OOM All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness -Part Nine

[brave_kreyu]

Kreyu has gathered plenty of henna and even woad, a blue dye, for some experiments with designs on Skellig's skin.

"The blue would look lovely on you, I think," she remarks. "Your fairer skin would show it off quite well. Though I am far more experienced in applying henna."

She's gathered bits and pieces of designs to look at for inspiration. Celtic style knots, viking style abstract patterns and stylized beasts, the mandala and floral type designs he's admired on her, and more.

Comments

[27_53]

"It will be intriguing to see how my persona is shaped over time," he admits. "If I must be honest, before I found myself in the desert I paid no attention to such thoughts, as I had little reason to look forward towards the horizon."

He remains still while she works to finesse the line work on his skin.

"But all of that has changed." (Meeting her, their union, his most recent 'conversation' with Death...all of it has adjusted and shifted things.) "You have rescued me," he says. "That is no myth."

[brave_kreyu]

"It will be," she agrees. "You might pick up some influence from various Gods of the hunt or the forest as well. Some of them are depicted winged, and most are lovers or husbands of an Earth goddess of one kind or another."


"And you have rescued me," she replies. "My heart and my mind before my body, but a rescue all the same."

[27_53]

"I have seen the owls of the desert back home," he says. (His reference to 'home' is to the village, in this case.) "Their feathers are colored a bit different than my own. I am not as adept in shifting forms as you are, but if it would help things if...if I were to blend in...I could try to adjust them."

There is a slight hint of something in his voice she will pick up on - it is not outright hesitation, not sadness, just...something. She will likely understand it, as she herself has probably felt like the 'outcast' or 'oddity' many times over her lifetimes.

"Though I know with my skin as fair as it is, I will always be a bit different," he says. He glances down at his chest, at her hand resting on his skin - and while his tan is slowly improving, it will never be the same as a native of the region, and he doesn't expect that. "And that I do not mind."


[OOC: The owls Skellig is referring to are known today as the Pharaoh Eagle Owl. Wiki Link, Image in Flight.]

[brave_kreyu]

She leans down to kiss his forehead. "I do not think it would make a great deal of difference, and I would prefer you not need to make an effort, when you are known here as my husband." She does know that feeling, would not wish the discomfort of it on anyone.

Happy with the charcoal lines, she begins to put the woad on his skin. "You are unique, my love." She pauses. "At least, I think you are unique." She sighs. "There was a story, involving a Goddess of the Wood, and a man born with the wings of an owl, who became her lover and husband. My brother has spoken to me of the Winged Folk, but he has only spoken of those with wings of diurnal birds."

"I had thought, thought that it might be a clue as to your own people, your kind. But I have heard the tale only third hand, and the people from whom it came have suffered terribly from dealings with dragons in the past."

[27_53]

Skellig is interested by this information, but he does not press for more details - especially after she adds the comment about the Winged Folk suffering, even though he doubts highly that any of her brood had anything to do with such.

"It would not be wise to traumatize them just in search of answers," he says. "I do not need to know where I am from, or if I am even related to their kind. I belong here," he taps his fingertips gently on his chest near his heart (away from where she is working to apply the woad, mindful of her efforts as she applies the dye) "With you.

He sighs happily.

"Besides, if I am unique...that just makes our relationship that much stronger. Because it strengthens the fact that I am the only one you would choose to have stand at your side."

[brave_kreyu]

They did not, but those Winged Folk are understandably leery of any dragon!

"You may be able to ask them yourself someday," she muses. "Or we may mend relations with them through intermediaries over time."

"You would be unique even if there many thousands of your kind," she assures him. "My Skellig."

"Would you hear the tale, as best I can remember it?"

[27_53]

"Your Skellig," he affirms quietly. "Only yours."

This is a different type of intimacy, one that he is finding he enjoys just as much as their other 'activities' they get involved in.

"Of course I would hear it. You are a fine storyteller, and I quite enjoy listening to your voice, no matter the subject."

Nevermind the fact that she has him held 'captive' here in this nest, as she applies the color to his skin, and he must sit still to avoid it from smearing. He still enjoys being this close to her.

[brave_kreyu]

She is visibly pleased when he says she is a good storyteller and that he enjoys listening to her voice.

"The name of the people, of the tribe, varies, but the stories agree that they lived near a great forest. The tribe depended on the forest for their survival, for building shelter, for food, for goods and pelts to trade with other tribes."

