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

[27_53]

"My hands..." Skellig looks at his palms, his fingertips, which have stopped their earlier tremors. Despite the increase in his heartrate which has occurred with her lips meeting his. "My hands have settled."

And it isn't like he's going to let her cut it out of her own body. He studies the wound, the arrow lodged firmly into her flesh, the blood having dripped down her chest and dried on her skin.

He shifts in his chair to move closer to her.

"You have a blade...do you wish for anything for pain that I could fetch? Or I can try my best to...dampen it."

[brave_kreyu]

"I don't have anything for the pain," she admits. "And you might need to save your strength for fixing the damage instead of dulling the pain."

She smiles ruefully. "I will try not to faint on you like a damsel in distress."

[27_53]

Skellig strongly wishes he had access to a bottle of vodka at the moment. If only to rinse the blade in, before he works it over her skin. But he keeps that comment to himself.

"I will try to be...efficient."

He lifts the blade from the table, and tests the way it handles in his fingertips - somewhat surprised at how easily he is able to control it, with a lack of discomfort in his grip. Moving closer, he places one hand on her chest, palm flat above her breast, beneath the arrow. With the other, he brings the blade to rest a breath above her skin, then looks at her.

A silent ask for permission to start the cut, to draw her blood.

[brave_kreyu]

Kreyu may be ignorant in many things with regard to humans, but her mind is still quite sharp. "Your hands are working better after my blood was on them," she says, seeing him move the knife. "Save the blood for yourself when you cut, if you can."

She smiles. "If I'm going to bleed anyway, I'd rather you get something useful out of it."

"Go ahead."

[27_53]

One eyebrow lifts in an amused expression as a smirk tugs faintly at the corner of his mouth - that was certainly not what he had been expecting her to say in this moment. But she is speaking the truth - his hands have not felt this good in as far as he can remember.

"Do not hesitate to speak if it is too much to bear."

Attempting to minimize jostling the arrow itself, he carefully (and precisely) presses the blade into her skin, working to expand the entry wound enough to allow for the head to be fully exposed to aid in removal.

Ancient weaponry is...rough.
So is the wave of power that smacks him (his reaction is minimal, but not invisible) as her blood spills onto his hands.

[brave_kreyu]

It could be worse, the blade is sharp and thin for all that it is made of bronze. And they are lucky, the arrowhead was a small thing, didn't go as deep as it would have from a bow made for killing something the size of a human.

His wrists might be in better shape, by the time he cuts the damn arrow out. Maybe more than that, depending.

Kreyu doesn't scream, but her grasp on the chair is tight enough that the wood creaks.

[27_53]

She does not have to scream out loud for him to be able to 'hear' it, and he cringes slightly as another ripple of her discomfort hits him, but he pushes aside the response it stirs inside him and continues his efforts.

With what he believes is a sufficient cut, he places the knife carefully on the table - then rubs her blood from his hands onto his wrists and forearms quickly, just enough to satisfy her request of him not to let her blood go to waste - then grips the shaft of the arrow.

It is mostly free, but he does have to shift it slightly to work it from her muscle.

[brave_kreyu]

She does cry out when it comes loose at last. And there will be a lot more blood coming out too if he's not quick about the healing, applying pressure, or both.

She shudders, but the worst of the pain is over. "Thank you, Skellig."

[27_53]

"I've got you," he mutters under his breath, pressing his fingertips and palm firmly to the wound to hold it closed as he briefly studies the arrowhead - yes, all of it is present - before tossing the offending weapon onto the tabletop.

With his palm still flat against her chest, he reaches and allows his skills to work to heal the damage in her shoulder.

And then he leans in and allows his forehead to fall lightly against hers. This effort, he does for pain relief - and while it is draining, he keeps the contact brief as to not completely exhaust his reserves.

Once the skin has finished knitting itself together, he leans back in the chair and exhales heavily, tired.

[brave_kreyu]

"You have done lovely work." She moves to kiss him, a light press of lips. "Rest, and I'll fetch us some things to clean up and perhaps restore some energy."

More rags, more water, something herbal and resinous to help take away the smell of blood. And a fresh kilt for both of them, as the ones they have on are stained with blood.

On another trip, she brings more beer, along with some bread and dried dates.

The horrors of the afternoon have been cleaned away, wrapped up to be dealt with at a later date.

[27_53]

Skellig does not move much from his position in the chair, other than to rinse his body of the bloodstains (both hers and those of the men they fought) and to gratefully accept her offerings of food and drink (he leaves plenty to share between them, but he did not realize just how hungry he was) as she busies herself with taking care of things.

He feels as if she should also be resting, given that he just dug an arrow out of her shoulder, but he's too tired to argue.

With his bare feet on the floor, he focuses on letting his body adjust to the rhythm of the Karma he can feel moving through the packed dirt beneath him, closing his eyes as he drinks. A rustle of fabric catches his attention (his hearing is improving, in this space) and he cracks one eye open, glancing at her.

She is changing from her bloodied kilt, her body turned away from him. One version of him, in another life or timeline, would have turned his gaze away from her form. This is not that version, and he does not stare...but he does not turn his head, either.

[brave_kreyu]

Somehow, she notices his looking. His scent, something else? There is no scar over her shoulder, between her shoulder blades, Not yet. She dresses slowly, deliberately, because she WANTS him to look, her heart pounding faster in her chest.

"You may look upon me as much as you please," she says as she finishes tying the kilt. "Though I fear spending time with me may damage your reputation." She turns to face him. "No idea how the rumors started, but apparently I'm pretty poison." She laughs, the sound a little bitter. "The young men will jest among themselves when they think I can't hear them that it would be a fine thing to have their hands on my breasts and fill me with their cocks. But in the same breath, they'll curse me as a witch that makes any man who lays with me impotent."

