brave_kreyu (
brave_kreyu) wrote2024-03-19 08:36 pm
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OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness?
(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.
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.
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She smiles brightly when she sees how he's tidied. "Thank you, Skellig. That's very thoughtful of you."
She sets the water jar down carefully. "And I suppose I'd best drink what Taweret left for me, before I forget."
She takes her first sip of the drink in the jar, makes a face at the bitterness of it, but keeps drinking. It even SMELLS bitter to Skellig, if he's close enough.
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At some point he is close enough, and he makes a similar face at the bitter scent of the drink.
"That..."
(It triggers a flash of a memory in his mind, the feeling of the gritty texture of white pills as he grinds them between his back teeth, bitterness and acid on his tongue as he tries to swallow. One brown, two or three - or four, who's counting? - white, mix them together to dull the ache in his hands.)
Skellig visibly shudders and shakes his head, obviously still bothered. "I am sorry you have to drink that, I know it will help, but..." he makes a noise of disgust, and moves back towards the fire.
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She pours herself an entire mug of beer, downs it, and then pours herself another. "Ugh. Still need to wash the taste out of my mouth before I can tell how well this batch of beer came out."
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He sighs, still unsure of just how he should classify this. The 'here and now' that they are inhabiting. But his mood perks quickly, as she mentions the prospect of beer. Once he's satisfied with the fire for the time being (and the scent has faded from his nostrils) he moves back over to her.
"Tawaret will be glad you have chosen to listen to her. I am glad I will not have to explain to her why I was unable to convince you," he says, smirking slightly before he drops casually into a chair, reaching for an empty mug and nudging it nearer to her. "You make this, yourself?"
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"I do," she explains. "The village is too small to support one person dedicated to brewing beer, so most everyone brews their own. I've gotten better at it over time, thankfully."
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Now that he is not delirious from heat exhaustion and wavering towards darkness and dehydration, he actually has time to taste the beer as it crosses his tongue. The flavor profile is entirely different than what he is used to, but it is still good. He nods.
"You may end up stuck with me, at this rate."
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"Was that supposed to deter me from trying to get you to stay?" she asks, leaning toward him from across the table. She laughs, low, and her smile is slightly wicked. She's so very close, it would be so easy to kiss her. "Because if it was, it isn't working," she purrs.
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Regardless if it is another hour, day, week, or years.
"And as long as you would have me."
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"How do you like your eggs?"
The bread is starting to stale a little, no preservatives or dough conditioners HERE, but the eggs are fresh and there are some dried herbs and salt to give them some seasoning. There's also honey, for someone with a sweet tooth. Oh, and beer. Beer is the breakfast drink of champions, right?
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The bread being slightly stale is of no concern to him (after all, what does one usually do with bread that has gone stale - tear it into pieces and feed it to the birds) but he will gladly drizzle it with honey and salt. And drink the beer.
"I prefer it if they are at least cooked through a bit."
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Kreyu hadn't realized how hungry she was until she started eating. She also put honey on her bread, though it didn't go as neatly as planned, and it got all over her fingers. She starts to lick it off of her hand, put her fingers in her mouth to get it off, because this is what she has always done.
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But first, a bit of bread and beer, an 'appetizer' before she gets started on the eggs with any real intent. He is mostly focused on his own piece until he catches her...licking honey off of her fingers...
Skellig coughs, mouth suddenly dry, and reaches for his beer. A quick swig, and then he shifts to lean over the table, catching her wrist - sticky honey and all - in his grasp. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he pulls her hand to his mouth and takes over, licking a drip of honey from her skin.
"Let me help you."
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"Well." She laughs, soft. "I would like your help, Skellig," Her eyes are dark with want. She leans toward him, lets him pull her wrist how he pleases.
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"I have half a mind to clear this table and take you right here and now."
He exhales a breath. He hasn't ruled that idea out, but he is also quite hungry, and still a bit tired from their previous antics. Plus, they have plans...
"Perhaps after...breakfast."
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She swallows, twice. "After our errands this morning," she suggests. "We'll have hours in the worst heat of the day when everyone will be resting to spend time together. Give us time to eat and time to recover a bit more from last night."
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Skellig nods, and with her skin cleared, he leans back in his chair and picks his mug up once more, using the beer to wash down the sticky feeling from his lips - and her taste from his tongue.
"And recovery." He motions at the eggs. "Can I help further than just watch, or...?"
With this being her kitchen and her hearth, it makes more sense for her to cook for them.
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The idea of him being here, of it becoming HIS space too, makes her heart flutter a little. Or maybe that's just the after effects of him helping her clean up.
The eggs get cooked without much further excitement, washed down with beer.
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"What errands do we need to run, this morning? I know Tawaret said you were acting as her apprentice. Are there women you need to check in upon, or is it just other things? I can make myself scarce, if needed."
Or just sit outside somewhere and wait.
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"I wanted to show you my dragon shape, start showing you the process for creating a place like this, and visit Tawaret. You should be able to come with me anywhere today without trouble."
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He glances down at his hands, to confirm that yes, the amulet is working as intended, then looks up at her. Looks her over. Asks a question he has been wondering since his arrival.
"This may seem...uneducated...but is it common practice for women in your village to not protect more of their skin from the sun?"
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He drains the last of his beer from the mug, then stands, offering her a hand out of habit.
"I would see you," he says. "My dragon, where it is safe to do so."
Which means they will have to walk a distance, and it is already growing warm outside - so no time like the present.
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They walk back up the road he must have traveled down yesterday, though he's unlikely to recognize it.
Kreyu frowns. "Would you hold this for me?" she aks, gesturing at her kilt. "I'll destroy it when I change shape if I leave it on."
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"I will hold it," he says, reaching for it as she removes it. "But before you shift, let me listen a moment."
He shifts his attention to his senses, subtly cocking his head to the side to allow for better triangulation of any sounds he might pick up. There is not much, out here, and nobody within a range that might do them any harm.
Satisfied, he nods, and drapes her kilt linen over his forearm, eyes wandering her body. She is beautiful like this, her well-tanned skin and dark hair lit by the sun's rays. He has to swallow to refocus his attention to her face, and he steps back two steps, out of caution. And then a third, for good measure.
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The change itself makes no noise, but the amount of air displaced does! Kreyu is, by a large margin, the biggest thing with a pulse that Skellig has ever seen. Perhaps even the largest living thing he has ever laid eyes upon. Half again as long as a blue whale, her talons in this form are longer than he is tall, her scales the size of shields. Violet eyes peer down at him, sheepishly.
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