brave_kreyu | OOM All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness -Part Three

Not only is the pain loud, but the energy is harsh and jagged, and Skellig has to grit his teeth as they step into the room, because damn that hurts.

"Opium will not fix that," he mutters under his breath, through a clenched jaw. Crossing the distance, still following Kreyu - because this man is clearly not to be trifled with, even in this condition that he is in currently.

"Ahmose," he speaks, a bit more firmly, pushing his own discomfort aside. His words straightforward and basic. (He can sense the disorientation, the opium cutting through some of the pain, but not all of it.) "I am Skellig, a friend of Kreyu's. I can work to fix this, but I'll have to touch you."

It is less of an ask for permission, more of a warning. His eyes dart to Kreyu, basically asking if he tries to knock my head off, you'll knock him out?

"Please," Ahmose begs. "Anything, it HURTS." There's pride and then there's stupidity, he KNOWS he needs help.

Kreyu nods in answer to his unspoken question.

When Skellig puts hands on him, he'll confirm what he likely already suspects. The injury is BAD. Not as bad as it COULD be, but bad. The nerves and the spinal cord are intact, but bone is displaced, pinching on the nerves as they run out of the spine and into his leg. And if the bone moves the wrong way or heals with bone spurs, it COULD cause damage to the spine. In the world he came from, something like this would be treated with surgery, with metal pins to hold the piece of bone in the right place as it healed.

Here, without magic, even if he could somehow keep the bones exactly where they are for months while he heals, it would mean a life of agony that even opium won't quell. But Skellig has magic, has more energy he can pull from in his bracelet, from Kreyu, from Neferu's desperate hope.

Kreyu did not get to witness this process from an outsider's perspective the last time he worked, and while the injury is not as immediately critical as hers was, it is still quite serious.

Skellig is careful with his hands, one moving to the back of Ahmose's neck briefly (where with Kreyu, his priority was stopping the bleeding, stopping the tearing of flesh and tissues as she struggled against Death's grip) to allow his reach to extend to the pain receptors in the mind, taking off some of the sparks that are crackling along the aggravated spinal cord, the nerves screaming. He needs less tension, and taking away the HURT will help greatly.

Once he is satisfied (Ahmose is still awake, but the opium will find it a bit easier to work now) Skellig's focus shifts to the spine, gritting his teeth once again as he cocks his head to the side, staring at the dark bruise that covers the skin (seeing beneath it with his ears, listening to the muscles and tendons and nerves that are still quivering, screaming, why is it so loud in here) intently.

(His feet are again just barely touching the floor.)

A few words are uttered under his breath, then he shakes his head, huffing in frustration before his posture changes, his fingers twitch, fingertips pressing against the bruise. Ahmose sucks in a pained breath, but Skellig's eyes don't shift away from what he's staring at.

(Coaxing a vertebra back into alignment is not a quick or simple task, even in circumstances less stressful than this.)

The colors of the bruise shift slightly, there is a noticeable reduction in swelling beneath the skin. Adjusting his jaw, he moves his hand a little lower, then a little higher. After another pause, Skellig's gaze quickly darts to look down at Ahmose's left foot. He scowls at it briefly, pausing once more. Then the foot twitches, and Skellig hears Ahmose exhale, relief mixed with pain.

"There you are," he mutters, voice low (but pleased) as his expression shifts into more of a smirk. "That's what I wanted of you."

Kreyu smiles, reading success in his words. She doesn't speak, but reaches out to touch Skellig gently. An offer of energy, if he needs it. She's intrigued by how he heals, how it is different from the healing she knows. He is a WONDER!

Skellig does not need the energy desperately, but since she is offering it freely to him, he will take a hint of it - Karma and Light no longer clash like warriors when they meet, but intertwine happily instead.

"He will rest easier tonight. By morning it will have eased enough he should be able to bear full weight on that leg."

The combination of lack of pain and opium have dragged Ahmose into sleep, but Neferet is still awake. "Thank you," she tells him, voice thick with happy tears. Her energy is all relief, joy.

"I have never met a finer healer," Kreyu tells him. "Neferet, I will settle matters properly with Mama tomorrow, but If we could take advantage of her hospitality for tonight.." Kreyu has fished a golden necklace with tiny dangling charms from their bags. "We've had quite the journey."

