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

"Valid point."

He is a bit hungry, though not enough to rouse him fully just yet.

"If I am to have any chance at surviving you dancing for me, I will have to eat," he continues. "Feast on something other than my dragon, as much as it pains me to admit I cannot sustain myself on you alone."

She chuckles. "Much as I enjoy your feasting, you need richer fare than I," she teases.

"I had thought of going back where we were yesterday, see what's going on. I don't expect more trouble, but it would be good to see if they've been found, perhaps find out where they were from."

"They may need help," Skellig agrees.

And if there is one thing that both he and Kreyu are good at (and inclined to do) it is help.

"And I would benefit from being outside awhile," he adds. "I have noticed I am...struggling a bit with the lack of sunlight, similar to how I did while we were underground in the Lost City."

"I should have realized you'd have trouble with the lack of sunlight," she says, stroking his feathers. She shifts, somewhat reluctantly, off of him.

"Shall we wash up and then get started on breakfast?"

"Both of those are excellent thoughts."

Once she has moved her body off of his, he stretches fully and rolls over - taking an extra moment on his hands and knees before he makes an effort to stand. His legs, however, have other thoughts and his thighs protest firmly on his first attempt, and he only manages to rise up into a kneeling position.

"Love," he asks sheepishly. "Will you...c'mere and help me up?"

"Of course, Skellig," she says, worry creeping into her tone. "I didn't mean to wear you out so."

She's more than willing to help him up, whatever it takes. "Perhaps I should rub your thighs a bit while we wash up, loosen things a little?"

"I think I am just still sore from riding on horseback," he says, shaking his head. "None of this is due to your efforts."

All he truly needs is a firm point to 'brace' himself with, and pulling himself up to his feet is accomplished easily enough. He huffs softly once he is upright, and looks down at his abdomen, poking himself lightly in the stomach.

"However, I am in much better shape than I was when I arrived," he adds, laughing softly. (Not that he was out of shape, by any means!) "That, I do have you to thank."

She does look at his abdomen when he pokes himself lightly in the stomach, admire him.

She chuckles. "I am making sure your body's needs are met, and that makes all the difference in the world."

"Good food and drink, safe and comfortable rest." her lips quirk in a grin. "As much pleasant exercise as you can stand."

Skellig returns her grin with one of his own, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Never have I been so well cared for," he says truthfully, gratefully. He presses his lips to the side of her head. "Spoiled by my dragon queen with the finest offerings in food, drink, and exercise."

"How could I not, when I have the means?" she tells him, all honest innocence. "Though when it comes to exercise, I am quite selfish, I fear."

She leans into his touch. "For I quite enjoy spoiling you with exercise, making your heart race."

"You can make it race without exercise," he points out playfully, reaching up to rub at his chest. "Simply certain thoughts flashing into my mind is enough to set it to running wild. And I am certain that later when you dance for me..."

THAT will be quite a workout.

He purposefully does NOT finish that sentence, and he knows he does not need to. His stomach growls faintly now that they are both upright and fully awake, and he refocuses his attention on their plans for the day: bathing, breakfast, and then heading back out to scout the island.

"I am sure once we have bathed my legs will have recovered," he says. "Though I may not protest if you happen to have a moment to work out some of the tension in my thighs."

"It's only fair, you do the same to mine," she counters, playful.

She does rub his thighs for a bit while they are washing up, which should help with the soreness.

She even lets Skellig help with patting out the flatbread for breakfast to cook over the fire, and they turn out perfectly edible if a bit ragged around the edges.

It's early morning when they exit the Lair, a nice breeze blowing. "Oh good, we can make an early start."

Once they exit, Skellig immediately feels his senses adjust to the early morning as the light and breeze hits him - and there is a noticeable feeling of relief that washes though his mind now that he has 'recalibrated' himself with the timing of the world.

Shaking his wings out (careful not to hit her with them) he flexes his arms and shoulders broadly.

"It will be good to avoid the worst of the sun, even if it does not get as hot here as it does in the desert." His sense of direction is still not entirely accurate, but he knows vaguely which way they should be headed - though he will let her lead.

She does stare when he stretches, shakes out his wings. So very lovely, is her husband. "Will need to take my dragon shape, or we'll be all day getting there."

She casts the usual spells, and they make their way back to where they were yesterday.

Skellig will hear the voices first, people who are worried, upset, although most of the words are nonsense to him. One man is speaking the tongue of their village though, HIM Skellig can understand. "Go BACK, are you mad? They're going to want people to blame, people to punish, and we're all slaves."

"They are still here," Skellig says as he tilts his head, focusing on the one voice he can filter coherent words from. "Likely in their camp from before. Worried. They are all slaves, those that remain."

He has to squint a bit, struggling to parse through the different tongues and the rapid-fire exchange of words.

"They...might be arguing. I cannot really tell."

"We shall descend and go in closer."

Kreyu lands, takes her familiar shape, but darkens her skin until the henna on it is quite difficult to see. She also ties her hair back with a convenient sprig of a climbing wild grape. It's a good thing she packed a dress too, considering she's going to be in public.

Most of the words remain incomprehensible to Skellig, but one man is discussing something with another in the tongue of the village. "They'll kill us all, if we go back. And it won't be QUICK either."

