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

Kreyu snorts. "Or my brother has all the finesse of a bull in a pottery shop when it comes to magic."

"I would like to teach you, just for safety's sake."

She combs her fingers through one of his wings. "You did far more important things than shopping," she assures him. She flushes a little when he mentions the child. "I, I would not have minded," she confesses. "If the child truly needed us. It would be easier, once we are more settled, but.."

She smiles, cups his face. "We would have managed."

"If her mother had been too far gone when I had arrived, I would not have left her," he offers. "Thankfully while her body was weakened, her soul had not. I could not tell until I entered their home why exactly I had been pulled so fiercely, if it was to act as a healer or if she needed... an escort."

Skellig is still clearly a bit bothered by his lack of 'control' over his abilities, even as they are strengthening.

"Her name is Neferet," he adds quietly. "I could not tell exactly what she can sense... she was able to see my wings within the shadows, knew they were of an owl... knew the shadow of her sire was full of rats."

He brings his hand to his neck, fingers touching the amulet which now has the additional holey stone tied onto the cord. "Her mother felt shame for not been able to pay me, I argued there was no need, but Neferet gave me this."

She touches the rock, gentle. "Loved, for Karma clings to it," she says. "And stones such as these DO have a use in certain magics, particularly wards."

Neferet has good instincts, perhaps.

"Humans who can sense such things without training are as rare as dragons," she explains. "Literal, metaphorical, both or neither, impossible to say at this point." She chuckles. "You find the most wonderful treasures, my love."

"I would train Neferet myself, when the time comes," she adds, finishing off drying Skellig's wings. "She needs to be with her mother now, and I fear my teaching is not best suited to a beginner. But, when she is older...."

"She will benefit from your guidance," he says firmly. "That I know for certain."

Once he is dry enough that he feels as if he would be able to fly without issue, he looks to her and the glances toward her bag which rests on a rock nearby.

"Did you at least manage to get enough for us before I interrupted with..." He waves a hand towards the water's edge. "...my mess?"

"I have enough for dinner and for breakfast," she tells him. "We'll need to come back here tomorrow in any case, track down any other cases of the White Death before they have a chance to spread."

She caresses his cheek. "Would you like to come home with me, Skellig?" she asks. Her voice drops low. "I promise I don't bite," she teases.

"I would have done more, but the need to get rid of the Dark was...pressing."

Even with how harshly he sent Light energy flooding out into the surrounding area as he'd stepped outside the front door, he knows there are places he likely missed.

He tips his head firmly towards her hand, nuzzling her palm in a way that is much more "owl and beast" than it is human. Something in her words strikes him hard, deep in his chest, centered in his soul.

"Please."

There are likely many reasons her words strike him so hard, so deep, in this moment. Kreyu is, in every way, the opposite of the man in his memory. A being more powerful and of higher social status than that man could ever imagine whose instinct toward those in need is to help, to kindness. She is a part of his soul, his wife, his love. She would never let him want in such a way again so long as there was breath in her body. She loves all of him, accepts all of him, VALUES all of him as precious.

She packs the bag, takes his hand, and they head home to the Lair. The Karma soothes jangled nerves and this 'nest' is perhaps becoming familiar to him. There is a spare kilt for him in one of the chests in her portion of the Lair and she unpacks their bags. "You may want to rinse off the salt in the hot spring," she suggests.

"I will do that," he says. His mind is slightly on autopilot as he moves about the space, and even if his nerves are being slow to relax, his muscles and body are showing visible signs of improvement. Skellig gathers up a fresh kilt, another cloth to dry himself, and then takes his leave - pressing a kiss to her hair in silent gratitude as she works to continue unpacking.

He isn't long in the hot spring, but does take a few moments to collect his thoughts, tries to organize them even just slightly.

"She would never spit upon you," he mutters quietly to himself as he wipes away the salt. "You are better than that. Worth more than that. Not a freak."

There is a sting behind his eyes that threatens, but he allows it to fade as he finishes cleaning up his body of the salt, collecting his thoughts a moment before he returns to 'their' section of the Lair, their nest, which is becoming more familiar and a comfort. He can smell some of the Chai tea as he enters, spots a cup waiting for him on the table.

She smiles so bright as he enters, Joy in her energy. "I cheated and picked up some things for dinner that I wouldn't have the faintest idea how to make," she admits, flushing a little.

She has no idea how the little filo tarts with a spiced lamb and vegetable mixture in them were made, it might as well be some strange magic!

There are some filo tarts with honey and blackberries for later too.

"When it comes to food, especially after a long day such as this...I am not adverse to cheating."

The sense of joy and Karma and Light and love are enough to bring a smile to his face, one that actually MIGHT reach his eyes. It appears to him as if she has everything under control, so he perches in his chair, pulls the mug closer to him.

