A Peaceful Place, A Growing Grove

The sound of calmly flowing water fills the air, soft and subdued despite just how many little waterfalls and streams trickle through this section of the cave. A pleasantly warm breeze blows between ferns, trees, and shrubberies, adding the faint rustling of leaves to that relaxing background noise.

“My dearest love?” The Dryad lifts her head, a tender and almost teasing smile already playing at her verdant lips. Lively rays of light filter through the canopy above, caressing across this tanned tomboy’s bare body and bathing her caramel coloured skin in a healthy glow. “Fer wha’ do Ah owe ya the pleasure~?”

Soft soil, left bare and packed into a comfortably padded path, rests beneath Krvavy’s inhuman feet. She hardly made a noise while walking along it, not stepping on a single twig or crunchy leaf. Yet it isn’t a surprise that the former Wood Elf woman heard her coming. Not with those long and pointed ears of hers, wiggling with joy as they stretch out from the aesthetically messy bark-brown hair that vaguely reaches down to her chin, some parts shorter and some parts longer.

Of course, the fact that this is Beryl’s grove definitely helps as well. The whole place is an extension of her will. It is just as much a part of the Dryad as those little blue flowers growing atop her cute, branch-like antlers.

“Do I need a reason to visit you~?” Krvavy affectionately asks, passing beneath the hanging bough of a decently large tree without needing to duck beneath it. In fact, none of the branches that reach across these meandering paths are low enough for the Drakling to even be concerned about bumping her head or horns on. A consideration that causes her heart to happily flutter.

Moss and grass alike squishes beneath the Drakling’s feet as she steps off the path, stopping at the edge of a gently flowing stream. The water is crystal clear, perfectly showing off the smooth riverbed below, yet it still glows with the restorative warmth of the hot spring it is fed by.

“A reason beyond just a whim~? Normally, Ah’d say ‘no’. But...” Beryl leans back into the trunk of a rather ordinary tree, her long legs crossed in a way that naturally draws the eye down her tight tummy and towards the wonderful mark that rests above her green-tinged pussy. Which may well be intentional, considering who she is. “Our Inanna ‘as been keepin’ ya quite busy as o’ late. And she’s given me a fair bit o’ work as well.”

Various pieces of purposefully sculpted wood litter the ground between Beryl and the barbarian. They all seem to have their specific spots, having been arranged alongside other identical parts and not simply scattered about at random.

“Ah’ve got ta make those wa’erwheels fer ‘er, after all. Two bigger versions o’ this lil’ one we mocked up.” The tanned tomboy lifts a little wooden model into the air, rolling the axle between her fingers to give it a bit of a spin. “Would be easier ta make it as one whole piece, but if yer Dwarf wants ta treat it like a puzzle...” She softly shakes her head. “Anyway, Ah figured Inanna might ‘ave sent ya ta check up on me, ta see ‘ow close Ah am ta actually bein’ done. Am Ah right?”

“Nope.” The Drakling really makes sure to let the ‘p’ sound pop. “I’m here all by my own choice. Because I wanted to come and spend some time with my sweet berry~.”

“Ahh... Ah see.” A playful sheen shimmers across the black pools of Beryl’s eyes. “She’s makin’ ya take a break, aye~?”

“Well, yeah, that too.” Krvavy clicks her tongue, playing up her annoyance for just a moment. “But, out of all my girls, I still chose to visit you~.”

Love and affection absolutely oozes from Beryl’s bright, beaming smile. “And Ah’m flattered, truly~.” She passes the model waterwheel off to one of her vines, which in turn moves it out of the way, before invitingly patting the ground beside her. More soft moss sprouts beneath her touch, forming a padded cushion between the roots of the tree she is leaning back against. “But if this is supposed ta be yer break, then ya should relax~. So come on over ‘ere, my dearest love, and sit next ta me~.”

Wasting no time, Krvavy steps across the small stream and carefully walks through the organized mess of waterwheel parts.

One of the Dryad’s vines grabs onto the tip of her Draconic lover’s tail, guiding it behind her back as Krvavy settles down beside her. Said tail soon twists and curls around this tanned tomboy’s trim waist. Their hips bump together, a caramel coloured thigh coming to rest atop one of pale skin and black scales.

The barbarian isn’t exactly bulky, but beside Beryl... Her lithe, Elvish lover is just so slim. And that makes the tomboy feel so small despite her actually being decently tall. Just not compared to Krvavy.

Without needing to be encouraged, the Drakling drapes a strong arm over her Dryad’s shoulders, pulling the wonderful woman that was once nothing more than a mere Wood Elf so fully into her embrace.

A comfortable quiet hangs in the air as Beryl rests her cheek atop her barbaric lover’s bosom, long and pointed ear pressed flat above a happily beating heart.

