17 - Beauty (1.48k words)
3rd person POV
Vick shed his tactical gear, revealing the sculpted perfection of his body. He slipped into a pair of black harem pants, leaving his torso bare. The sinuous lines of muscle across his chest and abdomen flowed into a V that pointed down to the leather sash wrapped loosely around his hips.
Turning back to Yaya, Muir noted her quiet acceptance of the breakfast they had prepared, "Is it to your liking?" he inquired, hoping to coax more response from her.
"It serves its purpose," Yaya replied, her voice steady, sounding neither dissatisfied nor pleased.
"..." The lack of overt gratitude did not deter Muir as his gaze shifted back to the field, caught by the spectacle of Vick calling Curtis to spar. "I have yet to witness him embrace his beast form fully. His strength is... it's like nothing I've ever seen before," he mused aloud, more to himself than to Yaya, struck by the raw power oozing out of Vick, who bore no stripes on his body.
Vick's eyes gleamed with a dark mirth. He was not just fighting; he was playing, toying with Curtis in a way that was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
"You're open," Vick taunted, each word followed by a hit that stopped just short of making contact. "And predictable."
Curtis's tail whipped around, a blur of motion aimed at Vick's legs, intending to knock him off balance. "Predict this," he hissed.
But Vick leaped effortlessly, flipping over the sweeping tail, landing behind Curtis. "Impressive," he admitted, "but still not enough."
In a move that was almost too fast to follow, Vick lunged, his hand shaped like a claw, index and middle finger extended like the deadliest of daggers. He aimed not to maim but to demonstrate a vital point: with the precision of a surgeon and the swiftness of a serpent, he halted just a hair's breadth from Curtis's throat, his fingertips grazing the skin with a touch that promised death.
"I could have ended it. Right here, right now," Vick whispered, his voice a sinister caress, "Keep this spot in mind, and make sure to defend it."
Curtis's instincts surged to the forefront. With barely a split second to spare, he twisted his body, his movements guided by instincts.
He evaded Vick's hand. With a sudden, explosive motion, his tail whipped forward, not directly at Vick but towards the ground near his feet, striking with such force that it sent a spray of dirt and debris into the air, aiming to distract and disorient. He didn't wait for the dust to settle and launched forward.
Yaya, meanwhile, remained silent, observing the exchange with an impassive façade. Her beauty truly came into its own when those around her ceased their superficial attempts to engage her interest.
Her silent, enigmatic nature prompted within Muir a desire to bridge the gap and get closer to her.
Her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, were pools of moonlight, deep and expressive. They held a seductive danger, like the call of a siren from the depths, bewitching all who dared meet her gaze.
Every time Yaya's gaze fell upon Muir, he felt a surge of chills, an electric thrill that cascaded down his spine, leaving him momentarily breathless. It was as though he had been singled out by a deity, granted a momentary audience that was both an honor and a test.
Her hair, a cascade of obsidian silk, complemented her enigmatic allure perfectly. Tied back in a ponytail that was both simple and elegant, it suggested a wildness, a sense of freedom that seemed to ripple beneath her composed exterior. This choice of hairstyle, while straightforward, cleverly accentuated the sleek curve of her neck.
The moment Yaya placed the makeshift leaf plate down and began to rise, Muir's senses went into high alert, his body tensing instinctively.
Yaya's simple act of standing up, graceful and fluid, triggered a heightened state of awareness in everyone present.
Vick's sharp gaze suddenly shifted from Curtis to Yaya. The sight of her, ready to depart without them, caused him to cease his offensive stance. Hoisting a sturdy baggage over his shoulder, he swiftly flanked Yaya's side.
Curtis secured another humongous luggage around his neck, and noticed how Yaya avoided his forked tongue with a slight tilt of her head. She didn't offer him a glance; her focus was pinned on the path ahead, "Is she ignoring me again?"
Curtis remembered the times she'd taunt him with her slingshot. But on second thought, he realized it was actually his non-stop staring that nudged her into action. Now that he ceased the 'curious' ogling, she started treating him as if he were just another piece of the scenery, akin to a leaf yearning for the briefest touch against her cheek.
"That's just her auto mode. She's hyper-aware of her surroundings and won't waste her energy on something that's no longer a threat to her. It's frustrating sometimes when she..." Vick clenched his hand, the muscles in his forearm flexing subtly, "treats you like you are invisible to her...like you don't matter in her world," he finished, a faint shadow of frustration crossing his handsome face.
Despite Yaya's vibe of "approach at your own risk," they couldn't help but flock around her like moths to a flame. The reason? Beyond her striking beauty, Yaya had this cool, unbothered air of someone who could probably wrestle a dragon before breakfast and not bother to mention it.
"How do you usually deal with the unwanted attention in the cities?" Muir finally asked. Yaya only ever showed up in the villages during the night, so one couldn't get a good view of her tactical gear and her striking features. Now, about to enter a village during the day, even Vick put on local clothes to blend in.
"Give me the clothes you two had tailored for me," Yaya suddenly requested as they approached the outskirts of Camel Hump Valley. She didn't want to wear down her combat gear and boots in safer areas, especially after she had scouted them. "I would have tailored an outfit myself, but since it's already done, I'll honor your effort."
Muir caught Curtis and Vick with their jaws practically hitting the ground in shock. Despite her favored activity of turning them into her personal punching bags whenever they invaded her personal space, Yaya never once asked for a favor, help, or even a simple "pass the salt" at dinner. It was as if her motto was "Keep to Yourself or Face My Wrath," and she was living by it fiercely.
Curtis, momentarily caught off guard by her abrupt request, quickly recovered. He unloaded his luggage to reveal the attire he and Vick had meticulously prepared: black harem pants paired with a sleeveless crop top, alongside a set of leather shoes.
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Vick's intuitive grasp of Yaya's measures was like second nature to him, a skill refined through years of close encounters, whether it was through touch or combat.
The harem pants, crafted from a material similar to Muir's cloak, draped effortlessly around her legs. Despite their loose fit, they hugged her form in the waist and ankles without restricting her agility. With every fluid motion, the pants seemed to come alive, swaying with the grace of a dancer and the strength of a warrior.
The neckline of the sleeveless crop top elegantly enveloped Yaya's neck while the durable yet flexible fabric hugged her torso snugly. Her machetes were strapped to her back, hidden under a cloak, and her basic equipment was tucked inside a sash around her hips.
Muir's eyes widened in shock when the familiar scent surrounding Vick suddenly shifted, no longer carrying the unmistakable aura of a feral beastman. Instead, it bore the more subdued scent typical of a regular beastman.
╔═══ Author's note ════╗
Is anyone curious about Vick's Beastman form? He is not a mythical creature like a dragon or anything of the sort.
I can't wait for a moment when Yaya begins to actually like her mates and the unique way she'll start expressing her "affection" for them. Imagine their shock and reactions. 🤣
Yaya's POV never dwelled on her own looks. She recognizes her attractiveness but doesn't obsess over it, knowing well that it could be marred by scars and bruises from battles.
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