"Most of the stories say a boy was born among them who bore the wings of an owl, though the difficult birth killed his mother and his father had died of fever some months before he was born. Others suggest he was a foundling, that they found him clinging to life by a woman's body who bore wings like his."

THOSE versions were what made Kreyu wonder if there might be more truth to the tales.

[27_53]

Skellig listens carefully as she speaks - his focus is on her voice as she speaks and on her touch as she applies the dye to his skin. His eyes do close to better allow his mind to visualize the images as she paints them with her words.

None of them are outright pleasant images, but they are important to 'see' regardless.

(And it makes him wonder, just a little bit...how did he come into existence, in this world? Was it a similar origin story as these tales? While he has never known truly how he came to be, and it has never really bothered him, there has occasionally been an ache when he considers it, watching young ones play with their parents, or more recently as when he watched the way Iset gazed happily at Neferet as they waited to visit with the Great Lady.

Did he have a mother, once?)

"Not an easy upbringing, with either option."

[brave_kreyu]

"No," Kreyu replies, voice soft, and slightly sorrowful. She can't help but picture the boy as Skellig, in her mind.

"The tribe raised him as one of their own, took care of him communally. As he grew, it became clear that he was aware of things others were not, attuned to the mystical and the uncanny. They did not quite know what to make of him, how he should fit within the tribe."

She paints the woad on his skin, her touch gentle. "It was an edge life he lived, among them. Part of them, yet not fitting in. He was more at home in the wild than among the dwellings of the village. The great celebrations were the hardest for him to endure, for though he was welcome at them, the places where he did not fit with them hurt more at such times."

There is more sadness in her voice as she pictures Skellig in his place. "As he grew into a man, he learned that though they would drink and feast with him, neither man nor woman would invite him to lay with them or accept such an invitation from him should he offer it."

[27_53]

As he listens, the image of himself in the place of the boy grows more solid and stronger, as he knows all too well the feelings she is describing - the feeling of being the outcast, the strange one, the 'freak' among those who would call themselves 'normal'.

"Community helps," he says quietly. "If one is lucky enough to have one to surround them. But it cannot replace the bonds formed by family."

[brave_kreyu]

"No," she agrees. "I understand that now, more than I ever did before."

"The tribe worshiped many gods, but the greatest among them was the goddess of the forest. The stories paint her in different ways. In some tales she is more of an entity to be feared, appeased. The tribe lets their own blood for her as an offering from time to time, and when she is very hungry a person of the tribe might be devoured outright, vanish in the forest. In others, she is gentler most of the time, but can be angered greatly by disrespect, by not receiving her due from humankind."

[27_53]

"She sounds as if she is not one to be trifled with," he comments, voice wry. "Though some of that legend could have been aided by those who simply wandered into the forest not to return, lost their way, and their disappearing needed a better explanation other than a poor sense of direction."

He is careful not to laugh, even as he might like to.

[brave_kreyu]

"Indeed. Or someone who chose to leave the tribe without telling anyone," her tone is wry.

She is careful as she paints on his skin. "Some tales say she grew angry, withheld her bounty. Others that the tribe gave a greater offering than normal at long intervals and when the time came they could not offer Her the greater bounty. The tribe agreed that someone must go into the forest, seek the Goddess, plead for their sake, but they were afraid. They knew that whoever went might never return."

"He who was born winged volunteered to go, to enter the forest in search of the goddess."

[27_53]

Listening carefully, she has his full attention now - and it is not only due to her 'prowess' as a storyteller, or due to the subject matter (and the 'main character' of the one who was born winged) - and his gaze is focused on her hands as she works on him.

"Interesting that he would offer himself as a potential sacrifice," he says. "Perhaps not out of a desire to gain the appreciation of his tribe...could have been due to the fact that he felt as if nothing could be worse than the feeling of being outcast."

Not even death. Death might have been a relief...

[brave_kreyu]

Her hands are moving slowly but deftly as she applies the woad. There is sorrow in her voice and her face as he mentions his reason as to why the winged man might have offered himself. "The stories do not speak of WHY he made that choice, but that reason had occurred to me also."

"I do not know that I could stop myself from trying to ease the pain of one so burdened. Especially now, when my mind would cast you in such a role."

"He knew the Forest well, its ways and paths, and he was strong and clever. He traveled to the forest's heart, to a spring where She was rumored to sometimes come to bathe."

