Eryshae

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Vael
Ocean City

Dawn painted the sky in strokes of rose gold and bruised lavender as the creaking carriage rolled along the worn salt-road. The sway of it was rhythmic, almost hypnotic; enough to lull Vael in and out of half-sleep. Her head had dropped once already to Sam's shoulder, and she felt the memory of it lingering warm in her skin even though she sat upright now, eyes fixed on the growing shimmer ahead.

Darc Malrick clicked his tongue gently, the reins twitching in his gloved hands as the two raccoon mounts plodded forward, their fur mottled silver and smoke, their thick tails swaying with the ease of long travel. Their chittering had quieted hours ago, as if even they respected the hush of a rising sun.

Sam shifted beside her, his breath low and even; not quite asleep, but close. He had that stillness when resting, even after burning down the Inn. Vael let her gaze linger on his profile for a moment, on the sharp line of his jaw softened by exhaustion, the faint bruising beneath his eyes. The early light made him look unreal, like a statue carved from old gold and ash.

The carriage jolted slightly as they crested a shallow ridge, and Malrick gave a quiet, triumphant hum. "There," he said. "Look sharp." Vael leaned forward, brushing the curtain aside, and her breath caught.

The bridge to Ocean City unfolded in the distance like a dream too bright to be real. Arched high over glimmering tidewater, its pale stonework shimmered with veins of embedded sea-glass and salt-marble. The entire expanse seemed to catch the morning sun and scatter it in prisms across the water below, as if the sea itself had been shattered and reassembled into a passage for gods and ghosts.

It stretched across the inlet like a spine of pearl; elegant, precarious, alive. The gulls spiraled around its towers, and down beneath, Vael could make out the broken hulls of older bridges swallowed by time and tide, their remnants clinging like barnacles to the past. Sam stirred again. "We're here?"

"Almost," Vael whispered. "It's... beautiful." He sat up straighter, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and followed her gaze. "Hmph," he muttered. "Looks expensive." Vael smiled faintly. "Everything here probably is."

The scent of salt was stronger now, mingling with the perfume of kelp and old coin, and something faintly sweet; taffy or candied seafoam wafting from unseen vendors. The wind picked up, lashing her braid gently against her shoulder as the raccoons trotted toward the first gatehouse.

She adjusted her posture as they neared the outer wall of Ocean City, a practiced curve to her spine, a slight tilt of her chin; not too much, not yet. But enough to meet the gaze of the gate warden without flinching. Malrick glanced back from the driver's bench, his grin all fox-like teeth. "Ready for a little luxury?" Vael laughed softly, but there was iron under it. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The bridge loomed closer, and with it, a slow parade of wagons, skiffs-on-wheels, and velvet-topped carriages trickling into a narrowing line. The road funneled into a single lane, its edges warded with flickering coastal runes that shimmered like fish scales in the sunlight. A merchant cart stacked with baskets of dried shrimp rattled ahead of them, its mount a squat, lumbering pangaroo that huffed at every pause.

Malrick sighed, reins loose in his hands. "Should've taken the tideway barge," he muttered. "But nooo, someone said we'd want to 'see the city arrive slowly.'" The line of traffic shifted a few paces forward. The raccoons chittered irritably, claws tapping against the stone. Vael leaned back and let her head rest against the velvet-padded carriage wall, but her mind was already drifting.

The Drowned Heron Inn had reeked of mildew and old breath, but the Reflection; that woman, or whatever wore her skin; had not belonged in that world. She had been too graceful, too knowing. Her black eyes had been filled with the deep, slow patience of the sea... and something hungrier than curiosity. "You see her, don't you? Even when you close your eyes."

Vael had laughed it off at the time, but afterward, she couldn't stop catching glimpses of herself that weren't quite right; in rain puddles, in the bathwater, once even in Sam's eyes when he looked away too quickly. And then there was the mirror.

It had gone missing immediately and no amount of searching turned it up. The handle had been carved in the shape of an open mouth, fanged, its tongue forming the curve of the grip. The reflective surface was cracked at the edge, but instead of fracturing the image, it seemed to shimmer beneath, like something was swimming beneath her own face. She huffed, straightening. "We're just not moving. My brain gets bored." He snorted faintly. "Well, tell it to stay bored. We've got an entire city of distractions coming." Vael frowned, her mind wandered to the events of earlier this morning.