[27_53]

Skellig's expression shifts to one of interest, with a heavy layer of disbelief, his eyebrow lifting as he shifts his jaw.

"Young men are often fools who do not know of what they speak." He huffs, offended on her behalf that anyone would speak of her that way. (Not only is he offended in general at the view towards women, but he is more frustrated that someone would speak of her in that manner - his dragon - why does he feel such an attachment?)

And since she has given him permission to look upon her...he does so. Gratefully, and appreciative. He senses her heartbeat quicken under his gaze, and he feels a stir in his own chest, an aching hint of want that surprises him somewhat with how much it also brings him...a familiar comfort, among other thoughts.

With the hand that is holding his cup of beer, he motions at her form, smirking.

"They would be lucky to lay with a being such as yourself, even if the rumor happens to be truth...so long as perhaps, the effect occurs afterwards."

[brave_kreyu]

She's visibly pleased to hear them called fools, and his last comment startles a laugh from her. It takes her a good minute to stop laughing.

"You flatter me, Skellig." She's close enough now that she could reach out and touch him. She flushes ever so slightly. "I have never lain with anyone, before. But if you would teach me how to please you, I would strive to leave you very satisfied."

[27_53]

His original plan, as she stepped closer to him, had been to swiftly pull her into his lap and kiss the hell out of her without much further preamble, to show her just what idiots those young men truly were.

And then she speaks. And he has to take a brief moment, a heartbeat, to consider her words and just how she has spoken them to him.

"I would gladly teach you," he says honestly, motioning to her to come closer; when she does, he pulls her to him, guiding her to sit on his lap. His hand settles at her hip. "But to start...I have no doubt in your ability to satisfy me. Men...we are much more...straightforward."

To say the least.

"I would ask that I be taught how to best please you."

[brave_kreyu]

She is delighted to be guided to sit on his lap, that he has agreed to teach her.

"Really?" Men being more straightforward is definitely news to her. "I am glad of a bit of straightforwardness here, I think."

She flushes at his question, heat and want stirring at the idea of him pleasing her. "I, I don't know if I can teach you that, as I don't know it myself," she admits after a moment of thought. "I've tried touching myself before, but it only made the wanting stronger and it was never ENOUGH."

[27_53]

"We will learn together, then, what it is that brings you the most pleasure."

His hand on her hip remains in place, though he begins to draw slow circles against her skin with his thumb, the contrast of the woven linen and her bare flesh helping to keep his focus in this moment.

"And I will teach you what brings mine."

A pause.

"You must promise me, this...if at any point, anything that I do is unpleasant, or makes you unsettled...you will speak up. I do not think that will be a concern...but if it is, I would stop, without argument."

[brave_kreyu]

"I will," she promises. "Would you promise me the same? I don't want to hurt you."

She shivers at the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her hip. It's a pleasant feeling.

[27_53]

"I will," he replies, with a nod. "I am not afraid to speak out when it is needed."

With that issue settled, and with her already shivering under his touch, he uses his other hand to brush her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"If you will allow it, I would kiss you?"

[brave_kreyu]

"Please," Kreyu replies, voice low and wanting.

His lap is solid, warm, beneath her, and moving into a kissing position rather presses her breasts against his chest.

She's very careful at first, but her confidence grows over time, makes her a little bolder.

[27_53]

Skellig allows her to set the pace of the kiss, responding in kind to the way she is working her mouth against his, encouraging when needed, allowing a break occasionally to catch their breath, settle her nerves, laugh when they bump each other awkwardly.

It is fun, and he quite enjoys it.

As she grows bolder, he deepens the kiss, and slides one hand up to cup her breast in his palm, massaging gently as she leans into his touch, thumb grazing her nipple slowly.

(Those idiot village boys have no idea what they're missing out on.)

[brave_kreyu]

It is FUN, and she is quite relaxed by the time he cups her breast in his palm. She makes a pleased gasp when he massages her breast and when his thumb grazes her nipple he drags the first moan of pleasure of the evening out of her.

She deepens their kiss, reaches out to touch his chest, explore, fingers light against his skin.

[They have no idea, but that just means he has her all to himself.]

[27_53]

As her fingertips explore his chest, he is more vocal than he typically would be with a partner, encouraging her with contented, happy sounds as she hits spots that cause static sparks to crackle in his mind, pleasure welling in his body.

When her touch hits his collarbones, she is rewarded, a low groan escaping his throat as he breaks the kiss briefly to pull in a shuddering breath.

"More of that, please."

[brave_kreyu]

She's enjoying all the sounds he makes, but the groan and shuddering breath make the heat curl tightly in her gut. She shifts a little on his lap, straddling him, the kilt riding up higher on her thighs. There's nothing between him and the most intimate parts of her body now except the linen of his own kilt.

She is VERY pleased with herself at coaxing such a thing from him, and applies a hand to each of his collarbones, the touch firmer, more lingering.

"Like your hand on my breast," she breathes against his lips during a short break for air. There's also a bit of vicious satisfaction that she's giving Skellig what those young men wanted for THEIR pleasure and will never have.

[27_53]

Obliging, he shifts his second hand from her hip to her other breast, cupping both gently as he drops his lips to the skin on the side of her neck, kissing his way over it, nuzzling softly.

"I am happy to give you what you find enjoyable."

And frankly, what he also finds enjoyable - her body is a well-built form, and one that should be appreciated. His kiss shifts to her throat, mapping her curves with his mouth and tongue.