Edited 2024-06-30 22:00 (UTC)

Skellig ensures his amulet is firmly tied around his neck, his own wings hidden as they approach the camp. His mind is split between watching her walk along the pathway in front of him (taking in this version of her form with the darker skin and her hair tied back) and listening as they get closer.

"They are afraid they will be killed," he mutters low. "That they will be blamed for the Prince's death."

Another head tilt. "And I believe most of the dogs returned. There is barking, but it is...less than before. They are not being actively told to hunt." They will still likely sense that Kreyu and Skellig are approaching and will bark, but they will likely not be chased down as they were before.

Kreyu grimaces. "They might be right."

The dogs do pick up their sent and bark, but Kreyu calls out to the camp almost as soon as the barking starts. "Hail and well met," she calls out.

The men huddle together for a moment before the man Skellig overheard approaches them cautiously. Some of the other men are soothing the dogs and the horses.

"I hope we are well met, travelers," he says. "Gods know enough has gone wrong in the past day that we need all the fortune we can get."

There are RULES about hospitality, widespread throughout the Mythic Age. A guest to one's camp is safe, is offered food and drink, so long as they behave themselves.

The man they are speaking with offers them wine diluted with water and bread. "What has gone wrong?" Kreyu asks.

"A great many deaths," he replies. "A handful of young nobles and a prince, on a fool's errand."

Even though Skellig is not truly hungry - breakfast was more than sufficient - he feels he has leaned enough now from interacting with people of this era that it would be seen as an affront or impolite if he were to decline the hospitality.

(He's also heavily following Kreyu's lead, as he sips some of the diluted wine from the offered cup.)

At the mention of the deaths, Skellig manages to act somewhat surprised.

"Are any of your group wounded? I have some knowledge of healing, I may be of use?"

He does not sense any injuries among those who were left to maintain the camp while the others of higher rank were off hunting dragons. But it would not hurt to be certain, and to possibly gain favor.

"None of us are wounded," the man replies, "though I thank you for your kindness. That fact will not be in our favor if we should head back from whence we came."

"Where did you come from?" Kreyu asks.

"Ionika," the man replies, his smile a bitter thing. "Most of us, at least. Some have seen many lands when we were being sold from one master to another."

Kreyu grimaces faintly at the mention of Ionika.

"You are of the Ring Islands?" the man guesses.

"That is where I have lived most recently, my husband is from elsewhere."

He frowns slightly at the thought of these men continuing to be hunted, hiding his expression behind his cup as he sips more at his wine and keeps mostly to himself.

Skellig is not entirely certain on how exactly the 'rules' of slave trading and masters works in this time and era. If their masters have been killed by a dragon, are they now not free men?

(And what of any family they might have?)

He does not want to look like a complete idiot, and yet the most basic of questions comes to mind:

"Is there not elsewhere you could go to seek refuge, if you cannot return to where from you came?"

"Regrettably, we have been to the ports in this region before in the course of this foolish quest," he explains to Skellig. "Therefore, we are known as slaves, and they would happily sell us and everything on the ship to the highest bidder should we be so foolish as to land there without the protection of our former masters."

"The Ring Islands keep no slaves," Kreyu says, voice gentle.

The man laughs, bitter. "Indeed, they do not. But I know Ionika has sent spies, saboteurs and assassins to those Islands in the guise of those seeking refuge. Not to mention the refugees that have fled to those isles in the past century during Ionika's wars of expansion. It would take divine intervention to get them to accept our plea for refuge there."

Kreyu looks THOUGHTFUL at that last statement.

The underlying reasoning for Kreyu's thoughtful expression is completely lost on Skellig - as is more murmuring from other men who are in the rear of the group, still working to tend to the dogs, horses, and the needs of the camp in general. He cannot understand anything that they are staying, and it is inwardly frustrating to him to be able to hear but not make sense of the words being spoken.

So he keeps quiet, simply nodding and making notes in his mind of what is being said.

"It is true that Ionika has caused much trouble," she allows. "But the laws of hospitality still hold. They will be suspicious, of course, but you will be safe and taken care of while your plea waits to be heard."

"At worst, they will refuse you, and you will be no worse off than you are now. At best, you will gain a new home where you are safe. Where your family may one day join you."

"I do not think any of us know if we have living family, save for Hector and Pollix there, who are brothers," he gestures with his head. "Kin are seldom kept together long. A man might risk the cost of revolt, might fight his captors for the sake of his child, his wife, his parent, where he would not in the face of his own suffering."

Kreyu's hand tightens a little where it rests on Skellig's knee. She IS upset, for all she is trying to be calm. "I will help you, to the extent that I can," she promises. She's turning over plans in her mind.

Skellig can sense the energy coming off of Kreyu even before she tightens her hand on his knee; he subtly reaches his hand out to cover hers, gripping lightly in an I am with you sort of motion, sending that thought across their connection as he leans forward slightly in his seat.

"We will both help you," he promises. "As much as we are able."

He does not know if he can offer to vouch for exactly what happened here in the valley; does not wish to promise anything that might put either these men (or himself, or Kreyu) at risk.

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