The carriage wheels crunched over the frost-hardened dirt, the morning mist clinging stubbornly to the cobbles. The orphanage loomed ahead; a squat stone building with smoke curling from its crooked chimney and faded blue paint peeling from its shutters. Sam hopped down first, stretching his back before glancing up at the boy still sitting in the carriage bed. The child clutched the small bundle of belongings they'd gathered for him, knuckles white around the worn blanket.

"It's not much," Sam said gently, holding out a hand, "but it's a place where you can start fresh." The boy's eyes darted to Vael. She stood at the side of the wagon, her hair damp from the morning fog, a faint smile softening her usual steel. "They'll take care of you here," she said, her voice quieter than Sam had heard in days. "Better than that stable ever did."

The boy hesitated; then Malrick stepped forward, his hulking frame shadowing the wagon. "You'll be fine," he said gruffly. "These walls may be plain, but they're strong. Sometimes that's all you need to grow." Reluctantly, the boy took Sam's hand and slid to the ground. Together, they crossed to the door. Sam knocked, and after a moment, a kindly woman in a patched shawl opened it, eyes bright despite her tired smile.

"Come in, little one," she said, kneeling to the boy's height. "You're safe here." Sam watched him go, his bundle oddly shaped, clutched close, until the door closed. A strange silence fell. Vael's gaze lingered on the door, unreadable. "You think he'll make it?"

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Sam exhaled slowly, hands in his pockets. "He has a better chance here than anywhere else." Malrick said nothing; just turned back toward the wagon, as though the boy's fate was already out of their hands. The mist swallowed their footsteps as they left, the sound of the orphanage door bolt sliding home lingering in Sam's ears.

The carriage inched forward again, barely a wagon's length. Malrick muttered something under his breath about gullshit bureaucracy and flicked the reins. The raccoons yawned in protest. Vael exhaled slowly and let her head fall to the side, bumping against Sam's shoulder. "We'll be here until moonrise at this rate."

"Worse ways to spend a morning," Sam replied, tipping his head against hers. There was a quiet beat between them; not heavy, just waiting. Then, he shifted and said, "We could pass the time."

She arched her brow without lifting her head. "Are you suggesting a duel? A footrace? A steamy distraction?"

"Tempting," he said. "But I was thinking something more childish."

"Go on."

"I spy."

Vael blinked. "You want to play I Spy?" Sam shrugged. "Unless you'd rather keep brooding about and staring into nothing." The queue of wagons stretched along the bridge like a scab that wouldn't heal. Hooves clattered, a hawker shouted, gulls wheeled overhead and screamed. Heat rose from the river, carrying with it the brackish stink of low tide and old fish.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. You start."He straightened slightly and looked out the window. "I spy with my little eye… something yellow." Vael scanned the traffic. "The sun?"

"No."

"The canary in the cage on that minstrel's shoulder?"

"Tempting, but no." She followed his gaze. "Ah. The merchant's robe. The one shaped like a lemon slice."

"Correct," he said with a slight grin. "Your turn." Malrick snorted at their laughter, muttering something about "children's games" as he tugged the reins. The raccoons ignored him, tails twitching like pompoms of disdain. Vael leaned out the window a bit, then smirked. "I spy with my little eye… something twitchy." Sam's brow furrowed. "Twitchy?"

"Mhm."

"…The raccoons' ears?"

"No." He leaned across her to peer outside. "Is it that noble's mustache? Gods, it's practically vibrating." Vael laughed. "You got it." He chuckled and nodded. "All right. I spy with my little eye… something broken." Her breath caught for a split second. Then she smiled, light and cool. "The cracked wheel on that peddler's cart?"

"That was the safe answer," he murmured. Her eyes flicked to him, but she said nothing. Not yet. "My turn," she said, her tone turning coy. "I spy with my little eye… something hidden." Sam's gaze didn't waver from hers. "Vael." She smirked and looked away, feigning innocence. "I meant the false-bottom crate in the back of that spice wagon," she added.

"Mm-hm," Sam said. "Of course you did." Their eyes met again in the hush between carts, the bridge beneath them groaning faintly as the tide surged below. The pressure of her shoulder against his, the way the carriage rocks, and the muffled clatter of hooves growing distant for a moment. And though neither of them said it, they both knew who had truly won that round.

