brave_kreyu | OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness? -Part Two

Kreyu can smell his concern, touches his arm gently.

"There is no debt, Skellig," Taweret replies. "Just keep yourself in one piece, if you can."

Kreyu is restless as they leave. "I feel a bit like I do when I've just incarnated, though nowhere near as strong. I may be a bit....feral, for a while." She flushes in embarrassment.

Skellig can sense the restlessness, the edge to her emotions and mood as they step out through the door - just hours ago, she fell to the ground here, where a stain of blood would have soaked into the earth had it not been for him to pull her off the dirt and drag her back inside to safety.

He also senses her embarrassment.

"Do not feel shame for what is your nature," he says simply, taking her hand - the one that does not hold that arrow, which he is taking with them on the walk back to Kreyu's home outside the wall. "It is who you are."

While they walk, Skellig does not hesitate to 'nudge' anyone who they come across (so few are out, as it is still quite early) to not See them. It is of little effort of him to do so, to cause them to become distracted by a sound in the other direction, or recall that they had something to do elsewhere, somewhere else to be or look.

"Your necklace shattered," he offers by way of explanation, in case she does not remember what happened, in that chaos. (He hopes she doesn't.) "When you had me Take from it, I think...I am not sure what happened, between our energy. But it was lost."

"Thank you. I know I am hungry, will want to eat and sleep a great deal. I will also crave items that have karma clinging to them. I don't know if it will have any effect on my human appetites." She squeezes his hand gently.

"I've never heard of a karmic item shattering before, but it would have lost its power after you used it in any case, used the last of its energy.

She sighs in relief as they enter her home. The karma here feels good. "We'll be gone several days. Can't carry enough beer for that, but I have spells to make water safe."

"I'll have to wear my dragon shape, to get to the sea fast enough. You should be able to hang on, where my neck meets my shoulders. It's far from ideal, but I don't think you'd let me go alone."

"I do not need beer to survive," he comments teasingly. "Water will suffice. And I will manage to keep hold of you."

He will not be letting go of her (or letting her go anywhere alone) anytime soon.

Unsure of what all she wishes to take, what she needs to take (or what he'll need, since he arrived with simply the clothes on his back and she has been his sole provider since) he listens to her direction, follows her guidance as she gathers supplies for a trip of several days. It is packed easily for him to carry - certainly not something she would be able to do in her dragon shape.

"I think we will have to walk away from the wall, unfortunately. The sun has risen higher...more people have awoken. Flight would be too obvious. I am not strong enough yet to distract them all at once."

Whispers are becoming louder outside the walls, words spoken more openly, grief spreading a little stronger.

"Yes, time to go. Where I showed you my shape before should still be far enough away."

They make their way there, and Kreyu strips off her kilt, hands it to him to pack away.

She lays down as flat as she can on the ground, but it's a good thing he has wings!

As she has him pack away her kilt, he also removes the amulet from around his neck, allowing his wings to fully be 'seen' since the night prior with Akatan.

There are a few chunks of missing feathers, from where he had frantically pulled from the leading edges of his right wing, but nothing too bad. And flight is still easy enough, as he manages to 'perch' himself well enough at the space she mentioned - following her direction to adjust his bodyweight.

And her instruction to hold on -- tight -- his body pressed as flat as he can manage against her scales, grip firm.

Kreyu whispers spells to carry their words to one another, to keep him warm, to help him hang on, to hide them from human eyes. "We go, my love, to the mouth of the river and the sea beyond."

Once he's settled, she LEAPS skyward, wings sending sand flying as she strives for height, seeks a thermal to help carry her higher. Unless Skellig has been in an aircraft, this is the fastest he's ever flown!

They rise above the river that men will one day call the Nile, the line between desert red and the black soil where life flourishes so very clear from on high.

This is the fastest and the highest he has ever been while flying - this is out of his range of capabilities - and while at first, he is a bit shell-shocked by all of it.

But then, he focuses on the view. And her heartbeat, which is strong and so very, very powerful beneath him, the dragon clearly healed well-enough to carry them both skyward, and towards the sea.

He could speak freely to her thanks to the spells she has cast, but he chooses silence for the initial climb, occasionally reassuring her that he is well, holding firmly.

Eventually:

"You are much faster than I am."

"Am I?" she asks, curious. "My size, perhaps?" she offers as an explanation. "Or that we are karma as much as flesh?"

She moves from one thermal to another, heading down the river. "It is good, having you hanging on to me, having you here. I, I can not put it into words."

"I am glad of it."

And if he 'hugs' a little tighter to the scale he is currently gripping, it may not be entirely from the fact that she is riding another thermal, gliding steadily towards their goal - the sea, her meal, the hunt which he knows she desires so greatly.

It is simply because he is glad that she is still here, for him to hang on to.

He is shedding Darkness with every beat of her wings, with the wind that rustles across his (even tucked tight and aerodynamic against his back as they are), Light growing stronger in his chest.