It is AMAZING just how fast the necklace disappears into a pocket of Neferet's dress. "Of course!" Neferet replies. "Your usual room, and then the baths?"

"Please. And if Huy still keeps odd hours, we could use a few items of clothing."

Neferet waves a hand in dismissal. "No trouble for old friends." Kreyu tells Neferet what she wants quite specifically, though the meaning of a lot of it is likely to go over Skellig's head.

Neferet leads them through winding corridors to a different part of the complex. This section is grander, more elaborately painted. Neferet opens the door to a room with a bed, chests, and a small dressing table. The furniture is quite lovely, decorative, the wood carved with lotus flowers. A garden with lotus ponds is painted on the walls, and the air hums gently with Karma, like Heka's bolt hole did. Neferet slips Kreyu a key. "You can come right on down to the baths when you're done," and takes her leave. Kreyu helps move their treasures inside the room.

The room has echoes, nothing UNPLEASANT, but it's clear to Skellig that this room is USUALLY rented hourly for pursuits of a sexual nature either with a lover or with one of the sex workers who are employed here.

To his credit, Skellig is only partially listening to the conversation between Kreyu and Neferet in regards to the requests for clothing and other items; his focus stays on Ahmose, occasionally 'tweaking' a thing here or there until they take their leave.

So yes, most everything goes directly over his head.

Once the door has been latched behind them, their bags set down safely, Skellig quickly allows his senses to sweep through the room - and then he barks out a laugh when it becomes crystal clear to him that his earlier suspicions were indeed correct.

There is a nervous energy about him, full of adrenaline and pride and something else; another laugh, this one more of a personal one, private - that he would only share with her. She is very close to him, so there is no true distance to close as he spins on his heel and pulls her to him, arm wrapping around her waist as he kisses her firmly on the mouth.

His 'victory lap', as it were.

She was about to ask what he was laughing at, when he pulls her into a kiss. She's quite content to press her body to his, return the firm kiss.

"Something struck you as funny?" she asks when the kiss ends.

Edited 2024-04-18 01:57 (UTC)

"Not so much funny as it is more...a release of my energy."

He keeps his body pressed to hers, but does not 'push' any further.

"I would have you hold onto it," he adds. "Until later, after we've had a chance to bathe." Skellig glances around the room, his eyes falling to the mural painted on the wall. "And we've eaten."

"An excellent idea," she replies. She kisses him gently. "It's not far."

They stow their bags in one of the chests in the room, then make their way to the baths. There are a series of rooms that make up the baths, Kreyu leads him into the first one. The room is mostly filled by a limestone tile lined hot tub like structure, heated by a fire burning somewhere in the basement.

Someone has thoughtfully left them a tray with some kind of stuffed breads and two mugs of beer, perched on the edge of the tub.

Kreyu smiles. "Lovely." She carefully disrobes, puts her clothes on a shelf, and climbs into the water.

Skellig does not hide the fact that he watches her disrobe - there is something so very pleasing to him about watching the linen slip from her skin, revealing the form he has come to know so well. He is wearing less, so once she has entered the water, he follows suit - his kilt placed onto a shelf, then he takes his place beside her, allowing his body to adjust to the heat as he settles.

"Very much so," he agrees. Reaching for the mugs of beer, he fetches her one, passes it over.

She's smiling as she disrobes, very much aware that he's enjoying the sight.

"Thank you, love," she sips the beer, finds it good. "There is soap, for washing, in a bit." Oh, THAT's what the box on the tray is!

"If the bread has what I think it does in it, I'm sure you'll like it." The bread is something like a naan, but thicker, and when he breaks one open, it has been stuffed with dates and honey.

"I have found I trust your judgement," he replies, sipping also at his beer - a welcome relief to his throat, after their travels. "Also, your choice in beds. You have yet to lead me astray."

The light in his eyes is clearly evidence that he does not suspect that will be an issue anytime in the near or distance future. After another few swallows of beer, his hunger gets the better of him, and he samples the bread.

The expression that crosses his face, as he takes that first bite?
Very close to some of the expressions that she has put on his features.