The carriage rocked gently again, the line nudging forward by a single cart-length. Seagulls cawed overhead, circling lazily on the salt-drenched breeze. Malrick yawned from the driver's seat and tapped the reins with little effect.

Sam tipped his head, one brow raised. "Final round?" Vael leaned her cheek against her knuckles and hummed. "Go on, then. Impress me." Sam glanced around lazily, then smirked. "I spy with my little eye… something I want." Vael's lips parted with amusement. "That's not a color or a shape."

"It's still valid." She rolled her eyes, playing along. "The saltwater taffy?"
"No."

"The absurdly overpriced sailboat docked beneath the bridge?"

"Tempting," he murmured, his voice dipping low. "But no." She leaned in, eyebrow cocked. "What, then?" Sam didn't answer with words. Instead, as the carriage creaked forward again, he turned to her and kissed her; slowly, deliberately; his hand slipping behind her neck, thumb brushing along her jaw. The sigh she let out wasn't surprising. It was permission. His mouth deepened the kiss before he spoke again, breath against her lips.

"You." The word struck her like a current under still water. Her pulse quickened. Their lips met again, this time with heat, and he didn't waste time. With a steady hand, Sam shifted her, guiding her to her back across the padded bench. The satchel thudded softly to the floor. The thick velvet curtains of the carriage were already drawn, shadows hemming them in.

Vael exhaled, her thighs tightening instinctively as he lifted her hips; not roughly, but with the firm reverence of someone who had thought about this too long. His hands gripped her just beneath the bend of her knees, spreading her legs with slow intention. She let her head fall back, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. "Someone will see," she whispered, though the carriage was closed, the world muffled by gull cries and wood wheels.

Sam leaned over her, his voice a quiet growl in her ear. "Let them guess." Outside, the raccoons huffed and plodded. The bridge's white stone gleamed beneath the rising sun. But within the velvet-draped carriage, the world narrowed to breath and heartbeat, to the gravity that always pulled them back to each other — sharp as longing, warm as the tide.

⚠️ Content Warning: The following scene includes explicit sexual content intended for mature audiences.

Vael's breath hitched as Sam's hands held her open; not rough, not rushed, but like he meant for her to feel every inch of his attention. The velvet cushion beneath her hips cradled her, her back arching slightly in response to the cool air brushing between her thighs. The carriage swayed forward again, slow and lazy. A distant gull called. The world felt distant, as if it had been shut outside.

Sam knelt between her legs, broad shoulders braced as if anchoring her to this moment. "I haven't stopped thinking about this," he said, low, voice more gravel than words. "Since that night in Ichi. Since the bathhouse. Since before I should've." She shivered, but her voice stayed steady. "Then stop talking and taste me." His mouth curved. "Gladly."

He bent lower and dragged his lips down the inside of her thigh, slow as the tide pulled away from shore. His stubble scratched in the most maddening way; just enough to make her hips twitch. His breath brushed over her skin as he kissed his way inward, toward the ache he had stoked. When his tongue finally met her, it was hot and deliberate.

Vael gasped, her hands shooting up to grip the bench's edge. He was thorough; slow and cruel and hungry; each flick of his tongue a question and an answer, each pause an invitation for her to beg. He mapped her like he meant to remember it, like no one else ever would. She reached down blindly, her fingers tangling in his hair, needing something to hold onto as he devoured her with maddening control. He groaned softly against her, the sound vibrating through her as if he took just as much pleasure from giving it.

"Sam;" she breathed, a plea or a curse or both. He looked up for just a second, eyes dark and wicked, lips glistening. "Don't hold back." And she didn't. As his tongue worked deeper and his lips closed around her, Vael cried out; softly, but without shame. Her body rose toward him, chasing each wave he gave her, thighs trembling as he pulled her over the edge with a firm, perfect final press.

The world shattered like sea-glass in sunlight.

She slumped back, boneless, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven rhythm. Sam kissed the inside of her thigh again, softer now, reverent. Then he sat up slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if he hadn't just brought a storm into still water. Vael blinked through the haze, her voice rough. "We're definitely getting pulled aside at the gate." Sam chuckled, deep and smug. "I'll let you do the talking. You look flushed enough to be diplomatic."