Flying is good for him, in so many ways.

She can feel the change in him, that THIS is good for him. She is so VERY glad.

The delta is a wide triangle of green below them, the sea beyond. "I will go lower, once we are out of sight of the mainland. If you hear one of the great singers in the deep, the whales, please tell me. Your ears are far better than my senses at hunting such prey. "

The sea rolls below them, a blue jewel, once they are out of sight of the coast and she descends. The sea teems with life. The is one vast heart in the waves below that he might hear, the size of a Volkswagon Beetle automobile. A blue whale, an old male, whose kind almost never come to these waters. He is half Kreyu's length, her equal in mass: fine prey, rich in what her body so desperately needs.

"There is much here," he says, a little amazed by all of it. So much noise, so much life, such a change from hours ago. "It will take me a moment to listen."

The things that Skellig has hunted (aside from monsters) have always been much smaller than he is - mice, rats, insects, other pests that he usually manages to stumble across rather than actively work to track and kill.

So it takes so time for him to to adjust his senses, for this type of hunting. This size of prey. But once he locates the thing she seeks, he directs her, guides her. Uses their connection to help her triangulate where she will have to dive - not too deep, despite the depths of the endless ocean beneath them.

And then he does the 'sensible thing', as owls do not swim - presses a quick kiss to the 'back' of her neck, his lips touching the scaled surface fondly - before bailing off her neck in a planned move, using his wings to flare and glide along the surface of the water, the salt spray coating his face as he moves to get away from her and her prey.

The hunger is in her now, the NEED to hunt, to feed. Things are simpler like this. She's aware of Skellig gliding along the water, her mate. She waits just long enough for him to get to a safe range, and then she folds her wings and DIVES. She snaps the whale's neck when her foreclaws strike it, but teeth that could tear through steel bite the spine, sever the cord, just to be sure.

The corpse floats to the surface, and she wastes no time in cracking the creature open with her jaws. She devours the dense muscle of the heart with greedy bites, tears into the liver and the other nutrient dense internal organs. She needs to bring her prey to land though, can't stand on the corpse like this forever.

A shark, drawn by the blood in the water, makes the fatal mistake of getting too close. Kreyu SNARLS, the sound like some terrible engine. Then her jaws SNAP and she devours the man sized shark whole in a single bite.

Skellig is grateful the kill is quick and 'painless', for it brings less of an energy shift than a drawn out and lingering one would, even in a hunting situation like this where it is a 'good kill', a need to satisfy life and fulfill her hunger.

He watches from a distance, not shying away from this part of her. He told her to feel no shame, no embarrassment. This is the shape of her soul, and he wishes to know every part of it.

So while she feasts, he idly swoops through the air around her, enjoying the breeze as it ripples across the open water, choosing to focus on the scent of salt versus that of iron and blood. She will notice (perhaps) that he laughs sharply as the shark makes the fatal mistake and is snatched up in one bite.

"Well done!"

Kreyu preens a bit, poses to show herself off.

Then she growls in frustration as she tries to lift what is left of the whale into the air. "Heavy prey. Need to take to land, to water and den." She points with her nose toward an island. "Safe there. Eat, sleep, eat and sleep again till prey is gone."

"I can help."

Skellig glides easily over the water's surface in as non-threatening of a manner as possible, to alight upon the corpse of the whale where it floats above the water. He makes a bit of a face at the scent of the creature - it smells of fish, and he is mildly repulsed - but he digs his hand and talons carefully into the skin, piercing through a layer of blubber to hold on.

"Try again?"

The whale should be much lighter, now.

Kreyu roars in triumph as she lifts the whale skyward. "Clever Skellig," she praises him.

The island is a rocky one, though partly wooded. Rocks lurk like teeth around the 'shore' of the flatter portions of the island, likely explaining its deserted nature. The area Kreyu flies the whale corpse to is large and flat. She dumps the whale corpse on the very edge of the rocky beach.

There's a sheltered overhang farther up the 'beach', and he can hear a freshwater stream running into a pool close by. A good place to 'den', to build a fire and camp.

Once Skellig is safely off the whale, she digs into the whale again, stuffing herself on precious meat and fat.
Once her stomach is as full as can be, she shakes herself, mutters a few words over the whale corpse to keep scavengers away and help the meat 'keep' a little longer. She reaches in with her talons, pulls a particularly choice bit of whale meat out of the carcass. "Meat for you?" she says, offering the hunk to Skellig with a hopeful expression.

Edited 2024-04-06 02:16 (UTC)

While she has been feasting with greater intensity, Skellig has been busy gathering driftwood and other dried sticks into a pile, binding it with cord that they had brought with them in their pack.

Also, he has found himself a hunk of dried kelp, crisp from the baking sun where the tides had laid it upon a rock, salted by the sea.

