Story

[hsavinien]

Story fragment from a role-play I'm a member of.  
Anja Kyran is my character--a werewolf.  Alija is a human boy she adopted/keeps as a pet  The Rykel Pack is a small group of other werewolves with whom her company has joined up.  The company includes Equitis, Kyrios (a lady Knight who has been kidnapped by the Chaos goddess Aerallia), and Cay (who has been approached several times by a Luck Goddess who wants him to become her follower.  Said goddess appears as a pre-pubescent girl and is decidedly asexual in her approach.) among others.  Note: Werewolves--in this universe--are pretty much bisexual.

Title: Anja's Dream (crappy, but works)
Author: H.Savinien
Rating: PG-13 for implications
Warning: femmeslash, mention of het
Comments and critiques always appreciated.

Anja dossed Alija down with the Rykel Pack and slipped away from them, stopping to grab a canteen of Equitis’ cider from the mess hall.  She climbed the rigging, hoisted herself into the crow’s nest, and settled there.  A sentry from earlier in the day had left his blanket up there, so Anja wrapped herself in it and leaned back against the wood, gazing up at the stars.  The sky was clear and sharp with cold.  She took a long swallow of the cider, coughing a little as the alcohol burned a hot line down her throat.

It had been a while.  Anja hadn’t had a drink since…since the night before she’d first met the others—the anniversary of the day she was snatched across worlds, away from her home and family.

An interesting month she’d had; so different from the last seven (increasingly hopeless) years.  She had friends again, who were good at taking care of themselves, thanks be.  (Despite Kyrios’ loss.  They would get her back from that schutta-hearted…female-who-called-herself-a-goddess.)  Anja had her pet darling boy who she’d protect to the last of her strength and power so she could plant him safely at home and watch him grow.  She even had a small surrogate Pack, with a handsome, quiet Alpha who had expressed his interest politely and not brought the matter up since.

Anja shifted, frowning a bit and taking another drink.  He could have followed her tonight—to talk and think.  She could smell his interest, since she knew to look for it.  She shook her head, savoring another mouthful of the excellent cider.  It was a good thing weres had more control over their sexuality than their animal counterparts.  Her last bedmate had been over a year ago—a sweet-voiced blacksmith who laughed the first time she kissed him and loved to trail his fingers behind her ears.  Elin was a good man and they’d parted amicably when she left his little town after a few months, taking a guard job with a merchants’ caravan.

Anja blinked sleepily, smiled, and managed to close the canteen clumsily before drifting off, wrapped in the stillness of the night.

She was warm, skin tickling faintly all down her back from the soft moss she stretched out on.  She could hear a stream in the distance and smell the vivid green of new plant life.  It smelled like home, almost, with a warmer tang of sunlight than home ever saw, curling into her senses like the scent of oiled steel.  Anja stretched lazily, relishing the sun’s heat stroking along bare skin.  She shivered happily, blinking her eyes slowly open to examine her surroundings.  They were…green—as green as the smells she absorbed with every breath.  Tall trees spread a canopy of leaves over vibrant moss.  She had been lying in a little hollow, perfectly shaped to hold a curled wolf or human.  Leaves rustled in the distance and the smell of mist—like rain in motion, sharp in the sun-tang—approached, slipping through the green.  Anja looked toward the scent.

A woman, dark-eyed and dark-haired, smiled down at the seated were, her bare feet treading fearlessly across the moss.  Anja looked her over frankly, breath catching a little.

Her dark hair was caught in a loose tail at her shoulders, her face narrow and gentle and her smile comforting.  Her grey robe, shifting to pale green before Anja’s eyes, fluttered about her legs and implied a lean, strong figure.  She knelt in front of Anja in one smooth, darting movement and tipped the were’s chin up with a cool finger that scorched contrast with the warm air.

Anja breathed deeply, taking in the scent of mist, a deeper green of old forests underlying that, and a just a tinge of desire.  Not False, her mind registered faintly, before careful lips met hers for a brief instant, burning a more fiery streak of warmth inside her than the alcohol had.

“Lady,” Anja breathed as the woman—goddess—pulled back with a sigh, mouth quirking into a smile with just a bit of mischief in it.

She blinked at Anja, sidelong.  “Home-lost wolfling.”

“Who are you?”

“Aislia,” she replied, voice calm and soothing.  “I am the Goddess of Dreams, though the upstart Aerallia has usurped my place with you on some occasions.”
Anja nodded, remembering the poisoned hallucinations Aerallia had put into her head.  “And…what do you wish, Lady?”

Aislia laughed, fingers tracing down Anja’s throat to her collarbone.  “You.”

The werewolf blinked, barely managing a coherent thought—Like Cay and that Luck Goddess…well, not exactly like…—before the goddess claimed her complete attention.