katyafeline | (no subject)

(no subject)

Bizarrely, despite months of being a night owl in the bar, Katya has almost resumed a 'normal' human sleep cycle. Still, she wakes up in the early morning hours most days before the sun has bothered to show up, and spends the hours watching the sleepy peaceful world through the window.

One of those mornings, she feels that with a new world, and a new (and possibly, scarily Watchless) reality, she needs... a little more newness.

One hopes that Skellig isn't too easily spooked.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(It is a perfectly valid story, and he will stick to it with her.)

"Give it time."

Something will happen. Especially if he manages to fly today.

"As long as there are no lobster monsters," he adds.

"Already ate all the lobsters." She reminds him - she won't be wanting lobster for a good long while. Actually, she was good with sleeping in the sun for most of that day, and some of the rest.

"And the butter."

The nap in the sun had been glorious.

When the sun breaks over the treeline, he reaches for his cigarettes.

"Today I will try again."

"Da?" She's been trying not to push - she's from the school of 'if you think you can, do it... if you think you can't, I'm going to make you do it anyway', so can't doesn't sit well with her.

She hasn't been able to put together enough energy to shift fully to the tiger since... well. Since. It's driving her bonkers.

Skellig nods.

"I feel better. Different."

In a good way. Like her new features! It will take some adjusting, but it is for the best - for now, anyway.

She hums, turning to examine the wing he damaged (or, rather, that was damaged for him). New, more delicate fingers straighten feathers rumpled in the blankets.

(She may have to adjust the fingers. They're a little ridiculous.)

Where the burnt feathers were, before he plucked them free by force, there are new pin feathers already growing in their place.

It is easier to have her do the preening, especially when he is still half-asleep.

(He has to be able to fly, soon. She will do better to skim where there are more people - and there is likely to be real bread in the city. And he is not going to walk.)

Katya would kiss him for real bread - she is going to have nightmares about that brightly packaged... stuff that is pretending to be bread. Also, they might have cheese that isn't wrapped in cellophane and labeled 'American', which would be fantastic.

"It is better." She agrees, tucking downy little feathers back in their place. "Perhaps I should go make a haystack?"

He barks a hoarse laugh at that.

"Landing is not the problem," he points out.

She eyes him.

Then leeeeeeans over to peer down at the ground.

Then back at him.

And grins.

"I am light. That helps."

Skellig looks down at the ground. It is far. But managable.

At least he doesn't think he'd break anything?

Katya rolls her eyes at him. She really doesn't do well with can't. This could be (is definitely) why she suddenly stretches up to kiss his cheek, then in two swift steps bolts to, and through, the open window.

It's a dive quite a lot of people would be proud of... assuming there was water down there somewhere.

For a fragment of a fraction of a second, he is unmoving, sitting and watching the scene unfold.

And then, he is following.

(He is careful not to curse at her, for pulling such a stunt on him.)

Her feet rake across the tall grass before there is a rush of air and dust, and then they are both going up, with power and force of sheer will. His arms are locked strongly around her torso (and she may notice she is lighter, slightly?) and he will not drop her.

"I was going to jump--" he points out, banking right to avoid a tree.

She is laughing uproariously, unafraid and delighted. If he was trying to discourage a repeat performance with the close save, that probably wasn't the way to accomplish it.

"And now you have, da?" She asks cheerfully, stretching her hands out to pluck a leaf from the highest branch. "It is good!"

"I had better motivation."

It is easier to risk shattering your legs in a fall when the reason you might be falling happens to be one of your dearest friends, who has just thrown herself out of a window with no plans for her own safety.

He skims the treetops over the forest, careful to test just how much strength he will have for more serious flight. Once he is satisfied...

"We have shopping to do," he proclaims, raising his voice over the wind in their ears.

And then they go up.

She had plenty of plans. She had seen the feathers, they looked good. And she knew he wouldn't do nothing.

She's always been a good team player.

"Sho..." The rest is lost in a startled yelp as the world falls away far, far below.

His grip is strong (he will not drop her, and she can be confident of that) and he's playing it safe - getting them high enough to avoid detection by anyone who might be on the ground bird watching on such a pleasant afternoon.

It is not far to the city, either - visible in the distance as a small patch of urban sprawl, some high-rises clustered around the center.

(Definitely smaller than Moscow.)

The death grip she has on his arms relaxes after they fail to go tumbling out of the sky.

Eventually.

The last plane she was on was big enough that, sitting in the middle, she couldn't even tell that she was in the air.

(And that had been somewhat under duress - she had argued for quite a while that if a steamer was good enough to get her to America, it should be plenty to get her back to Europe.)

We will be fine.

Skellig has never had a reason to use a plane. Not with his own wings. Plus...the x-rays would get tricky, at the airport. There would be questions.

"I am supposed to be the crazy one." She has to turn her head and practically shout to grumble at him, but it's worth it.

"I am not crazy," he calls back.

He has plotted a course into the outskirts of the city before, the other times he has been here, that will avoid too much detection.

This is something she can do, even at her low power - tweaking the lines of causality, the people below suddenly finding other things to catch their attention, other things to look at, other things to do.

And, actually. She's very very happy they're closer to the ground.

They touch down behind an auto-parts store; while she ensures nobody wanders around the back of the building, he grabs his coat (it's better to not ask where it came from - but he's got talents for a reason) and shrugs it on.

There's a bit of a wild light in his eyes, too - but that always happens after a flight, and her emotions helped.

For the record, Katya does not kiss the ground once she has her feet firmly under her again.

She doesn't kiss him either, but that's because she's too busy peering around the edge of the building to see where they've ended up. The first thing that strikes her is it's so... big. Clearly there wasn't any fear of running out of space here.

"This place is easiest to get to," he offers, once he has straightened out his coat to the point where it only looks as if he's got a serious case of bad posture. It is warmer with the coat on, yes, but not entirely uncomfortable.

(Questions are worse. So is the name calling.)

Skellig extends his hand, if she wishes to take it.

"There is a real...store. Grocery," he corrects. "Closer to the center. It should have bread."