When he has deemed it 'safe' to approach her again (he can hear her muttering, understands the words she is speaking) he wanders back in her direction, bundle of firewood over one shoulder, their pack over the other - mouth full of the dried seaweed, chewing happily.

An eyebrow is raised at the meat, and he smirks.

"I would be honored to share your kill." A pause. "But I will cook it, first."

Kreyu rumbles in agreement. She'll leave the whale meat near wherever he builds the fire.

She pads over to the freshwater pool, mutters more syllables. "Water that touches the pool or passes through the pool safe now for three days."

She drinks downstream from the pool, not wanting to contaminate HIS drinking water with what she has been eating. Once she's sated her thirst, she trundles back to the ocean to wash the blood off. She dives into the water, scales not troubled by the salt. She, she might be rolling around on the rocks to get some of it off, like a horse or a dog trying to rub on the ground to reach an itchy spot. It probably looks ridiculous.

The driftwood is deposited near the pool - close enough to the sheltered overhang that it will add heat if needed, but far enough away that if she chooses to remain in this shape of her soul, she would not crush it - and Skellig works to build a pit in the sand, and it is when he glances up to find where she has put the meat that he notices her rolling on the rocks.

He stifles a laugh, and works to build the wood into a shape for an efficient fire. There is a knife in this bag, somewhere, but for now he simply uses a talon to slice the meat into chunks, in preparation for spearing it onto a stick for roasting.

And then she huffs and squirms with greater 'effort', and now he cannot help but allow his laughter to escape, the sound carrying easily even over the roar of the ocean beyond the shoreline.

Kreyu pauses in her rolling at the sound of his laughter, upside down, wings askew, perched at a frankly ridiculous angle. She makes an inquiring noise. What IS Skellig laughing at? She's glad to hear it though, glad to hear the Light in the emotion.

Getting herself upright again takes a bit of flailing. She shakes, like a dog, shedding most of the water back into the ocean. Now drier and relatively clean, she pads up toward Skellig. She can't get RIGHT next to him, not in this shape, but she can be in his general area.

She traces a glowing arc in the air, mutters something sharp. "To keep biting things away," she murmurs. She yawns hugely, her mouth holding enough teeth to make a shark envious. Her stomach is so full that her belly is a bit distended, and now that she has eaten she's so very sleepy....

Skellig quickly snaps his fingers together and coaxes a bit of flame to his fingertips - this is a skill that he can only sometimes manage, one that brings back an echo (of orange and black stripes, fur?) to his mind that he is unsure of the origin, but soon enough the driftwood is burning, and his 'dinner' is cooking.

"You should rest."

At her glance, he rolls his eyes slightly.

"I will sleep once I have eaten."

"Good," she rumbles. "You should rest too, been through so much, you must be tired."

Violet eyes blink slowly, then stay closed as she drifts into slumber. At least this shape doesn't snore, a small mercy.

Skellig watches her drift off into sleep and shortly thereafter finishes his 'dinner', the whale tenderloin is a new experience for him, but not unpleasant - especially after topping it with some crumbled dried kelp for an added hint of salt. He drinks from the pool where it is safe for him to do so, and eventually finds himself perched on a rock near the shoreline, preening his wings.

(There is salt on his feathers and occasionally he catches a bit of spray when a particularly fierce wave rolls in and crashes below him, but he is not bothered by it - it is just another way to remind himself that he is here, wherever this is, with her. Though with each passing sunrise and sunset, here is becoming more of where he is comfortable, and echoes of other places, other times, other worlds are becoming harder and harder to hear.)

When he reaches the damaged spot where he tore feathers free, he pauses. The image of her bleeding out flashes back into the front part of his mind, causing his heartbeat to race briefly as anxiety and panic threaten his senses.

"No," he mutters firmly. "She is not hurt, she is safe, you will protect her."

But she was hurt because of you. Akatan wanted to make you suffer so he hurt her and it is your fault she nearly died.

"It is not--"

Yes it is, you know it to be true and you do not deserve such mercy from a dragon.

"I do not need her mercy." He grumbles at the ocean, fingers working to shove his feathers back into place. "I have done no wrong to her."

But wrong was done to her because you are here if you were not here she would not have ever gotten into this mess in the first place.

"She loves me." His words are faint, nearly swallowed up by the salt and roar of the waves beyond the rocks. But they are firm. Defiant. "I do not know why she has chosen me as her mate, but she has and she loves me, and I love her. She is my dragon. And I am her owl."

You are just a beast. A mongrel.

"Even so." He huffs, irritated at the voice (where is it even coming from?) shrugging as he finishes his efforts at preening. "I am better as a mongrel than most can hope to be as men."

His fears, his inner critic given voice, perhaps?

He is right though, he IS better than most can hope to be as men. Kreyu would tell him that if she was awake right now.

There is no light pollution here, in this new world. The stars are vast, numerous and bright to his eyes when dark comes at last. Her heart beats, slow and steady as a drum.

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