"That was much less...jarring," he comments, once she has finished checking him over and he 'rejoins' her. "Perhaps as our bond is already so tight, it is less difficult for you to find your way."

He is at least clean and dry (the kilt is a goner and deserves the fires of the Lair if it is not given instead to the depths of the ocean first) and even with the state he is in, he is safe.

"...and no, I cannot swim. I was never taught, and my body...I am light, except when my wings are waterlogged, and then I just...I am a mess."

Skellig sighs heavily.

"I am a mess. I got nothing from your list. Nearly adopted a child," he grumbles. "Could imagine THAT when you'd come to find me on this beach."