the last remnants of the night still hanging in the cool air. With a flick of her tail, she began wandering around the edge of the camp, her eyes scanning the sleeping figures of her companions.
Rava was up before the first rays of sunlight fully lit the camp. Vivienne barely batted an eye at this; she’d come to expect it. The lekine had a natural discipline, a sense of purpose that seemed to drive her to rise before anyone else. Her movements were deliberate, her silhouette cutting a sharp figure against the muted colors of the early morning. Rava stretched briefly, rolling her shoulders before setting about her usual routine, though she spared a quick glance at Vivienne wandering near the ward's edge.
Not long after, Ivor stirred within his tent. The tall, stoic man was quiet as ever, his presence announced only by the faint sound of canvas rustling as he peered out, scanning the camp with a watchful gaze. His movements were measured, almost ritualistic, as he pulled back into his tent to dress for the day. It wasn’t long before he emerged fully clad, adjusting his gear with practiced efficiency. He offered Rava a slight nod, which she returned, and the two exchanged no further words. It seemed to Vivienne that mutual respect spoke louder than any morning greeting between them.
The last to rise, as always, was Kivvy. Her tent was entirely still until Rava approached with her characteristic bluntness. The lekine planted herself firmly at the foot of the small structure and delivered a swift, no-nonsense kick to the base, causing the fabric to ripple with a loud thwack.
"Up," Rava barked, her tone leaving no room for argument.
A muffled groan came from within, followed by a shuffle and a sigh. "Alright, alright, I’m up! No need to take the tent down with me still in it," Kivvy grumbled as she fumbled with the ties of the entrance. A moment later, her head popped out, her hair an unruly mess and her expression a mix of annoyance and resignation.
"You're lucky I didn’t," Rava muttered, already moving on to stoke the campfire.
Vivienne watched the scene unfold with mild amusement, her sharp smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was a small, predictable morning routine, but there was a comforting rhythm to it. Everyone was beginning to stir, and soon, the camp would come alive with the sounds of breakfast and the day’s preparations. For now, she remained an observer, savoring the little moments of calm before the inevitable chaos of the day ahead.
Once everything was packed up, the fire doused and scattered, and every item secured tightly in the wagon, an uncomfortable silence settled over the group. It lingered long enough for Elira to finally break it, her tone tinged with curiosity and mild skepticism.
"Where are your beasts of burden? Don’t you have quocha or something for pulling this thing?" Her gaze shifted to Vivienne, a flicker of doubt crossing her expression. The almost accusatory look earned nothing more than a wide grin from Vivienne, who had been waiting for this moment.
Without a word, Vivienne's form shimmered, her body shifting fluidly and shrinking down into her lesser wolf form. The transformation was as seamless as it was unsettling, drawing an audible gasp from both Elira and Ivor. Their reactions brought a wag of her tail, the exaggerated motion betraying her smug delight at their surprise.
“Of course she does that,” Elira muttered under her breath, shaking her head as if trying to make sense of what she’d just witnessed.
Rava didn’t waste time on theatrics. She stepped to the back of the wagon, where the harness and tack were stowed, and retrieved the necessary equipment. "Hold still," she said curtly to Vivienne, who obligingly lowered herself, still wagging her tail. Rava worked quickly, strapping the harness onto the wolf-like form with practiced efficiency before hitching her securely to the wagon.
When everything was fastened in place, Rava gave the wagon a sharp tug to test the tension and nodded in satisfaction. “There isn’t much room, so one of you can hop in the back. The other’s walking,” she announced, her tone brooking no argument.
Elira’s mouth opened as if to protest, but she stopped herself, her gaze flicking between the wagon, Vivienne’s form, and the unyielding look on Rava’s face. Ivor, ever stoic, simply adjusted the strap on his pack.
“I’ll walk,” he said, his voice calm and practical. Without another word, he took up a position beside the wagon, ready for the journey ahead.