She laughs, low, at his comment about beds.

She's visibly very pleased at his expression when he takes that first bite of that bread. Then she grabs one herself, takes a dainty bite. They're still warm, so the honey tends to....ooze a little.

She leans into him, enjoying the bath, the snack, and his company. Sometimes, life is good.

Skellig is less dainty than she is - but he doesn't make a total mess of himself as he eats and drinks, content to absorb the heat from the water and the closeness of her body against his.

"We will spend several days here?" He asks, eventually. "Gathering things, before meeting your brother?"

"That's the plan," she replies.

A young girl pokes her head in the door, smiles shyly, carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth. "I have what you requested, Lady Kreyu."

"Thank you, Maatkare. If you could put it on the shelf, please."

The girl does, then bustles out again. Clearly, she has other errands to run.

Kreyu smiles. "New clothes for you, and sandals."

Skellig is only slightly startled by the young girl's arrival - after all, he had heard her coming down the corridor easily, despite his focus remaining on Kreyu - but keeps quiet during the exchange.

He does eye the bundle curiously.

"You had mentioned I might require other items," he muses, thinking back to how he saw other men of the city dressed earlier - both those they encountered walking along the streets, and then the revelers in the courtyard of this place. Some of them were clearly dressed in a finer quality of attire.

Then he stretches his feet, flexing his toes beneath the water.

"I have gotten used to barefoot, since arriving here, in such a state," he means the desert outside the village, where his boots had vanished when he found himself wandering. "But I would wear what you would have me."

(Skellig has absolutely no idea what she has planned for him, later.)

"Safer to wear sandals in the city, greater chance of sharp things to step on unexpectedly." And, of course, more people mean more mess to potentially step in.

"You'll like the feel of finer linen on your skin, I think," she tells him. "Not silk, but it's nice."

She leans into him some more.

(If he has no idea what she has planned, then it will be a nice surprise!)

"You will spoil me," he teases gently, sinking a little further into the warm water of the bath as she cuddles into him.

He has Kreyu, he has had a snack, there is beer, he is warm and comfortable. What more could a man desire?

"And it makes sense." A smirk crosses his features. "I seem to suspect that your reputation comes with a higher social class than that in the village."

Kreyu chuckles. "Wasn't intentional on my part, but I suppose no one thinks someone who can do magic belongs in the lower social classes."

She flushes. "My understanding of how much things were worth was a bit...skewed." Given the draconic tendency to hoard wealth because karma tends to cling to it and the fact that a dragon doesn't really NEED to exchange goods for services often...

"I typically relied on handouts, trades," Skellig offers, with a shrug of one shoulder. "I seem to recall that I have long since played the role of the beggar. From what I can catch in my memory."

(There still isn't much, and what is there is worsening, the static becoming thicker and more difficult to sort through. He isn't outwardly concerned, and only mildly bothered inwardly...)

"It may be useful to teach me currency, before we go to the markets. Or what would be more 'normal' in trade, for things you are looking for us to gather."

Edited 2024-04-18 12:10 (UTC)

Beggar is not a word Kreyu knows, but she can glean some things from context. "Trade is how it works, trading what one has for what one desires. Coins are valued by their weight and their metal. There is generally some bickering over the price until an agreement is reached."

"Gold and silver are useful for trade because they keep and they are widely accepted, but one might trade anything anywhere, if you can find a buyer who wants what you have."

"That makes sense, well enough."

Skellig reaches up, brushes an errant strand of hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear, the motion familiar. And if his fingertips linger on her cheek for an extra moment? Then so be it.

"I am known to be rather persuasive, if the need arises."

She leans into his fingertips. "I had thought about braiding my hair, but that would deny us both the pleasure of tucking it back into place."

"I've certainly found you so," Kreyu replies. "Though I am of course quite biased." She reaches up to his hair, pats it gently. "Would you like me to wash your hair?"

Skellig shifts one eyebrow, intrigued. "I...I have never had someone else wash my hair." His voice is a little puzzled. "You would do such a thing for me?"

(This is not entirely true - there have been a few instances where he has had his hair washed by another, but not in a situation such as the one they are in now.)

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