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Elain's voice caught in her throat as she shot up in her hempen napsack. Robbed of blessed dreams, she retroactively scooped and cradled her spell book, not risking that her sudden jolt wasn't caused by an unwanted interloper intruding upon their thicket camp. As the morning's first rays bled through the canopy, the feline squinted; There, still curled up like a lichen patch against a dark boulder, rested her trusty adventuring partner and kobold specialist Rangy, his reptilian face pressed into a puffed cheek of dead-like slumber. Rubbing an eye, her wet nose pushed aside the overwhelming campfire air of faded flame and ash, only for her to suddenly be taunted by a phantom scent: sickly sweet baking, freshly trimmed grass, boiling tea, and a pungent medicinal blend.
"Wh—" Elain arose, readjusting her arcane robes and straightening her frizzled bob of hair with combing cat claws.
Sniffing deeper, she kicked away her grasping tarp as it begged and pleaded for her to remain, but those smells (particularly that potion mix) awakened some memory that could only survive in this fresh-from-dreaming hour. She recalled how it tasted on her lips, the crimson tincture administered by a leering caprine snout, and how she suddenly lost all of her, save the undying wish of her dream and a rush of desire. Then, among licks and squeaks, she—
The mage froze, pushing aside the fervent memory and returning to reality. Blinking, her faded lime irises focused on an unfamiliar stretch of surrounding glen. When did she move so far from camp?
Phantom lights flickered just below her vantage. Tilting down, every hair on her body electrified as, against common warning and tradition, she had unknowingly wandered through a mushroom circle in an already auspicious woods. Worse still (and proving her fears), the faded brown toadstools shimmered with a miasma of pure magic: green, glowing, and gathering with intensity.
Elain's hand dipped to her side, reaching for her spell book once more, readying to—
"You've had quite the adventure away from me."
Not so helpless, Elain flexed her fingers and raised her arms, conjuring a purple-blue haze of magic ready to be shaped and directed at whatever danger might arrive. Devouring monster, robbing vagabond, jeering fairy...only for just that to emerge from the pollen haze of nowhere.
On stilted legs, the dark figure's glowing green eye narrowed with glee, their earthen fur of bark brown and beige shimmering into focus. Two twisting horns, branches wrapped in vines and flowers, crowned the form's head. For a moment, Elain knew him: the man from her dream. As dominating and teasing as she remembered, his goat physique riled against her mind as he...no, where was his trailing facial hair? That captivating musculature? Even his voice: just as guileful in tone, but an octave and some change—higher, wispier.
The details focused, and the changes became apparent. He—She possessed a bush of hair far wilder than the neat and straight masculine tea time persona, riled and unruly fur that bobbed and covered her barren chest, a narrow waist and blossoming hips adorned with tattered cloth robbed of vibrant red, and slim arms and legs just as lengthy as last she saw him...as him. The goat had changed, but this old-new she remained enamored of Elain all the same as she ambled to the mushroom circle's edge. Elain's arms dropped to her side, unraveling her magical force.
"...it's you."
As the conjured magic dimmed with recognition, the satyr grinned, tossing her mass of vine-latched hair as she presented one side of her cheek, then the other.
"I know I'm sans my cozy cloth or nourishing hospitality from the last time we spoke, but I'm glad you recognize me: very keen that my form does not deceive you. Well done, hedgemage. Or, should I say, esteemed wizard?"
Elain took a harrowed step back, eyes trailing from horn to hoof. No doubt this was some trick of the mind; she reached for her spell book, padded thumb running across the securing leather latch.
"Tsk-tsk; no need to so defensive. Did I not provide what you desired? Why, oh why, would you fear—oh what a relishing sensation that is, by the by—me? You have your book, your luck in training, your sudden thrill of adventure: what else could I have provided without hollowing your self-earned victories?"
The dream's aftermath returned: how she awoke in her village sore but content, the strange book perfect for a proper wizard's training, and the sudden need for an arcane master to a down-on-his-luck kobold.