Krvavy tries to return that gesture, wanting nothing more in this moment than to nuzzle into this brunette’s bark-brown hair, but she can’t quite do that. Very, very close to her face stands one of Beryl’s branch-like antlers, that cute addition to her Dryad serving as a much greater obstacle than her own chunky horns usually are.

Still, that minor inconvenience isn’t anywhere near enough to spoil this moment. Warmth flows through the barbarian’s very being as she cuddles with her sweet berry, letting all thoughts and worries that she can’t help but harbour fade from her mind as she gives in and relaxes. Her emerald eyes slowly grow heavy, drooping down and –

On fluttering wings, a butterfly lands atop Beryl’s cute antler. Hardly a hairsbreadth from Krvavy’s face.

That little bug is... beautiful. Above eyes like polished beads of onyx, the rounded tips of its twitching antenna pulse softly with a turquoise light. The thin straw of its proboscis unfurls, dipping into the blue flower it landed beside, drinking whatever nectar may be in there. Its body is twiggy in a literal sense, not quite thin but a rich brown colour and textured like the bark of a young tree. Much like its antenna, a turquoise glow shines from the end of its abdomen.

But all of that pales in comparison to the most eye-catching part of this butterfly. The wings. They are simple, their pattern not too complex, yet still so stunning. A mixture of turquoise, cyan, and teal swirls across the thin and waxy surface of those wings, illuminated by an inner bioluminescence.

“I see you’ve brought some more life into your grove~...” The barbarian barely breathes, her voice so quiet that it is hardly even audible.

“Hmm...?”

“There is a butterfly on your antler~...” A peaceful smile plays at Krvavy’s lips as she watches that beautiful bug. It doesn’t seem bothered by her voice, quiet as she is. “And it is having a sip from one of your flowers~...”

“Oh...?” Beryl slowly lifts a hand up, holding out a single finger. The butterfly steps onto the slightly wood grain texture of her skin. She delicately brings it down in front of her own face. “Oh. Ah didn’t bring this in ‘ere.”

“So it just showed up on its own...?”

The Dryad raises her other hand, gently petting that bug atop its tiny head. “In a way, aye. In fact, it isn’t even a butterfly. See?” With absolutely no warning, she flicks that poor little thing right in its face, causing it to... scatter out into motes of blue-green light...?

“Huh?” The barbarian blankly blinks as those little glowing specks twinkle and slowly float back together, the ‘butterfly’ reforming as it was only a few seconds ago. It does not seem to care that Beryl had just ‘killed’ it, remaining quite comfortably perched atop the same dexterous finger it stood on before.

“Ah’m not entirely sure where this pretty little thing came from.” Beryl admits, slowly turning her hand side to side just so that she can look at that clearly magical thing from different angles. “But Ah think it might be a leaf from my tree.”

Krvavy narrows her eyes and stares intently at that bug. The body that looks like it is made out of smooth bark... Those twiggy legs... The fact that its wings, antenna, and butt all shimmer and shine the same blue-green shades that Beryl’s mana seems to manifest as... “Yeah, I can see that.”

The tanned tomboy’s finger twitches, lightly flicking upwards and encouraging that magical butterfly to return to the air. Which is exactly what it does, dancing through the soft sunbeams and almost leaving a trail of light as it passes through the shade.

“So did it just... stand up and decide to fly around?” Krvavy curiously questions, watching that odd bug aimlessly flutter away, eventually losing sight of it behind the many trees that fill her Dryad’s grove.

“Ah don’t know.” Beryl softly shrugs her shoulders. “Ah didn’t see it ‘appen myself, but... maybe?” Her nimble fingers idly grab at the Draconic tail resting around her waist, giving it a tug and pulling the meaty thing into a tight hug. “Tha’ wasn’t the only one, by the way. There are a few o’ them around ‘ere. And Ah guess more will appear as time goes on...?”

“You’re not sure about something your own powers brought into existence~?” Krvavy playfully teases, emerald eyes gleaming with joy “Thea would have some pointed things to say about that, I’m sure~.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, my dearest love.” The tomboyish Dryad shakes her head and turns to looks up at the Drakling she is cuddling so closely with. Only to scrape her branch-like antler across Krvavy’s cheek and chin. “Oh!” A rather mortified look fills her face. “Ah’m sorry! Ah–!”

Rather abruptly, Beryl cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. The black pools of her eyes glow a bright blue-green.

Those cute antlers of hers shrink, sinking beneath her rich brunette locks and completely disappearing in just a matter of moments. She could go further, fully returning her appearance back to that of the Woof Elf she used to be, but... Beryl stops there. The flowers that sprout from between the soft strands of her hair remain, as do the rest of her Dryadic features, from the leaf-green colour of her lips and nipples to the wood grain texture that decorates the caramel skin below her elbows and knees.