[27_53]

"Speaking honestly..." Skellig sighs, bringing a hand to rest on his stomach - he is not interrupting her motions, but part of his subconscious simply wishes to feel a bit 'closer' to her, nearer her touch as he does so. "I have wished before to have Death call upon me, have asked Them in my darkest moments for the pain to be taken from me. Obviously...there were many reasons that did not occur, that I could not have understood at the time."

The largest one being the surprise of his arrival in an arid desert and being rescued by a winged goddess...and falling madly head over heels in love with her.

(There is more he wishes to say, but he does not want to interrupt her telling of the legend, so he holds his thoughts for now.)

"If I was the one born winged, I would have studied the forest in great detail. Found places to hide, seek sanctuary..."

[brave_kreyu]

"Oh, love," she says, voice full of sorrow, empathy. "It had occurred to me that Before might have so deeply wounded your being as to prompt such desire, but I had hoped otherwise."

She sets the last line of the design into place, now the dye will have to sit for a time. "I am sure that he must have done precisely that, for he felt enough at ease near the spring that he dozed off."

Her smile warms, turns a touch amused. "From his sleep, he heard someone bathing in the spring, heard a woman's voice singing softly. He knew it must be the goddess, for no one else would have dared to bathe in the spring. He did not wish Her to think he had lain in wait to spy on what was not meant for him to see, but he wanted to see her, to know the being responsible for so many wonders, for this place that felt more like home to him than any other."

She chuckles. "And I suspect that the stories saying she was supposed to be quite lovely didn't hurt his desire to see her either."

[27_53]

With the design being finished (at least this one) he waits for her to set her tools aside and then takes his hand and grasps gently for one of hers, bringing them to rest on his stomach.

"The sight of a lovely goddess bathing in a secluded forest spring WOULD be quite desirable," he says. "I can speak from personal experience."

[brave_kreyu]

She's pleased when he takes her hand, places them to rest on his stomach. The contact, the closeness, feel nice.

She laughs at his response about personal experience. "Hm, I suppose you can," she teases.

"He decides it is wisest to speak up, and so he does. He explains to Her that he did not intend mischief, but that he was so weary he fell asleep."

Kreyu grins. "She laughs, the sound like birdsong. She tells him that she knew he was there from the beginning, that she has always known where he is when he is within the forest. She tells him she has watched him many times, for he alone is unafraid of her, seeks to KNOW rather than simply TAKE from the forest."

[27_53]

"Knowledge is one of the most important things that can be gained. Watching, learning, experiences...I cannot tell you how many things that I have learned by simply sitting on the earth, watching as the world passes by."

He settles into the nest, relaxing slightly with the contact and the closeness.

"But you have to be willing to offer something in exchange, no matter how slight. Balance also matters."

[brave_kreyu]

Kreyu nods in agreement.

"Balance is the issue in many of the tales. The forest is a part of her, and she gives so much to humans that she needs more energy to sustain the forest and herself. He begins to wonder if his life will be taken to feed her, feed the forest, one life for many."

"And then the goddess emerges from the spring, without any shame at her nakedness. The sight of her rather brought him to his knees."

Kreyu's smile turns a little wicked. "I have my suspicions as to why. And if his ache to be touched, to be wanted, was as keen as mine was before you, I would imagine that only made things worse." None would lay with him, after all, in the stories.

[27_53]

"I would dare a guess that his ache may have caused...complications," he agrees, his smirk shifting to match her her wicked smile when she mentions the things that she was feeling when she first saw him, as he shed his clothing in front of her to change into something more...appropriate. "Though there should be no shame in nakedness, especially not when the divine are involved."

After all - aside from that first meeting of theirs when he was so truly lost, and not wanting to cause HER any embarrassment with his nudity - he has felt no true shame or fear with her, showing himself as he is.

[brave_kreyu]

"Blood rushing away from his head," Kreyu quips, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I have always thought so, but there are cultures who would disagree about nudity," she replies.

"She thought him so very lovely, when she saw him standing there with his wings." She's not just talking about the goddess. "A mind that wanted to KNOW, a heart that was unafraid, a form so lovely, she wanted him so very much in that moment."

[27_53]

Allowing his wings to stretch slightly from where he has them tucked, her brings one leading edge to graze her shoulder, his feathers brushing against her skin - softly, as he doesn't want to stir up too much arousal in her, when they have to behave to allow the dye to set and dry on his skin.

"Did she suggest to him that they lie together, there by the spring? Would that be enough of an offering to sate her appetite, for what had been taken from the forest by the rest of the tribe?"