"They smell amazing," he adds.

"They do! I know there's cinnamon in them, and some other spices, but she wouldn't tell me what they were." Trade secrets.

She places the little tarts between their places at the table, sits down, then leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "And she had some with blackberries too. I remember that you liked those on the island."

"I do like blackberries," Skellig responds with a nod, adjusting his 'perch' so that he is close to her while eating. The tarts are comfortable in temperature to eat without having to wait - and he is still feeling a bit drained from earlier.

After a few bites:

"I suppose I like most things, if only because I did not have the ability to be picky, Before."

"That would make sense," she replies, voice soft. Her heart aches, for what he suffered Before. "But you can be as picky as you like, now."

"I picked up something to put on your skin too, will help after the sun and the salt today. I can put it on you, after we eat, unless you'd rather put it on yourself?"

"I would appreciate your help," he says, before adding: "It will feel good to have your hands on my skin."

Bringing a hand up to the side of his neck, he rubs gently at the area that he angered earlier - it does not hurt now, not after she had healed the irritated skin with her Karma. But the memory lingers.

"Thank you," he adds. "For taking hold of my hands. I was not...I was not thinking, I simply felt...dirty."

"I'm glad I could help," she tells him. "I, I worried for a moment you might try and fight my grip. I don't know what I would have done, if you had."

"I hope my touch will be a balm in many ways. Perhaps even a pleasure." Her smile is just the tiniest bit wicked with the word 'pleasure'.

"I could not see myself harming you," he says. "Unless I was truly detached. If I ever were to fight you, please...do not hesitate to put me in my place for my own good."

Skellig tries to match her smile with one of his own, and it partially works.

"Your touch is always a pleasure," he says. "Even just the simple contact of your skin against mine, we do not even have to be doing anything..." He leans over slightly as if to demonstrate, his upper arm meeting hers. "And it soothes my soul."

"I would not let you hurt me," she assures him. Which....isn't EXACTLY what he requested, but it might do.

"It soothes me too," she confesses. She nibbles on her tart. "Like sprawling in dragon shape over my brothers, but....different." She can't quite describe what she feels.

That is not exactly what he requested, but he is much too tired to argue the semantics of it. He starts in on a second tart, crunching the dough happily - these really are quite good, and he is honestly just grateful for the food itself.

"If that is something you need to do," he says. "I would not mind it if I was to sleep alone, while you all rested together. I could manage well-enough."

"I might, but not anytime soon." Her smile turns wry. "Especially since Revenin is likely to need time to...cool off."

She starts on her second tart. "I think I would dream of you, even then, when I'm all hard scales and pointy bits." She chuckles.

"I was able to find a decent spot to rest upon your scales," he points out. "Even in times when we were not cheating with spells. I would have slept upon you while we were on the beach, if not for fear of my safety should you roll over unexpectedly."

He shoots her a slightly sidelong look.

"You are cute when you roll around, though."

She snorts in surprised laughter when he tells her she's cute when she rolls around. "Am I? I'm not sure anyone else would describe me that way, love."

"I am..." he lifts his shoulders slightly "...not anyone else."

His accompanying smile is a bit broader, not quite a grin but very close. "It is just...you allowing yourself to be free, move without consideration for what you might look like, just wanting to feel good. I can tell it pleases you to do so...and your energy is quite joyful, in some moments. It is...cute."

She flushes a little, part pleasure and part embarrassment. "Mostly, what I feel like before I start rolling around is ITCHY."

She snags the blackberry tarts, puts them next to the others. "It feels good, when the itching stops and whatever is drying on my scales is gone. And stretching out is good too. I have to be so careful with how I move. The world, the world isn't built for me at that size."

She touches his cheek gently. "One reason I'm so fond of this shape. So much easier to interact with things without fear of breaking them, like this."

"I will admit I am quite fond of this shape of yours also," he says, bringing his hand up to meet hers and weaving their fingers loosely together. "But for reasons other than being fearful of breaking you."

Now his smirk is a little wicked, playful.

He plucks a blackberry from one of the tarts, it is softened by the baking process but still 'solid' enough to pull free, and pops it into his mouth. A soft sound of pleasure follows from his lungs.

"Perhaps even better than the ones before."

She flexes her fingers where they are woven with his, an acknowledgment. "No, you have a very gentle touch." In bed and out of it.

She catches the wicked, playful tones in his smirk, matches it with her own. That noise he makes causes her heart to speed up, prompts heat start to coil in her gut. "Heat and honey do lovely things to fruit," she purrs. "I should see if I can get my hands on some figs tomorrow."

She plucks a berry from her tart, offers it to him, brushing the fruit ever so slightly against his lips.

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