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.

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"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."

She twines her fingers around his and tugs, eager to explore.

"I don't know - you called that other thing bread, it was not such a good omen." She grins, teasing.

"It is what I know as bread!"

Just because some people have standards, honestly.

"That is just sad." She snorts, pulling him along. She is apparently oblivious to the stares that follow.

It's possible she's causing them on purpose.

Silly people. They're just getting in the way of her journey to bread.

Skellig notices the staring, but it does not bother him. He once sat in a subway tunnel for two days, just to earn enough money to buy a loaf of that plastic-wrapped 'not-real-bread'. Lots of people stared then. He didn't care then and he doesn't care now.

"Beggars cannot be choosers," is all he says, grinning.

"This beggar will choose, and you will see what I mean tonight." She retorts defiantly. She's practically dancing down the (not quite sparkling) street, happy to be amongst people again.

A passerby raises an eyebrow at Katya's comment - probably due to the way Skellig laughed when she said it.

Some people, he man thinks, with no lack of disgust.

She blows the poor human a kiss, since clearly his world needs a little lightening up. The next one who frowns at them is going to get his bum pinched, just you watch.

He is able to avoid most of the negative energy that surrounds them (it is a nice day outside, after all if it was raining or cold, moods might be worse) and it helps.

So does the sound of screeching (happy screeching, mind) children coming from a schoolyard playground up the block.

If she could turn flips without being potentially hauled away as a madwoman, she just might. Children and lovers - they've been the greatest source of strength (for both sides) for ages.

"Come on." She pulls on his hand impatiently, with most of her old energy.

Skellig obliges, quickening pace to match that of hers.

"All right!"

She is insistent, and it is one of the things he likes about her most.

While it might be easy to scale the fence, she stays put on the sidewalk. Even the craziest mamma can be an angry bear if an unknown gets to close, and she has no desire to get into that particular fight today.

"Better." She assures him, however, leaning on the fence. It's possible she's even forgotten about the real bread for the moment.

He also leans against the fence, keeping an eye on their surroundings while she watches the children.

"Good," he says, and he means it - it is very good that she's better, because that will make it easier, in the long run. Bread can wait, if it means this.

"They help," he adds.

"They do. They always have - the youth camps were one of the best things Communist Russia achieved." Which is a sad thing for a Light Other to admit, buttragically, their grand coup didn't exactly work right.

"I don't remember Communist Russia," he says.

(He has been around for awhile, but not anywhere near Russia. The details tend to get fuzzy.)

"But anytime they are together," he nods at the kids. "They believe in the unseen easier."

And Skellig will soak that up like a sponge.