Elira sighed, muttering something unintelligible under her breath, before hoisting herself into the back of the wagon. She settled in, grumbling softly but not daring to complain aloud.
Vivienne glanced over her shoulder, her sharp, intelligent eyes locking with Elira’s. The grin on her lupine face seemed to widen, filled with mischievous satisfaction.
"Comfortable, darling?" she asked with a playful lilt, her voice carrying through the connection between her forms.
Elira didn’t dignify the question with a response, her arms crossed as she looked resolutely ahead, pretending not to notice the faint chuckle that escaped from the strange wolf pulling the wagon.
The day stretched on, marked by an unchanging expanse of grassy steppes and an unbroken layer of overcast skies. The monotony of the landscape was matched only by the silence within the group. Rava sat at the front of the wagon, her sharp gaze fixed ahead, occasionally barking out instructions to Vivienne. "South. Keep towards the Greyreach range," she said, her voice steady but clipped, as if she were conserving her energy for the journey ahead.
Vivienne obeyed without complaint, her powerful lupine form moving effortlessly across the terrain. She was accustomed to pulling her weight—literally, in this case—but the lack of conversation gnawed at her. She’d tried to strike up some light banter with Ivor as he walked beside the wagon, but his responses were as short as his strides were long. His stoic nature proved an unshakable wall, and while she wasn’t one to give up easily, she eventually let the silence win.
Elira, on the other hand, was even less cooperative. She had taken up a position in the back of the wagon, her body language screaming avoidance. She kept her gaze deliberately averted from Vivienne, either staring out at the steppes or engaging in quiet conversation with Kivvy, who sat beside her.
The cold shoulder didn’t go unnoticed. Vivienne found herself glancing back now and then, her keen ears catching snippets of their whispered exchanges. She could admit, if only to herself, that Elira’s standoffishness grated on her nerves. Normally, she delighted in prodding people until they snapped—until they reacted. But it was hard to get under someone’s skin when they refused to acknowledge you at all.
Still, seeing Kivvy smiling and chatting was a small consolation. The goblin had been timid around her from the start, and Vivienne couldn’t entirely blame her. She was a monster, after all—a fact she neither shied away from nor particularly sought to hide. Yet, despite her natural inclination to revel in the fear she inspired, she genuinely wanted to be on good terms with Kivvy.
It was strange, really. Vivienne didn’t consider herself sentimental, but something about Kivvy’s skittish demeanor tugged at a part of her she rarely paid attention to. Maybe it was because the goblin reminded her of the people she used to protect in another life. Or maybe it was just refreshing to see someone who wasn’t completely hardened by the world.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she heard Kivvy’s giggle break the quiet. Elira must have said something to draw that out, and despite her irritation with the human woman, Vivienne felt a flicker of gratitude. At least someone was making an effort to keep Kivvy at ease.
The group traveled in this arrangement for several days, the monotony of the journey broken only by the occasional adjustments to their routine. After the first night sharing a camp, both Ivor and Elira began taking turns on watch each evening, regardless of Vivienne or Renzia’s assurances that they had it covered. Vivienne suspected Elira’s newfound diligence was inspired by the fear she had instilled, and that realization filled her with a quiet, wicked amusement.
It was clever of them, though. In truth, they should have been doing it from the start. If their goal was to foster trust, keeping themselves engaged in the group's safety would have gone a long way toward making them seem less suspicious. As it was, their sudden vigilance only confirmed Vivienne’s suspicions that they were hiding something.
She didn't mind. The prospect of uncovering whatever secrets they harbored was far more entertaining than the endless grassy steppes or the muted overcast skies that painted their journey. And if it turned out that Ivor and Elira were far less friendly than they pretended to be—well, Vivienne thought with a sly grin—she’d be more than happy to pick her teeth with their bones.
She glanced over at Rava, who sat in the driver's seat of the wagon, holding reins she did not need, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon for anything unusual. Her lekine companion seemed to share her wariness of their new, very temporary, allies, though she had a subtler way of expressing it. Rava’s calm yet vigilant presence reassured Vivienne. If trouble came, they would face it together—and Vivienne could think of no one better to have at her side.
