Recent content by Vyx'aria

At his vow, her lips almost curved toward something resembling a smile. It flickered, subtle, the barest pull at the corner of her mouth before her composure reclaimed its hold, cool and imperious once more. He always said things like that. As if words had weight. As if promises were currency...

When the guards questioned them, Vyx’aria’s stare lingered a moment too long. Then her patience snapped. Without a word, without magic or any weapons, she pivoted and drove her fist straight into the nearest guard’s face. Just a good old-fashioned slug. Bone cracked wetly. The sound carried...

The obsidian square of Zar’Ahal reeked of panic and death. Smoke curled in lazy tendrils through shattered stained glass high above, casting prismatic shadows across the flagstones slick with blood. Elzyrra’s charred crown lay crushed beneath the boot of a panicked guard; the body of the regent...

She descended first, boots finding the worn stone of the stair with practiced ease, one hand trailing along the wall as if to feel the ruin’s breath beneath her palm. The air cooled as they went, damp and metallic, the scent of old water and older magic clinging to every surface. The swamp’s...

Vyx’aria did not hesitate. She climbed first, ascending the ladder with practiced ease, emerging into the shaft above and immediately moving aside to clear space. Her gaze swept the shadows and found Zathria exactly where she expected her to be. A single nod. A hand extended. The potion was...

The embrace surprised her. Not because it startled her, Vyx’aria had felt his movement before it happened, sensed the way his presence closed in with that same unrelenting softness he always carried, but because she didn’t push him away. His arms wrapped around her, and still she stood there...

Vyx’aria slowed only slightly at his words, crimson eyes sliding to him in a long, measuring look. There was no humor in her face, no answering smile, only the cold, appraising stillness of a predator deciding what something was worth. “Do not mistake what is happening here,” she said at last...

No memories? “So,” she said slowly, her voice quiet but precise, “you don’t know who you are....How do you know your name is your name?" The idea hit her with the weight of something visceral. A punishment more cruel than death. To be stripped of all meaning, all connection, all identity...

Vyx’aria slowed to a halt the moment the shimmer of magic disrupted the air between them. But she did not step forward. Her arms folded slowly across her chest, a deliberate motion of control, of assessment. She remained on the threshold of the barrier, unmoving, as her gaze shifted to Ispir...

Vyx’aria listened without interrupting. She watched the way Thraah shrugged, the way the purple stick lived so easily between her fingers, how the smoke altered her voice. Her gaze lingered there longer than strictly necessary, red eyes half-lidded as she took another slow drink. When Thraah...

Vyx’aria remained unbothered by Ispir’s flustered energy as he trailed behind her, the crunch of his uneven footfalls providing a kind of rhythm to the morning. She didn’t glance back, didn’t need to, she could feel the heat radiating off him like he’d stepped into a forge. Instead, she moved...

Vyx’aria watched her the way a predator watched weather roll in, without hurry, without blinking. The purple stick. The smoke curling lazy and thick through the tavern’s haze. The way Thraah’s hands moved when she spoke, animated, restless, heat bleeding off her in visible waves. Yes. She felt...

Her face remained carved from ice as he spoke, crimson eyes fixed on him without warmth, without amusement, only assessment. She let him finish. Let the words hang. Let the swamp answer with its croaking chorus. “Fortune?” she repeated softly. A thin smile touched her lips at last, sharp and...

Vyx’aria’s brows arched so high they nearly vanished beneath her silver strands of hair. Of all the outcomes she might’ve predicted when the bard tripped, even with his hopeless coordination, this had not been one of them. His hands had found their way squarely to her rear, gripping with the...

Vyx’aria did not flinch when his hand closed at her throat. If anything, her pulse betrayed her, quickening beneath his thumb, warm and alive, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous. She held his gaze, unblinking. When he said still yours, the reaction was immediate and...