Ankyra Sound shovels & keys

there is the creeping chill, writhing fog that rolled off of the sea's waves; saltstone slick with seamosses and saltwater. there was the angry roar of the ocean; wild thrashing of the waves, the bone deep cold of the icy water as it splashes up along the jagged outcropping of sea hewn rocks.

it is a trek velaryon has taken many and more times.

...

and then there was darkness; nothing but an unwilling murkiness and inability to recall what had happened in the moments between.

every attempt is met with a persistent nothingness.

velaryon comes to with cool, wet sand beneath him, a lump tangled in seaweed and jetsam and flotsam of the sea. he draws in a gasping breath and coughs suddenly; unattractively hacking up saltwalter onto the sand.

every inch of his body feels battered and bruised; every muscle aching and sore but his body expels the saltwater from his stomach despite the protest of his body.

a pained groan slips from betwixt his muzzle; each rasp of breath rough like his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper.

disoriented, he glimpses 'round at the unfamiliar sound he appeared to have washed up on; every smarting nerve in his body on edge.

Rae didn't often leave Sapphique, but she figured it was time to start exploring. She had no way to know that she was a year old now, but if she had, she would have pointed to her newfound adulthood as reason for more independence. Instead she told herself that she was healthier now and had no excuse to avoid trying for more.
Unfortunately, more ended up being a tall, dark stranger seemingly beaten to a pulp and spit up by the ocean. Rae, having arrived just in time to see him rouse, sighed heavily to herself. Then she approached. Need help? Well of course you need help, ya look like hell, She peered at him with no small amount of curiosity. But do you want help? If he turned out to be an asshole, she was ready to turn around and head right back home. Rae didn't need that; Sapphique didn't need that.

distracted by his own misfortune and trying to piece together how he had slipped and fallen ... and how he'd survived while the sea had carried him here, velaryon does not immediately notice the flame kissed woman's approach.

he starts mid-trying to tug free the seaweed and ensure that nothing on him was broken, head turning in her direction with a quick, militaristic snap.

for a moment, he stares before he lets out a laugh at her telling him he looks like hell. it promptly leads to another coughing fit that expels more saltwater from his stomach.

a half pained, half annoyed noise is made deep in his throat; and tries to decide if the sea had ferried him to the underworld or if it had kept him as alive as it could while it pushed and pulled him like a ragdoll before tossing him onto this sound.

she asks next if he wants help and while the cairn was a inherently proud beast, he knew he was in no state to allow pride in. some help would be appreciated, he speaks, cringing at the sound of his voice: deep timber usually whiskey steeped in smoke now raw and rasping.

but he soldiers on.

where —, a small cough; the knowledge that he would need to find non-salt water making its presence known as rationality slowly comes back to him. where'd the sea spit me up at? because nothing about this place looks familiar.

Rae nodded when he spoke, and stepped forward to first help untangle him from the mess he'd gotten himself into. Teekon Wilds. You're pretty close to Sapphique, too. My packmates hate men or something, so I'd steer clear, She unwound a piece of seaweed, then snapped a bit of driftwood that was holding up the whole untangling process.
I'm not a medic, but I can get you some food and get you on your way, Rae explained further as she pawed at another bit of seaweed attached to him, looking for the ends of it so that she didn't just pull it tighter around him. It would be nice, she thought, if she could just chew through it, but that would be an even bigger pain. Seaweed was a bitch that way.

she moves forward to help, and he tries to hold still, working on untangling his left leg, teeth tugging on the seaweed wrapped 'round him. the ear closest to her careens in her direction, holding steady as she speaks, telling him that he was close to sapphique and offers the advice — warning, even — that they hated men and he was best to avoid it.

it draws a small grunt from him; having no real opinion upon their preferences either way. in the end, he'd take her advice ... despite that he doesn't exactly trust that it was given so freely.

is that the price for your help? for me to stay away?

