OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness?

[brave_kreyu]

(OOC: Warning for explicit adult content, mention of noncon/rape, slavery)

Is it a dream? A glimpse of a universe that might have been? A story untold?

Something called Skellig out here, to a road scratched in the earth between the desert and the land irrigated by the river. The sun overhead is like a hammer, the heat murderous. His coat...he can't remember WHAT happened to his coat. In this heat the coat would be as strange as his wings to human eyes in any case.

There are two small mud-brick houses up ahead, then more road, and a mud-brick wall encircling a small village of mud-brick houses.

He needs a drink, desperately.

He hears footsteps coming toward him, the heat haze breaks to reveal a woman. (Except she can't be a woman, no one human has that much Light inside them, that much power.)

"Even one touched by the gods should not be walking about this time of day," her voice is all concern, all worry. She's wearing a white linen kilt around her waist, and nothing at all above it except a necklace of blue clay beads. She's lovely. (And she feels familiar? Why?)

She offers a hand to him, seemingly not concerned in the slightest about his wings.

Comments

[brave_kreyu]

"I wonder.." She huffs. "I know a technique that might help."

She pulls a fabric hanging off of the wall, tosses it on the floor.

She settles herself on the fabric she put down, which should at least show him how to sit with the kilt on without flashing anyone.

"Would you sit with me, for a while?"

[27_53]

As she moves to sit on the floor, Skellig carefully watches her (how can he take his eyes off of her, with the way she moves with such ease and fluidity) settle on the fabric.

And then he follows.

And while the ache in his knees and the rest of his body is not the worst it has ever been - it is not with ease that he lowers himself to the ground, mimics her position as he takes his place across from her. It is obvious that his body is tired, and it is not merely from the heat of the day having done a number on him.

[brave_kreyu]

There is concern in her eyes at his movements, but that is a problem for later.

"It helps, to be seated on the Earth." An explanation and an unspoken apology for his pain being necessary.

She offers both wrists to him. "Being what I am, I am tied into Karma, into the fabric of the world. I'm hoping you can use my pulse to find that fabric, or find the one you knew before."

"Please put a finger on each of my wrists, press enough to feel the pulse there, if you can." There ARE other places where the pulse can be readily detected, but they are more intimate. "Then just relax, focus on what you feel beneath your fingers."

Karma flows through the world, through Kreyu, through him, through everything. Ley lines like veins in the body. Warmth, Life, Emotion, the sound of her heart is the world's heart.

[27_53]

Sitting with her, he takes hold of her wrists and allows his fingertips to press as instructed. The first thing that he notices is her heartbeat, and she will be able to feel the way that his surges as the rhythm becomes easily sensed by his mind.

Karma and Light colliding between their bodies, in this space where it pools around them.

It is nearly a palpable crackle of electricity that runs over his skin as he reaches, allows his mind to sense her, fall into line.

(It takes much less effort that he expects - as if he's done this before...)

Skellig visibly relaxes - substantially - with his hands remaining on her wrists, as things slide, waver, and start to fall into some semblance of order in his confused and jumbled mind. He still does not know where he is, how he came to be here, or why he is here.

"Kreyu."

It is the second time he has spoken her name, and it is different off his tongue. Fond, almost.

[brave_kreyu]

Her breath catches and her pulse races when he says her name like that. She WANTS that, so much. The almost fondness a craved balm for a lonely heart and a body aching with want. If he looks at the right time he'll see it in her eyes, naked and plain as day.

It's harder to shove those wants back down than it has ever been before. "Skellig." He might notice her tongue giving his name the lightest touch of those feelings, despite herself.

[27_53]

Something in the background noise of whatever 'reality' this is tugs at his senses when he notices the look in her eyes, the desire and want that she's projecting in her gaze.

Skellig cocks his head slightly when he realizes it is an echo.
Of what exactly, he is not sure. Past? Present? Future?

"Kreyu," he repeats. It is softer. Familiar. He barely notices that he is moving his hands from her wrists, one falling to her waist as he shifts his bodyweight to change how he is sitting, the other moving to cup her jawline, pulling her in to him, taking the initiative to bring her close for a kiss.

[brave_kreyu]

It's the easiest thing in the world to let him bring her close for a kiss. Her heart is hammering so fast, but she has at least kissed men before. She's gentle when she kisses him back, careful, unsure of her reception. It...may become obvious to Skellig that she doesn't have a lot of experience in this area.

[27_53]

He keeps the kiss gentle, chaste - not pushing, simply testing the 'waters', trying to trigger his senses to find something familiar to grip onto.

Part of his mind is screaming at him that this is a horrible idea, that he has no idea who this magic being is, no clue of the powers she may hold. She could be trying to trap him, use him for wicked things, she's already convinced him to wear an amulet and shift his appearance...

The other part of his mind simply does not care, and if this is the afterlife? He'll take it.

[brave_kreyu]

Kreyu is eager, if a bit clumsy. He may be being gentle, chaste, but she's never felt anything this good before.

The human distress scream has a very distinct pitch, and when that scream comes from a child it tends to cut through a LOT of interference.