“Hahh... There. Tha’ is better...” The supernatural light in Beryl’s eyes fades away as they return to their new normal, scleras black and iris’ darkened near to the point of being completely hidden. Her brow furrows quite sternly. “My dearest love, ya should’a told me tha’ Ah was near ta pokin’ yer eyes out!”

“I’m fine~...” The barbarian breezily reassures. The arm that she has draped over this tanned tomboy’s shoulder pulls in just a bit tighter, her fingers stretching out to cup her sweet berry’s cheek. “My base armour would have kept you from actually hurting me~.”

“Ach...! No it wouldn’t’ve!” Beryl bristles, grabbing at her Draconic lover’s wrist. Though she doesn’t pull that hand away. Instead, she forces it to stay. “Ah bypass tha’, remember?! Because o’ my Dryadic Ascension!”

Krvavy just shrugs at that. “Alright, well... It wouldn’t have been pleasant, but I could have just flinched out of the way. It’s not like the back of my head is pressed against this tree, or anything.”

Beryl looks less than impressed with that response. She simply sighs, shifting slightly within her lover’s embrace as she returns her head to its rightful place atop Krvavy’s chest. A subdued smile dances across the Dryad’s face as she nuzzles into the hand that she has all but **** to keep cupping her cheek. As payment for that little scare, no doubt.

The barbarian lets that happen, of course. The corners of her lips slowly curl upwards as she sits back and simply enjoys the wonderfully peaceful feeling of holding her fiancée so close. She takes a long, deep breath. In and then out again. In and out...

A soft, dreamlike haze hangs in the air.

Everything here is so... so vibrant. The grasses, mosses, vines, leaves, ferns... So many different shades of lush green fill this grove, most leaning a bit more towards blue though some do have a yellowish hue. Sturdy pillars hold up the verdant canopy, each trunk its own shade of rich and fertile brown. Then there are the flowers, blossoming across creeping ivy and blooming along the ground... Those delicate petals seem to glow with life, shining with the many soft blue colours of the sky.

Much rarer are the mushrooms, sprouting between thick roots and atop the many damp rocks... Some look quite stereotypical, toadstools with bone-white stalks and caps of such a rich and vibrant red, while others are much more alien in appearance, long and thin stems tipped with pointy needle-like blades that pulse with a deep blue, almost purple, energy. A few of the larger and more visually mundane fungi stretch out from the thickest of tree trunks as flat shelves of orange and yellow hues. Similar little platforms have taken root, so to speak, across the rocky cliff edges of the hot springs, clinging comfortably to the damp stone near the many waterfalls.

Rays of a gentle gold filter in through branches and leaves, the warmth of the sun beaming down into this underground grove via the false sky that hangs above it. The various streams and steamy pools add to the otherworldly atmosphere, emitting a soft cyan light of their own to help illuminate this serene and soothing sanctum from below.

This place is beautiful. Like a painting. But it doesn’t... it doesn’t quite feel right. There is an... emptiness to it. One that isn’t immediate at first, but becomes impossible to ignore once noticed. There are no buzzing bugs, no chirping birds, nor any other chittering creatures, just the soft sounds of trickling water and leaves rustling in the breeze.

Barring those odd, and utterly silent, butterflies that probably shouldn’t count as living things... The only life down here is that of plants and fungi. Which makes this little forest feel more like a garden or a greenhouse. Not a Dryad’s grove. Not a proper slice of nature, made fantastical with magic.

That realization causes a faint frown to find its way onto Krvavy’s face, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. “Are those ‘butterflies’ going to be the only things living in here...?” She quietly asks, watching one such glowing ‘bug’ flutter into view some distance ahead. “Or are you going to bring in actual animals at some point...?”

Beryl’s touch idly trails along the end bit of the meaty, Draconic tail she is hugging close to her slim chest, slowly stroking it as if she were petting a beloved, well, pet. “Ah’d like ta introduce a few lil’ critters... Mostly birds, little ones at tha’... But it’d be nice ta ‘ave some squirrels around too... Chipmunks, specifically... They’re quite cute... We’ll also need fish fer the streams and the ponds... Not ta mention some proper bugs as well... Ach,” she is just barely able to shake her head, “Ah don’t know when Ah’ll be able ta get around ta tha’. It’d be... quite the ordeal.”

The very tip of the barbarian’s thumb just barely brushes over Beryl’s verdant lips, moving without much thought as it caresses that tomboy’s caramel skin. It earns itself the lightest of kisses.

“Ah suppose it’d be a bit easier now tha’ our souls are so closely intertwined, bindin’ me ta ya as well as my tree.” The Dryad idly muses. A gentle green hue colours her cheeks as Krvavy’s other hand finds her toned thigh, giving it a light squeeze. “Otherwise, Ah’d ‘ave ta wait until my influence ‘as spread far beyond our ‘ome, lest Ah wilt just tryin’ ta reach the woodlands...”

