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

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

Kreyu intended to dance in the sky with Skellig the very next day, but events have conspired to prevent that from occurring. A raid on the village by former soldiers meant many wounded to heal and much damage to fix. Akatan's sister, Neferet, has a definite crush, an infatuation, with Skellig. She hasn't done anything but look and exchange some friendly words, but it still makes her brother FURIOUS.

For all that Euripedes was from a different time and place, a line he had Medea speak in the play of the same name still rings true: "I would rather stand three times in the line of battle than once bear a child." Even with Kreyu's magic, with Taweret's skill, childbirth is incredibly dangerous. There are reasons why Taweret's goddess image of She Who Is Great has elements of the hippo, the lion, and the crocodile, a fearsome appearance to drive off the many threats facing a woman giving birth. The second birth in a week began this morning and was still going on when the sun began to set. Not a good sign.

Skellig, trying to burn off nervous energy while Kreyu was working, happened across a few of the village men drinking. They said things about Kreyu they should not have said. That he was FEEDING on Kreyu, drinking her blood. There...may have been a fight. At least they don't think he's a demon anymore, you can't give a demon a black eye in a brawl with your fists!

It is truly night now, and Skellig can hear Kreyu's tired footsteps on the road...

(OOC: Warning for explicit adult content starting around tag 194.)

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His brief feeling of frustration - he had gotten up to nine rocks, and was so close to ten - is washed away when she wakes and speaks to him. He smiles brightly, teeth flashing in the firelight.

"I have."

Then he sniffs the air, realizes his tenderloin is threatening to get slightly crisped on one edge, and hurriedly moves to pull it back from the fire. It has to cool a moment (but he'll still try to eat it while it's just a touch too hot) before he works on polishing it off.

"I brought the shells for you," he adds. "There is one that is near the color of your eyes."

Violet.

Kreyu is clearly VERY pleased that he has found shells, sought them out for HER. When humans want things, feel intensely about objects, some of that karma clings to them. Karma that dragons crave.

"That's very sweet of you, Skellig," she rumbles. "I would be afraid to touch them, like this, but I would like to see them."

"I will show them to you," he says to her, finishing off his meal and tossing the 'skewer' stick into the flame, as he has done with all the rest. Standing from the blanket (his kilt has been folded neatly and used as a pillow since the first night when he decided to preen along the shoreline - he sees no point in wearing it in this place) he gathers up the shells and walks towards her head.

"This one is the one," he holds it up to her. "That reminds me of your eyes." It is a violet colored shell, perhaps of a snail or other creature. He selects a larger piece, smooth and flat. "This one is grey, but it is smooth, like your scales...this one..." he holds up another. "...it is heart shaped."

That should be self-explanatory.

Another. "This one is more ridged, but it is brown and white, like my wings are."

"They are lovely, Skellig." She admires each shell in turn, listening intently to what he says about it, just as if it were the finest art there ever was.

"I know I have not been the best company, of late. This shape's needs are easing, finally. By morning, I should be able to take the shape you know best again. Should be able to touch you without harming you."

And it surprises her just how MUCH she wants to be able to do that, to touch him.

With the shells safely in one hand, he extends his other to touch her on the side of her 'cheek' beneath her eye - technically, he's only able to really reach her lower jaw, but it is the best he can do.

The scales are smooth, hard. And although they would look 'cold', they are warm beneath his touch as he strokes gently.

"You have been fine company. I would not ask more of you than your soul requires." He sighs, then leans in and presses his face against her scales, his cheek resting against hers. She is massive compared to him, and he is so very close to her mouth, which is filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. And yet, he is not afraid. "I will be glad to have you in my arms again, whenever that may happen."

She takes comfort in his touch, his warmth. "Not as glad as I will be to be in your arms," she tells him, soft. It's not a CONTEST of course, merely a feeling.

"Would you like me to tell you of the stars?" she asks. "Useful things or fanciful, I have both."

"I would like that," he says. "Last night I was up the entire night, until near dawn. I have never seen so many stars in all my life."

A thought strikes him.

"If it...if it would not bother you, I could sit upon your shoulder, where I was earlier while we were flying?" He offers. "I would move before we slept, to ensure my safety. But for now, if it is not...offensive to you?"

"No, not at all!" Kreyu replies. "I would be glad to have you there."

Her body is warm under him, her scales smooth. Her heart under him, so very close. It's not her human shape, but it's intimacy of a kind.

A small spark of light flies up into the air from one of her talons. "You see that grouping of stars there? Well there's a story about why they are arranged that way." Heroes and monsters shaped into stars by the gods, that when this group of stars is on the horizon the time of the mother river's flooding draws near, that that star portends love when it crosses that group of stars over THERE.

If he wants to listen, Kreyu could talk all night.

Listening is one of the things that he is best at. Observing, watching, learning. He gladly soaks up her words, grateful to hear her tell tales and truths about the stars. He asks questions about others, tells stories of his own for ones that he may not see in this sky but he figures must be out there somewhere.

(And if they are not? Then these will be his new normal.)

It is near-dawn again by the time he yawns, eyes growing heavy. He is so very comfortable here, lounging atop her body. But he knows that he cannot sleep here, and it is with great reluctance that he moves back to where it is safe for him beside the fire.

He is certain to leave enough room for her to curl up with him (the blanket is easily large enough for two to lay atop, as well as the one that covers him) in case she finds that she is able to shift back to her more 'familiar' form once the sun breaks the horizon.

With his chin resting on his folded arms, he looks over at her. (The firelight causes the violet in her eyes to flicker as she holds his gaze.) "You are a fantastic storyteller." The images she has painted across his mind with her words will ease his dreams, keep any Darkness far at bay. There is so little of it left in him now, that his discomfort has greatly eased. He yawns again, then snuggles deeper into the blanket, his body curling in on itself as he loses his battle to stay awake until the sunrise.