Skellig might hear the noise of a dozen armed men outside on the road, depending on how his hearing is working right now.

Kreyu breaks away from him, rises to her feet, shoves her wings away.

[27_53]

She is merely a half a step ahead of him, and he rises to his feet quickly (as he can) to follow her. With his hearing still sharp, he can tell that there is a group outside, but he is inwardly wondering why he simply did not hear them sooner.

Distraction?

Fearful still about his wings possibly becoming visible (he touches the amulet at his neck, confirms to himself it is still there) he does linger and follow her lead, but he will not let her stray far from him. The urge to protect her is still deep rooted in his mind, despite not knowing just how powerful she may be.

[brave_kreyu]

The village is a poor one, there's not much loot to interest bandits, except the people.

Skellig can practically HEAR the wheels turn in their minds as Kreyu appears. She's young, she's pretty, a much more valuable prize to sell than some farmer.

"Try not to leave a mark on that one that will show, I want as much as we can get for her," the apparent leader snaps at his underlings while motioning toward Kreyu.

Kreyu spits a string of syllables and throws a small ball of fire at one of the bandits who is trying to carry off a child.

[27_53]

Without his wings at his disposal, he is slower, but he is still not slow. Quite to the contrary, especially when he hears what the 'leader' says about Kreyu.

(She will be able to sense the way white-hot rage flares within him, as the words register in his mind.)

He might not be able to sling fire, but he can still throw a stiff right hook. Which he does once he closes the distance between himself and the band of armed men, before making an effort to lunge for another, with the intent of stealing a weapon if he can get his hands on one.

[brave_kreyu]

Skellig is a fair bit taller than anyone else here, and these men are not trained fighters. The blow to the face is enough to stun the man, take him off his feet. After that, it's easy enough for Skellig to twist an arm, wrench a blade out of a man's hand.

One of the bandits in the back of the crowd has a bow. It's made more for duck hunting than hunting humans, but that doesn't mean its harmless. Kreyu lunges to knock a child out of the arrows path, takes the shot in the shoulder.

She's bleeding and he shouldn't be able to smell her blood from here but he CAN. So much power in it, welling up with every beat of her heart, so much Light. (Does it smell sweet, or is that an echo of before or yet to come?)

She throws more fire at a bandit, kills this one.

[27_53]

With the knife in his hand, it is easy enough to wound the man he stole it from and force him to his knees, put the edge of the blade to his throat and prepare to strike him down -- and then the arrow pierces her shoulder, and Skellig's attention snaps immediately to Kreyu, focus narrowing with a deadly precision.

fire and the bite of metal

The man at his knees is abandoned and Skellig takes the first step towards Kreyu.
But then she throws more fire, and kills the one nearest her.

So his movement twists and he turns, and stalks towards the one with the bow.

(He is reloading the weapon, nocking an arrow with unsteady hands - but he is no true fighter, just a scumbag - before he moves to fire it, aiming it square at Skellig's rapidly advancing form. His fingers release the bowstring and the arrow flies free with a rush of air.)

Skellig drops the knife to the sand and in the same movement - it's too quick to be natural or human, but who would believe any of them, if they live to tell the tale - lifts his hand, catching the arrow mid-flight, barehanded before it strikes his chest.

Never breaking his stride towards his prey.

[brave_kreyu]

The smartest bandits are already running like the scavengers they are, not willing to fight such fearsome predators.

The man with the bow is frozen in terror. Skellig looks human to his eyes, but he's approaching like a monster in a horror movie, inescapable death.

[27_53]

Inescapable death is an accurate description of what is about to happen to the man with the bow.

Skellig closes the distance and the first thing he does is flare his wings, a rush of air swirling and kicking up dust and dirt from the road, mixing in a brief whirlwind that merely serves to narrow his focus to himself and this man, this useless excuse for humanity that would dare hurt her.

(The swirl of sand is brief, only a heartbeat or two, but it is enough to sting the eyes. What happens next is not pretty.)

The arrow in his hand gets flipped around and plunged hard into the bandit's shoulder (shadowing the location where the other arrows rests lodged in Kreyu's flesh) and then his fingertips talons close swiftly around the shoulder and throat of the man, bones in his shoulder and chest breaking with a swift snap as unseen knives talons dig in, seeking the critical veins and arteries that run just behind the surface. There's blood on his hand, but he pays no attention.

Skellig forces the bandit to his knees (or does he fall from the pain?) and pins him there. Waiting. Watching the look in his eyes. Ignoring any attempts to bargain, any pleas for mercy.

[brave_kreyu]

There's nothing but pain and terror in his eyes. He's not in any fit state to speak, frozen like a mouse caught in the talons of an owl.

The smell of Kreyu's blood is closer to him now. Out of the corner of his eye he can just see her strike at a bandit with her hand. Her hand shifts, twists, into something scaled, taloned, and she rips out the bandit's throat. He can hear an echo of his own voice "My dragon."

[27_53]

Pain and terror are a mercy, in this instant. There are many, many darker things that Skellig could chose to inflict upon this human, if perhaps the path he had been set upon had divulged in a different direction than the one he is on now.