As they settled in for the evening, the sky deepened into an ominous shade of gray, heavy clouds pressing low over the grassy steppes. Rava paused mid-step, her ears twitching slightly as she sniffed the air. “Rain’s coming,” she announced matter-of-factly, her gaze scanning the horizon. “I’m going to enchant the ward against it for tonight.”
“Then I think I will stay in the ward for tonight, darling. I don’t fancy getting wet.” Said Vivienne.
“You can tell just by smell?” Elira asked, her tone teetering between curiosity and skepticism.
Rava glanced at her briefly, then nodded. “Yeah,” she replied simply before heading toward the wagon to rummage for the warding rods.
Elira turned to Ivor with a teasing grin, nudging his side. “You two have so much in common. Can’t get either of you to shut up.”
Vivienne laughed softly, the sound carrying a note of mischief as she shifted into her humanoid form. Her figure shimmered and compressed, the shadows that had made up her wolf form folding in on themselves until her humanlike body emerged. She caught the harness just before it hit the ground, tossing over her shoulder with ease. “Don’t worry,” she said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Once you get to know her, she still doesn’t talk that much.”
Rava shot her a look from across the camp, a mixture of mock annoyance and begrudging amusement flickering in her sharp features. “I talk when there’s something worth saying,” she called back, her voice steady as she worked to set the warding rods in a neat perimeter around their camp.
“That’s one way to put it,” Vivienne quipped, her smile widening as she watched Rava work. The lekine’s movements were precise, almost methodical, as if she had performed this task a thousand times before. It was a quiet kind of competence, one Vivienne found herself admiring despite the teasing.
Elira rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile despite the fear Vivienne could still taste from her. “You two sound like an old married couple,” she muttered, earning a raised eyebrow from Ivor and a full-blown laugh from Vivienne.
“Darling, if we were married, I’d never let her leave my sight,” Vivienne replied smoothly, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. She rested a hand on her hip and shot Rava a playful wink.
“Good thing we’re not, then,” Rava retorted without missing a beat, planting the final rod into the ground with a satisfying thunk. She brushed her hands together, a faint glow already beginning to form around the rods as she prepared the ward. Her sharp eyes flicked to Vivienne. “Viv, come here. I’m going to need your help for this. It’s going to drain me.”
Vivienne shrugged casually, tossing the harness into the back of the wagon without looking. Her movements were smooth, her hips swaying slightly as she made her way toward Rava. “Want me to keep you charged while you’re working?” she asked, her voice light but carrying an undertone of genuine concern.
Rava nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah.” She glanced over her shoulder at the others, her tone brisk and commanding. “The rest of you, go find firewood before it gets wet. Unless any of you know tidal exomancy,” she added with a wry smirk, “in which case, just grab anything that’ll burn.”
Elira blinked, her brow furrowing as if she were about to question the instruction but thought better of it. Ivor, ever stoic, gave a curt nod and began scanning the area for dry wood. Kivvy, who had been perched on the edge of the wagon, muttered something under her breath and scampered off after him, her small frame darting into the gathering gloom.
As they departed, Vivienne turned her attention fully to Rava. “Alright, love. Let’s see what you’ve got,” she said with a playful grin, though her posture shifted slightly, her body language more attentive now.
Rava knelt by the first rod, her hands hovering just above it as she began murmuring an incantation. Her voice was low and steady, the words rolling off her tongue in a language that seemed older than the earth itself. The glow around the rods intensified, and Vivienne could see the strain beginning to creep into Rava’s features—the tension in her jaw, the slight tremor in her fingers.
“Easy,” Vivienne murmured, stepping closer. She rested a hand lightly on Rava’s shoulder, her touch cool but grounding. A soft, pulsing aura spread from her palm, a flow of energy transferring from her to Rava. It was subtle, like a steady trickle of water replenishing a parched stream.