"...that was real?"
Metaxi swooned, reaching forward as if to tear her apart with possessed delight before stopping, and, with a gentle caress, she palmed the underside of Elain's chin.
"Of course it was, my dear. My sweet little wizard. Apple of my immortal eye."
"Y—you gave me the book, and—"
"Nooo, I merely granted it your company. And besides, after our last entanglement, it felt appropriate to reward you. That's what friends do, after all."
Elain's entire journey and rise with arcane tradition hung heavy on her mind, and her shoulders stooped in kind. She spent all those hours learning, training, practicing, and delving, but for what?
"Awww." Metaxi pressed further past Elain's guard, swinging her other hand behind the feline's back. "Do not sour so; I do not lie (except when I do), and to this I say your talents are your own. When you felt yourself stagnant and ignored for your loves and talents, I cursed your mortal world: such fools to suppress and discard earnest love for the arcane. And so I entreated with you, you treated me, and, well, the rest is...a promise."
"A pact," Elain quaked, her limbs numbing with realization.
"Only the most basic kind. Your magic is your own, don't you worry, little wizard."
The cat's hackles failed to lessen.
"Buuut," Metaxi continued, "I have come for a little bit of that promise. You would be kind to oblige me."
Despite the morning chill, Elain's body baked and sweated beneath her dusty traveling attire, and as fear soaked her bones, she straightened her muzzle in a fierce attempt at diplomacy with the otherworldly fey.
"Is that what we—I agreed to?"
"Of course; don't you remember?"
The cat's stomach dropped as, in this moment, she did. Though as the fear gave way to detail, her tail twitched and bent like damaged wire while her lip curled, exhaling defeated groans.
"That we...oh, please, no."
Metaxi laughed, using her already grasping hands to drag the feline close.
"Don't let our mingling unnerve you." The fey's words of comfort did anything but. "Just as was promised; you get to play your games, and I get to play mine. Now join me while the rays still cry for noon!"
For a single morning twilight—an unending, season spanning morning twilight—they performed a fairy dance.
Metaxi and Elain in their fantasy cross-over persona belong to me~ (Allusions to this popular piece that is now technically a prequel.)
Art by the yummy
YaruGreat (god I need to train on expanding my vocabulary again)
"Wh—" Elain arose, readjusting her arcane robes and straightening her frizzled bob of hair with combing cat claws.
Sniffing deeper, she kicked away her grasping tarp as it begged and pleaded for her to remain, but those smells (particularly that potion mix) awakened some memory that could only survive in this fresh-from-dreaming hour. She recalled how it tasted on her lips, the crimson tincture administered by a leering caprine snout, and how she suddenly lost all of her, save the undying wish of her dream and a rush of desire. Then, among licks and squeaks, she—
The mage froze, pushing aside the fervent memory and returning to reality. Blinking, her faded lime irises focused on an unfamiliar stretch of surrounding glen. When did she move so far from camp?
Phantom lights flickered just below her vantage. Tilting down, every hair on her body electrified as, against common warning and tradition, she had unknowingly wandered through a mushroom circle in an already auspicious woods. Worse still (and proving her fears), the faded brown toadstools shimmered with a miasma of pure magic: green, glowing, and gathering with intensity.
Elain's hand dipped to her side, reaching for her spell book once more, readying to—
"You've had quite the adventure away from me."
Not so helpless, Elain flexed her fingers and raised her arms, conjuring a purple-blue haze of magic ready to be shaped and directed at whatever danger might arrive. Devouring monster, robbing vagabond, jeering fairy...only for just that to emerge from the pollen haze of nowhere.
On stilted legs, the dark figure's glowing green eye narrowed with glee, their earthen fur of bark brown and beige shimmering into focus. Two twisting horns, branches wrapped in vines and flowers, crowned the form's head. For a moment, Elain knew him: the man from her dream. As dominating and teasing as she remembered, his goat physique riled against her mind as he...no, where was his trailing facial hair? That captivating musculature? Even his voice: just as guileful in tone, but an octave and some change—higher, wispier.
