Chapter fifteen
The Avatars
Ione
Ishouldhaveknownbetter. Honestly, truly, I should have. That's on me though. A few moments of intimacy and tenderness, gone in seconds because he can't help but be himself. Which then leads me to think that this is on me. It's my fault for thinking that he could be someone else than who he is.
We got into it as I was making artichoke dip. Being comforting without the sass. Giving advice without being condescending. I like the quips and witty remarks. He always has something to say and I adore when it's in defense of me, but when I need a modicum of sweetness? There for a minute and gone in the next.
"I am comforting." He sighs, standing too close behind me to watch what I'm doing. "Not in the sappy way that you would like," He moves my twists off of my neck, his fingers linger on my skin. "Comfort from me comes in the way of a stern lecture and a recognition of self, rabbit."
I don't reply, and he continues to invade my space like it's his way of apologizing. "Can you back up? I can't move around and do anything if you're on my ass."
He narrows his eyes at my wording. "You like the feeling of fullness then?"
Why is everything sexual at the most inopportune time? "Athanasius…"
He smirks, reaching forward with his upper right hand to tap my nose. "Yes, my rabbit?"
"Get out of my damn kitchen."
The doorbell rings and he pops up excitedly. "You are dressed appropriately, and I will introduce you. Stay here, woman."
I wasn't going anywhere. He knows that when I lift my oven mitts.
Honestly, it's kind of cute. I've never seen him this excited. Grabbing the dip from the oven, I set it next to the buffalo wings, and take off the mitts before smoothing down my dress. Why he picked this one is beyond me, but he complimented me in it. The light blue milk maid dress has a floral pattern and a slit that comes up to my left thigh. There's talking at the door, and Athanasius walks back in with 6 people. Well, 3 are humanoid, the other 3 are not.
"Ione," He uses my name, wow. "Come to me."
There's a tick in my brain that wants me to be disobedient. A slight shake in my left foot that wants to ignore him and introduce myself. I realize however, that this might be some sort of display. A level of decorum must be maintained, and so, for now, I will comply.
"Coming, oh great master of the dark." Ok, I lied I had to toss something in there.
Luciara I know and have met before. She chuckles, and Delilah waves at me.
Athanasius breathes heavily, but he takes my hand and holds it up as he directs me to stand in front of him. "This is my avatar, Ione Phaedra Davis."
Athanasius points to his twin. "You already know my twin, the Primordial of Light and Life, Luciara Ethelaris, and her avatar, Delilah."
Am I supposed to curtsy? Instead, I incline my head at Luciara and reach for Delilah's hand. "We've met!" She squeaks. "We hug!" She pulls me into her embrace, are all werewolves stronger than they look? She's a rail thin woman with the strength of a bear.
"This is my sibling, the Primordial of Destiny, Moireth Aevorin."
Moireth stands tall with an androgynous elegance. Smooth, caramel-colored skin gleams faintly under the lights, unmarred save for the intricate runic tattoos that cover them like vines—leaving the neck, forearms, and face untouched. Twin pairs of eyes, each a glowing honey hue, gleam with an inner radiance—one set where eyes would naturally sit, the other nestled just above, framed by dark, arched eyebrows. Their slightly pointed ears give a hint of the otherworldly, while a round, upturned button nose softens the sharp symmetry of their features. When they smile, their teeth are straight and white—save for the pointed incisors, a subtle echo of Athanasius.
Their attire is a refined nod to 1920s menswear, tailored to perfection yet adapted for a form that defies binary understanding. A deep charcoal waistcoat clings to their frame, fastened with brushed brass buttons and worn over a high-collared ivory shirt with crisp cuffs. The slacks they wear drape elegantly down their cervid legs, tailored to accommodate the shape without constraining it, but just short enough to leave their hooved feet exposed—dark, split, and silent upon the ground. Despite the humanoid upper half, their legs curve with graceful, deer-like musculature.
"That is their avatar, Caspian."
Caspian steps forward, masculine and sharply styled. His dark hair is cropped short and immaculately arranged, the kind of cut that lets you know he cares about precision and pride. He wears a collarless ivory shirt that hugs his shoulders just right, tucked neatly into black slacks that sit comfortably along his lean, muscled frame. My type definitely, a man that carries himself well. A golden cuff wraps around the curve of his pierced right ear, glinting in the light as he moves. There’s a scent to him—cedarwood and musk—that makes my mouth water slightly because men who smell like that? Know how move their waist and I am speaking from experience, not desire.
“Well aren’t you a looker?” he says, voice smooth and playful with a posh British accent. “And by the delicious smell in this house, an excellent chef as well.” He winks as he closes the space between us. Gently, he reaches for my hand, fingers warm and careful. “Ione, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He kisses the back of my hand, and I swear I feel the heat rolling off Athanasius's body in waves behind me.
"It's very nice to meet you too." I reply, glancing at Moireth who is still staring at me, there's a smirk on their face. "Hello."
Now I get a full on smile. "Athanasius, we will talk later, but," They take my hand, rubbing soft fingers on my palm. "I like you, you'll be a fun one to watch."
What the hell does that mean? "Thank you?"