(He would much rather have her in his arms, but he knows that some things cannot be rushed.)

She soaks in his stories, his presence.

"Thank you, love," she tells him, before he falls asleep. For everything.

She feels the change with the dawn, takes the shape he knows so well, wings and all. The sea salt all over her from her baths did not bother her scales, but DOES trouble her skin in this shape. She pads quietly to the spring, washes the salt from her skin, dries off by the fire.

She curls up with him in their nest, wraps her body around him. Warm, Safe, things are right with the world again as she lets herself drift off to sleep.

It is past midday before he wakes again, sunlight streaming through the trees near the edge of the beach to cast pockets of light on the place where he chose for their 'nest'. He is only partially awake, then startles because he cannot hear her heartbeat, the deep slow sound of the dragon gone from his ears - where is she - and he is already moving to rouse himself, needing to go find her.

Then his brain registers that she is wrapped around him and stirring (since he has woken her) and the relief that hits him is like whiplash.

"There you are," he whispers, voice a little shaky (thanks to the adrenaline rush). And he means it in so many ways.

"Sorry to startle you, love," she says, soft. She doesn't know WHY the adrenaline hit him, that he feared she was gone.

"I did not wish to wake you, when I came to bed."

"It was not...I did not hear your heart at first."

Skellig shifts his body to better allow for her to sprawl atop him, like he knows she likes to do. He also might be wanting to cling a little closer to her. He doubts she will mind.

"It is much different, the rhythm, when you are dragon-shaped," he explains. "My ears had not yet adjusted, when I woke...I thought you were...gone."

She could simply have gone flying, or been out hunting another meal, or scouting the island in greater detail. But then, he figures he still would have heard her.

"But you are not," he adds, voice steadying.

"Oh, I did not even think about such a thing." She flushes. "I am so sorry, Skellig."

She leans in to kiss him, soft. He can cling as much as he wants.

When she kisses him, he returns it softly - but then laughs under his breath as he exhales. He is a little flustered - how could his brain have been so slow, so foolish? She is here with him, his arms are around her, there is no reason to worry about anything.

"I am just more nervous than I had realized." He says, subconsciously trying to apologize as he runs his hand over her arm. Her skin is soft under his fingertips, familiar.

"Understandably so," she tells him. She smiles, runs her fingers through his hair, soaks in his touch. Her lips are soft as she speaks against his skin. "My valiant, winged, knight."

There is salt in his hair, and it has already lightened subtly from the last few days spent in the sun (both here on this island and time spent in the desert), and it feels so very nice to have her fingers running through it, even if it is dirty.

And her lips on his skin are also nice, a comfort. She will feel him eventually relax better beneath her touch, his nerves calming as his reassurance grows that she is here with him.

"I only did what any man should have done," he says softly. Clearly downplaying just what he did to have her here by his side, in this moment.

Edited 2024-04-06 13:28 (UTC)

Her eyes are violet still, the wild, the dragon, close to the surface. "Some men would not, and a great many COULD not, have done what you did."

As her hands touch, as her lips move over his skin, OTHER hungers are starting to stir within her. But he may not be ready for such, yet. She will not rush, not push.

Skellig's mind flashes back once more to the image of her on the table, of her blood on his hands, her blood filling his lungs as he gave her own space to breathe once more in her chest.

"It was...complicated."

Taweret's look of awe and wonder is there as well, as is her comment about owls and death, and beating back Death's grasp upon Kreyu. It makes him shudder, a whisper crossing through his mind before he pushes that image aside and hardens his mind slightly against it - a sort of 'keep out' sign posted upon the door, because he does not want to deal with that right now. Not when he wants to focus on her.

"But you are right." He hugs her tightly, presses his lips to her hair. "Many men could not."

She soothes with her touch, her lips, tries to drive whatever is haunting him from his mind. They can just cuddle, for a while.

Eventually, she laughs softly, as her body stirs with desire. "Such sweet folly, this one desires," she tells him, kissing him on the neck.

Holding her close, cuddling with her in his arms - these are all important things, good things to work to reset his mindset and bring him back to an even keel.

"I would like to go flying," he says eventually, stretching his body out beside hers and allowing his limbs to slightly untangle from hers, feeling his muscles stretch and shift. "I...I think it would help."

Allowing his 'owl' brain to take control for a bit may push what it is that haunts him further back. Flight while she was hunting was useful, in that manner.

"I was also pondering flying with you," she says, gaze slightly wicked. "We can go as we are, care not at all who sees or hears."

She stretches her wings out. "Will be good for both of us."

Skellig (who up until this moment had not considered that option as one that they might accomplish on this 'trip') glances over at her as he rises to his feet, stretches his wings.

Sees the gaze in her violet eyes.

"Oh."

His heartbeat quickens in his chest, wings flaring involuntarily as his eyebrows lift, understanding just what she meant versus his suggestion.

"Only if you desire it also, my dear," she tells him. She whispers the spell that will carry words between them while they are in flight again.

"We can court in the air another day, another time. Make all the sailors wonder at our ecstatic cries elsewhere." She's teasing, a little, but she really DOES mean it. They can just 'fly'.

"I had merely not considered it," he says truthfully, stepping closer to her. "You mentioned you were not sure how your hunger would translate into other...appetites."

That kiss that he leans in and plants upon her mouth? Will likely ease any concerns she may have about his desires.

He has missed her. Missed this part of her, of them. They can launch skyward in a minute, but for this second he is going to kiss her with his feet planted firmly on the sand.

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