A sour and unpleasant feeling wells up within Krvavy, drawn out by just the thought of Beryl growing weak, withering and wasting away simply because she dared to take one step too far from her tree... That Krvavy’s presence will now prevent such a thing from happening is a mild reassurance, but the worry still remains. The worry will always be there, even when Beryl grows strong enough for this to be nothing more than a debuff, one that would leave her weakened but still stronger than what she was like before becoming a Dryad...

The Drakling dismisses those thoughts with a slow sigh. After a moment, she decides to do what she wanted to earlier, leaning in and resting her pale cheek atop her sweet berry’s beautifully messy hair. “How would you ‘spread your influence’ anyway...? Do you just need your grove to grow...?”

“Kinda...?” That uncertain answer is accompanied by the slightest of shrugs. “But... There is more too it than just physical growth. The trees and plants and whatnot need ta be... they need ta be infused or saturated wit’ my... Ah suppose essence would be the right word...? Ach, let’s go wit’ tha’ anyway...” Beryl squirms slightly, as if trying to give her head a single dismissive shake. “Ah then ‘ave influence over not just those plants, but over the area around them as well. My influence diminishes as ya move further away from those... collections... o’ my essence, and goin’ beyond its reach is when Ah start ta wilt.”

Krvavy gently nuzzles her face into the top of her tomboy’s bark-brown hair, vaguely nodding in the process. “And I take it that the range of your influence, how far away it reaches, will increase as more of your ‘essence’ gets concentrated in an area...?” She lazily assumes, feeling increasingly groggy as she relaxes into this peaceful cuddling hug. “Which is why, at first, you couldn’t even step into our home without starting to wither... but now you can safely sleep in our bed together with the rest of us... Even though your grove hasn’t expanded outwards... at all, from the look of it...”

“Aye, exactly.” Beryl breathes back, her voice so soft and soothing... “But as my influence grows in an area, as it becomes more concentrated... Well, some odd things’ll start ta ‘appen.”

“Odd in what way...?” Much to her Dryad’s (mild) disappointment, the Drakling very carefully slips her left hand out of the prison it had been trapped in, squished between Beryl’s cheek and her pale chest. It was starting to get a bit uncomfortable, keeping her arm bent like that.

But the tanned tomboy doesn’t let that hand completely pull away, instead guiding it down and encouraging it to palm one of her pert tits. “Like those butterflies, fer one.” A calm and cozy warmth surrounds the two lovers as they snuggle up together beneath this sturdy tree. “Mostly though, Ah’d expect my essence ta cause things ta change. Ta become more magical. And probably a lot more glowy too, lookin’ at ‘ow the rest o’ my grove is turnin’ out... Some plants may even come alive, in a way. Not like animals, not wit’ any measure o’ intelligence, but they may decide ta get up and move ta a nicer spot, fer instance.”

Absentmindedly and without thought, Krvavy’s right hand sluggishly glides up and down the toned thigh of her tanned tomboy, caressing across caramel coloured skin.

“It wouldn’t be too bad, but Ah don’t want any o’ that mess wit’ the garden.” Beryl’s voice seems to drop lower and lower with each word that passes by her leaf-green lips, becoming little more than a light breeze that whispers through the drowsy Drakling’s mind. “Bitin’ inta an apple only ta taste carrot isn’t somethin’ Ah want ‘appenin’. So Ah’ll keep my influence light down there. Less than wha’ we ‘ave over ‘ere, in this outer part o’ my grove.”

Krvavy’s eyes grow heavy, struggling to stay open as she watch one of Beryl’s vines reach out and grab the model waterwheel once more. “Then... how will you... spread... influence...?” She doesn’t bother stifling her yawn.

“My roots’ll follow the river out, filterin’ it as ya asked some time ago, and’ll climb the columns too.” The tomboyish Dryad gives her Draconic lover’s tail one last squeeze before letting it slip from her grip, hands returning to her work. “Once outside o’ our ‘ome, Ah’ll subtly spread my influence throughout the ‘ills and, in time, the forest too. Fer the most part, my essence’ll be thin out there. But Ah’ll let it concentrate and gather in certain spots. Tops o’ ‘ills... near creeks... wherever the fancy strikes me.”

“Wha–...?”

“Shhhh... shhhhh...” A gentle gust of wind blows through this underground grove, rustling leaves and carrying the warmth of the many hot spring ponds scattered around. “Shush, my dearest love... We’ve talked enough... Enjoy yer break and let yerself relax by my side...”

Part of the barbarian wants to resist, to keep this conversation going, even if just to hear Beryl’s voice. But she doesn’t quite have the energy for that...