Rava exhaled sharply, the strain easing just enough for her to continue. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice tinged with gratitude but still focused.
“Don’t mention it,” Vivienne replied, her tone softer now. She crouched beside Rava, watching the lekine work with a quiet admiration. For all her teasing and bravado, there was something deeply satisfying about being needed in moments like this—something grounding about lending her strength to someone she trusted.
The ward began to take shape, a shimmering dome of faint light encircling their camp. It flickered slightly at first, but with each passing minute, it grew more stable, its glow steady and reassuring against the encroaching darkness.
“You’re doing great,” Vivienne said, her voice low but warm. Rava shot her a brief, sidelong glance, her lips curving into a faint, almost reluctant smile before she refocused on the task at hand.
By the time they were finished, the air had grown cooler, the last of the fading light from the setting sun casting long shadows over the camp. The fire had been built and was now roaring warmly, flames dancing and crackling with a life of their own. Ivor stood nearby, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he stirred a pot of stew over the fire, the aroma of herbs and meat filling the air. Kivvy, as eager as ever when food was involved, was sitting cross-legged beside him, her bright eyes focused intently on the bubbling pot. Every so often, she would glance up at Ivor, as if silently asking when it would be ready, though she knew better than to rush him.
Rava and Vivienne, their task now complete, sat themselves down by the fire. The lekine’s strong form settled next to Vivienne with a soft thud, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows over her sharp features. Rava exhaled deeply, a sound of both relief and satisfaction, though the traces of strain still lingered in the way she held herself. Vivienne, always aware of her companion’s needs, didn’t waste any time.
She wrapped her tail around Rava protectively, the large, serpentine appendage curling around her in a possessive, comforting motion. It was a quiet, intimate gesture, one that spoke volumes more than words could. Rava let out a soft, almost imperceptible sound of appreciation, her eyes closing for a moment as she leaned into Vivienne, feeling the weight of the day’s exertions melt away. Vivienne, always attuned to the little things, leaned her head against Rava’s broad shoulder, her breath slow and steady, enjoying the rare moment of peace.
Vivienne felt a soft sigh escape her lips, and she could sense Rava’s muscles slowly unwinding, the tension from earlier in the day slipping away under her protective embrace. A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of Vivienne’s mouth, though she didn’t break the silence. It was enough to just be here, in this fleeting, quiet moment.
"Clear the pot out when you are done. I want a warm meal tonight too." Rava said to Ivor, her voice low but firm, as she slung an arm casually over Vivienne's shoulders. Vivienne leaned into the touch, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked up at the lekine. The warmth of the fire contrasted with the cool air of the evening, the glow from the flames highlighting the glint in Rava’s eyes as she settled more comfortably beside her.
Ivor, who had been quiet for most of the day, stood at the fire, carefully tending to the pot with practiced hands. His gaze flicked over to them, and for a brief second, there was a flicker of something unspoken in his expression. Then, he spoke, breaking the silence that had hung between them for hours.
"Made enough for everyone," Ivor said, his voice deeper than usual, but still steady. "As thanks for the shelter. Neither of us can empower a ward well enough to fend off rain."
The statement was simple, but the way it hung in the air, like an offering, was almost surprising. Vivienne blinked, the words sinking in. She realized this was the most she’d heard from him in one go. Up until now, Ivor had been an enigma—a quiet, stoic figure who preferred to stay to the periphery. But there was something different about his tone now, something almost... personal in the way he expressed his gratitude. His shoulders were tense but not in a defensive way. He wasn’t just speaking because it was necessary; he was acknowledging something deeper, a shared understanding that connected them all.
Vivienne glanced at him, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "Well, I’ll be sure to take you up on that," she said, her voice teasing but soft. Her eyes lingered on the pot of stew, the scent of it making her stomach growl despite the earlier indulgence with the tempest bull. "I might have a little more room for some food, after all."
