3rd person POV
Vick stripped off his tactical gear, his toned body revealed beneath it. Black harem pants slid on easily, leaving his torso bare. The muscles across his chest and abdomen formed a defined V, leading down to the leather sash hanging 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.
"You're open," Vick teased, landing a blow that stopped just short of Curtis's chest. "Predictable."
Curtis's tail lashed out, quick as lightning. "Predict this," he hissed.
Vick didn't even flinch. He flipped effortlessly over the tail, landing behind Curtis with ease. "Impressive," he acknowledged, but the challenge in his eyes made it clear: not nearly enough.
Without warning, Vick was on the move again. His hand shot out, fingers extended like claws, stopping a mere inch from Curtis's throat.
"I could've ended it," Vick whispered, his voice low, "right here, right now. Remember where I could have struck. Defend it."
Curtis didn't hesitate. Instincts took over. He twisted, dodging the strike, and, in one swift motion, whipped his tail toward the ground near Vick's feet. The impact sent dirt and debris flying, blinding Vick for a moment. Curtis didn't wait for the dust to clear. He surged forward, making his move.
All the while, Yaya stood by, watching with an unreadable expression. There was a kind of quiet strength in her detachment. She didn't need to engage to draw attention; in fact, it was when others gave up trying to capture her focus that her true presence seemed to emerge.
Her silent, enigmatic nature prompted within Muir a desire to bridge the gap and get closer to her.
Her eyes, framed by dark lashes, were deep and haunting ─ like pools of fading light. They held a quiet, unsettling intensity, drawing anyone who met them into a quiet, oppressive kind of trance.
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 deep, inky black, fell around her face in heavy strands, sharp and untamed. Pulled back into a simple ponytail, it hid the restlessness beneath her still surface ─ a quiet chaos, waiting to surge. The sharp curve of her neck was the only soft thing about her, a cruel contrast to the intensity that radiated from her every movement.
The moment Yaya placed the makeshift leaf plate down and began to rise, Muir's senses went into high alert, his body tensing instinctively.
Her simple act of standing triggered a shift in the atmosphere. Everyone present felt it ─ like the calm before a storm, unsettling.
Vick's gaze flickered from Curtis to Yaya. Seeing her prepare to leave without a word, he stopped mid-motion. Without hesitation, he hoisted his bag and fell into step beside her.
Curtis tightened his grip on the massive luggage around his neck. He caught the way Yaya tilted her head slightly, skillfully avoiding his gaze. She didn't acknowledge him; her focus remained ahead. "Is she ignoring me again?"
He 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 ─ like a leaf brushing her cheek, unnoticed, fleeting.
"That's just her default 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 face.
Despite Yaya's vibe of "approach at your own risk," they couldn't help but flock around her. It wasn't just her looks ─ it was the way she carried herself. Detached. Untouchable. Like she could take down a dragon before breakfast and still not care to mention it.
Muir finally broke the silence. "How do you deal with the attention in the cities?" he asked. Yaya usually appeared only at night, hiding her gear and striking features under the cover of darkness. But now, they were close to Camel Hump Valley, and even Vick had swapped into 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 your distance, or deal with the consequences," and she was living by it fiercely.
Curtis recovered quickly. He set down his heavy pack and pulled out the clothes he and Vick had prepared: black harem pants, a sleeveless crop top, and leather shoes.
Vick knew her measurements by heart. Years of close calls, sparring, and the occasional unintended touch had made it second nature. He didn't have to think about it anymore; Yaya's movements, the way she held herself, all of it was familiar.
The harem pants hung loosely around her legs, but they still hugged her waist and ankles just right. With every step, they seemed to shift effortlessly, flowing with her like she was part of the movement itself.
The crop top wrapped around her neck, the fabric clinging comfortably to her torso. Simple, functional. Her machetes were hidden beneath the cloak, and everything else she needed was tucked into the sash at her hips.
Muir's attention snapped to Vick as the air around him changed, no longer carrying the unmistakable aura of a feral beastman. Instead, he 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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