The details focused, and the changes became apparent. He—She possessed a bush of hair far wilder than the neat and straight masculine tea time persona, riled and unruly fur that bobbed and covered her barren chest, a narrow waist and blossoming hips adorned with tattered cloth robbed of vibrant red, and slim arms and legs just as lengthy as last she saw him...as him. The goat had changed, but this old-new she remained enamored of Elain all the same as she ambled to the mushroom circle's edge. Elain's arms dropped to her side, unraveling her magical force.
"...it's you."
As the conjured magic dimmed with recognition, the satyr grinned, tossing her mass of vine-latched hair as she presented one side of her cheek, then the other.
"I know I'm sans my cozy cloth or nourishing hospitality from the last time we spoke, but I'm glad you recognize me: very keen that my form does not deceive you. Well done, hedgemage. Or, should I say, esteemed wizard?"
Elain took a harrowed step back, eyes trailing from horn to hoof. No doubt this was some trick of the mind; she reached for her spell book, padded thumb running across the securing leather latch.
"Tsk-tsk; no need to so defensive. Did I not provide what you desired? Why, oh why, would you fear—oh what a relishing sensation that is, by the by—me? You have your book, your luck in training, your sudden thrill of adventure: what else could I have provided without hollowing your self-earned victories?"
The dream's aftermath returned: how she awoke in her village sore but content, the strange book perfect for a proper wizard's training, and the sudden need for an arcane master to a down-on-his-luck kobold.
"...that was real?"
Metaxi swooned, reaching forward as if to tear her apart with possessed delight before stopping, and, with a gentle caress, she palmed the underside of Elain's chin.
"Of course it was, my dear. My sweet little wizard. Apple of my immortal eye."
"Y—you gave me the book, and—"
"Nooo, I merely granted it your company. And besides, after our last entanglement, it felt appropriate to reward you. That's what friends do, after all."
Elain's entire journey and rise with arcane tradition hung heavy on her mind, and her shoulders stooped in kind. She spent all those hours learning, training, practicing, and delving, but for what?
"Awww." Metaxi pressed further past Elain's guard, swinging her other hand behind the feline's back. "Do not sour so; I do not lie (except when I do), and to this I say your talents are your own. When you felt yourself stagnant and ignored for your loves and talents, I cursed your mortal world: such fools to suppress and discard earnest love for the arcane. And so I entreated with you, you treated me, and, well, the rest is...a promise."
"A pact," Elain quaked, her limbs numbing with realization.
"Only the most basic kind. Your magic is your own, don't you worry, little wizard."
The cat's hackles failed to lessen.
"Buuut," Metaxi continued, "I have come for a little bit of that promise. You would be kind to oblige me."
Despite the morning chill, Elain's body baked and sweated beneath her dusty traveling attire, and as fear soaked her bones, she straightened her muzzle in a fierce attempt at diplomacy with the otherworldly fey.
"Is that what we—I agreed to?"
"Of course; don't you remember?"
The cat's stomach dropped as, in this moment, she did. Though as the fear gave way to detail, her tail twitched and bent like damaged wire while her lip curled, exhaling defeated groans.
"That we...oh, please, no."
Metaxi laughed, using her already grasping hands to drag the feline close.
"Don't let our mingling unnerve you." The fey's words of comfort did anything but. "Just as was promised; you get to play your games, and I get to play mine. Now join me while the rays still cry for noon!"
For a single morning twilight—an unending, season spanning morning twilight—they performed a fairy dance.
Metaxi and Elain in their fantasy cross-over persona belong to me~ (Allusions to this popular piece that is now technically a prequel.)
Art by the yummy
YaruGreat (god I need to train on expanding my vocabulary again)
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1513 x 2435px
File Size 923.2 kB
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