The echo in his head, his own voice. my dragon Her hand shifting, twisting, tearing through flesh and muscle. my dragon His own hand moving quickly, his talons dug deep as he snaps the bandit's neck with one swift motion. my dragon The blood in the air, the scent in his nostrils thick. my dragon Pain radiating through his core, as the life in front of him snuffs out soundlessly, the body hitting the dirt.

Skellig staggers back, hit with a sharp wave of nausea as the world tilts around him just slightly. Things are not right. my dragon He drops to a knee - physically, he is uninjured. Mentally, there are fractures running throughout his entire system. Nothing makes sense. Things are not right. my dragon She is injured, but he can't find his balance to try to stand. Her heartbeat runs beneath his fingertips, as he grasps at her Karma, digging his bloodied fingertips into the earth, reaching for a connection.

[brave_kreyu]

There is one bandit that hasn't run by the time Skellig goes to his knees, the leader, the one Skellig stunned at the very first. He makes the terminal mistake of moving, trying to stand up, when he's between Kreyu and Skellig. She can smell his distress, has no time for HUMAN niceties She stabs him with the claws of her transformed hand, not even noticing the sharp edge of metal on his stolen breastplate drawing her blood in a gash on that arm.

She was born from earth, air, fire, and water, and her blood is on the earth now as she moves toward him. She's steady, bright, a sun pulling him into her orbit. Both of her hands are covered in her own blood when she grabs his dominant hand in hers. (That hand will never hurt, never ache or be stiff again after this bloody baptism. There is POWER in a dragon's blood.) "Skellig, it's okay. I'm right here."

[27_53]

"My dragon."

Skellig isn't sure if he actually speaks the words (he does) or if he is merely imagining it, part of whatever bizarre fever dream or hallucination he's participating in. He grips her hand tightly, tired muscles suddenly feeling strong, his worn bones in his fingertips losing the end-constant ache and pain that plague him. He notices, but that's not where his focus is.

She is pulling him back into the here, the now. Wherever this here and now even is.

The sun is still blazing overhead, and he is just so tired, and her blood scent is overwhelming him since she is right here.

"My dragon." He shakes his head hard, blinking spots from his vision, looks at her with eyes that are still wild, but there is a different sense of understanding there which he lacked before. Then his attention falls to her shoulder, her arm, her blood still oozing from her flesh. He nods. Get me up. He's moving without speaking, trying to stand.

[brave_kreyu]

Kreyu blinks, confused, when he says those words. HOW did he know? Why does it feel RIGHT? Why does it make that aching want in her gut worse?

She shoves those questions aside, helps him stand. The arrow shifts painfully in her shoulder, but she ignores it for now. As he rises, she grabs his other hand, takes THAT one in both of hers. She leads him gently back to her house. That hand too, is mending, as they walk.

Hopefully, the karma will help, or at least not make things any worse.

[27_53]

Once they have escaped the glaring inferno of the sun, he allows his eyes to adjust to the lower light of the interior space, before glancing around looking for something, anything he can to stop the bleeding from her arm and shoulder.

Since nothing is readily available, he turns her towards him, placing his hands on her gashed arm, fingers curling over the wound.

"This will hurt," he warns.

It is more a courtesy than anything, since he is already fairly tapped out energy-wise. If he had more in his reserves he would go easier, slower, use greater finesse. But he does not, and she is bleeding all over his hands, and he knows it needs to stop. He throws what he has into her arm, his focus on the damaged tissues, the veins that have been torn by the sharp metal, knitting the fibers back together with what strength he can muster. Tendons rejoin, her fingers regaining full function, and then more muscle, more skin.

Once he is done, he sways on his feet, gripping tightly to her arm to maintain his balance.

[brave_kreyu]

It does hurt, but the end result is worth it. "Easy, Skellig," she tells him. "I'll be alright for a little while, you can rest. My shoulder can wait."

Her smile is wry. "So long as the arrow is in place, it won't bleed much if I'm careful, a fairly effective plug."

She moves both of them slowly to a chest, fishes out scraps of fabric, something that smells medicinally sharp, and a small bronze blade about the size of a pocketknife. "Good thing I drew some water from the well earlier, wouldn't want to try it now."

[27_53]

Still mildly disoriented, he follows her.

"Your shoulder will be...more difficult." Skellig nods lightly, looking at her shoulder, at the arrow, before he cocks his head and studies her slightly, and what she has gathered in the meantime.

(When did she gather these things? He can hardly remember.)

A shiver runs hard down his spine and continues to cause his hands upper arms, forearms, hands to tremble as his adrenaline surge starts to work down his body.

[brave_kreyu]

"It will be more difficult, yes." Kreyu knows that SOMEONE is going to have to cut that arrowhead out of her.

"We should sit for a bit," she says. She does have two chairs for them to sit at, thankfully. She uses the water on the table to clean the blood off of her hands, offers him clean rags and a bowl of water to do the same to his own.

"Can you feel the Karma here, pull it into you where you're empty?" It's thick here, waiting for him to taste, to take.