Rava let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in her chest. “Just don’t eat everything, Viv. I’ll be annoyed if you leave us hungry.” She squeezed Vivienne’s shoulder gently, her fingers brushing against the fabric of Vivienne’s cloak. “You wouldn’t want to risk getting on my bad side.”
Vivienne glanced up at Rava with wide, innocent eyes, batting her lashes dramatically. “Bad side?” She leaned in a little closer, her voice playful. “Oh no, would I need to be punished?”
Rava’s gaze softened, amusement flashing in her eyes, but her tone remained firm. “You’d better behave, or I’ll make you regret it.”
Vivienne let out a soft laugh, the sound sweet and teasing. She leaned back against the ground, crossing her arms behind her head in a comfortable stretch. “But you make it sound so appealing, Rava.”
The tension in the air shifted as Rava tilted her head, considering her words. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Kivvy groaned from the other side of the fire. “Do this later, please,” she said, her voice an exasperated mixture of amusement and mild annoyance.
Vivienne turned her head towards the small goblin, a playful glint still dancing in her eyes. "Oh? Does it bother you when we flirt, Kivvy?" She couldn't help herself, the teasing nature of her words slipping out before she could hold back.
Kivvy rolled her eyes, pulling her knees up to her chest as she turned her attention back to the pot of stew that Ivor was still tending to. She muttered something under her breath, but her words were lost to the crackling of the fire.
Elira, meanwhile, glanced nervously between the bantering pair and Kivvy, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked as if she wanted to say something but ultimately chose to keep her thoughts to herself. Instead, she shifted her weight uncomfortably and began poking at the dirt with a stick, clearly not used to—or particularly fond of—the playful dynamic unfolding around her.
As Rava had predicted, the rain began shortly after. At first, it was just a light drizzle, the soft pattering of droplets hitting the enchanted ward around their camp. But within minutes, the drizzle turned into a torrential downpour, the rain hammering against the barrier with a relentless rhythm.
Vivienne tilted her head back, listening to the rain with a contented smile. “Good call on the ward, Rava. I’d rather not spend the night soaked to the bone.”
Rava gave a curt nod as she glanced skyward. “Just don’t jinx it, Viv.”
While most of the group settled under the protective dome of the ward, Renzia darted toward the canopy of the wagon in a flurry of stiff yet graceful movements. She crouched beneath it as if trying to shield herself from the rain—a curious act, considering the ward had already ensured she wouldn’t get wet.
Kivvy noticed and snickered softly. “Does she even know she’s dry?” she asked, leaning over to Elira, who gave a small shrug.
“I don’t think she does,” Elira replied quietly, watching Renzia with a mixture of amusement and unease. The mannequin seemed entirely preoccupied, her cloth-wrapped frame crouched under the canopy as if she were warding off an unseen storm.
Vivienne chuckled, her tail curling lazily around Rava as she observed the scene. “Maybe she just likes the idea of being tucked away. Feels safe or something.”
Rava glanced toward the wagon, her expression unreadable. “Or it’s just habit. Old instincts die hard, even for her.”
Kivvy furrowed her brow, her earlier amusement giving way to curiosity. “What kind of instincts would someone like her even have?”
“Ones that kept her alive,” Vivienne replied simply, her voice softer than usual. Her black eyes lingered on Renzia for a moment before she turned back to the fire, the playful spark in her tone dimming just a little. “Doesn’t matter what you are. Survival tends to leave its mark.”
Ivor grunted in agreement, his stoic demeanor unchanged as he stirred the stew with deliberate motions. “True enough.”
The rain continued to pour, drumming against the ward in a steady cadence that seemed to lull the group into a temporary quiet. Even the fire seemed subdued, its crackling muted beneath the rhythmic sound of the storm.
Rava leaned back, resting against Vivienne with a contented sigh. “Let her stay under the canopy if it makes her happy,” she said, her voice low and relaxed. “We’ve all got our quirks. No sense in questioning hers.”