I could not give less of a fuck what you do after this, my dude, Rae laughed, finally freeing one of his limbs from the tangle. And you're not in a spot for me to be asking jack shit from you anyway. Just take the help and be happy, would ya? Shit, you almost drowned, where are you even getting the energy for cynicism?
Despite her harsh words, her tone was light; she was enjoying herself. Mostly because she knew that, in his position, she would be asking the same questions. Wondering the same thing: what do you want from me? There was a certain sort of glee for her in the knowledge that she did not want or need anything from him except what he had already given; the chance to see someone in worse condition than herself, with less knowledge of the place he was in, and be able to lord her own ability and knowledge over him just a little. That was payment enough.

she works one of his legs free from the tangle of jetsam and flotsam; and he frees his other. gathering his legs beneath him, he attempts to stand on legs that are unstable. like land-legs ... but somehow worse. however long he'd spent being tossed around by the sea had left him weak.

nothing is ever free. he rumbles, swallowing harshly and wishing he hadn't.

she was right: there wasn't a whole lot of anything he could offer her. he was weak, battered ( probably bruised but fur hid that well ) and utterly and wholly lost.

it might be the only thing keeping me alive. a partial jest. an attempt to let his dark humor shine through. he takes a step on trembling legs and then another.

a sway, the ground of toes into the pliable sand; teeth grinding together in an effort to keep himself from collapsing. there freshwater nearby?

We'll call this one prepaid, Rae joked without elaborating; the price he'd paid was obvious, she thought. Plenty of rainwater around. Take your pick of puddles. I'll go track down something for you to eat. She might have tried to help him, but given their size difference and her own aversion to the touch of strangers, she couldn't wrap her mind around the logistics of it. So she only watched him struggle for a moment, then turned away.
She figured he would be sick of water and everything to do with it, and opted to hunt something on land. Rae wasn't well-versed in hunting anything but the smallest game — so it was a squirrel she pursued and then killed a little messily. Then a second, because her pride wouldn't let her bring back so little. Two squirrels was still hardly a meal, but it was probably more than enough for a sea-tossed stomach. She returned with fur tousled, trailing blood from her sloppy kills; one of them was hardly recognizable, though mostly intact in the context of a meal.

she takes off, presumably to bring him a meal — he might've protested but he doubted it would do much good. she seemed rather hellbent on helping him.

so, as she hunts, he preoccupies himself with finding as clean of a puddle of rain as he could find. at first, he drinks so much, sating a thirst that felt unquenchable until he threw it all up — turning his head away from the puddle with a quickness that saved him from having to find another.

velaryon tries again.

slower he laps at the water, this time.

it does not feel like enough, but having learnt that lesson he does not push it.

he turns at the sound of her footfalls; the scent of blood pungent on the air. finally, something other than the salty stench of the sea.

his stomach rumbles and twists at the sight of the squirrels she brings. i'll take that one, he gestures to the mangled one. you eat the other. he tries to not deepen his debt to her, despite that she has told him ( time and again ) that the debt was paid.

perhaps, velaryon thinks, she is a siren and that the sea's debt was her's. or maybe she was taking pity on him. he doesn't try to contemplate what her reasons might be; fixing her in his golden gaze, almost daring her to challenge his decision to let her take the less mangled one.

Rae was about to challenge all of his decisions, actually. She placed them both before him and lifted her chin with prideful disdain at his suggestion. I have a cache to raid back home. You have a long recovery ahead. Eat the damn squirrels, If she was really honest with herself, she wasn't sure why she was being so charitable. There were no rules that said she should, and surely Sapphique wouldn't look too poorly on her leaving some random man to die next door. If anything she thought they might dislike that she was helping him.
It just seemed like the thing to do. She'd been raised briefly by a very kind woman, though she only barely remembered her, and some of Antha's values had imprinted on her in that time.
But she was still Rae. So she turned away from him dismissively to make her point, inspecting his vomit from a slight distance. No blood is always a good sign, She observed cheerfully, but she didn't look at him. Rae was determined to leave him no room to argue with her.

it is only thinly that he veins the yearn to roll his eyes as she offers him both squirrels and turns her back to them: and him.

a bold move; but he wasn't capable of it nor did he mean her any harm.

debt paid or not, she was saving his life.

he bows his head and tears a strip of meat from the squirrel, resisting every gluttonous urge within him telling him to devour them.

throwing them up as he did the water would do no good.

anyone ever tell you that you're fucking stubborn? he asks in between bites; spittle reddening with the blood.

he takes another small strip of meat but finds little left of the mangled squirrel. he's eaten it a little too quickly and his stomach roils uncomfortably but he grits his teeth and swallows back the urge to vomit.

the Sea didn't kill me. means She must still have a purpose for me. he muses out loud, though mostly to himself.

Rae grinned at that, and nodded. Oh, all the time, She returned, and sat down some distance away from him, feeling rather pleased with herself.
Whaddaya think the sea wants with you? Rae asked next, curious in spite of the spike of derision that shot through her. She wasn't entirely sure what he meant by his words; it sounded a little insane to her, honestly. But there wasn't anything better to do than question him while she waited for him to recover enough to leave.