27_53 | (no subject)

They need to stock up on a few things, eventually.

It is only normal, after all. Even if this is anything but normal, with her here and both of them still having trouble with things that should be normal. He cannot find the bar (he has not really gone looking, not after the other day and how much it drained him to try) and she is nowhere near able to go looking, either.

So they make plans to head to the coastal town a few miles down the road. It will not be a long walk. There will be cigarettes, there. And maybe even lobsters, if they are lucky.

(He hopes they are lucky. The lobsters deserved it.)

He has his coat (as always) and he's gotten the most of the blood out of it. There are a few tears that need mending, still, but they are unimportant.

"We can cut across the field. It is shorter, that way."

Following the roads is for boring people, apparently.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

From:

katyafeline

That earns another squinty-eyed glare, one that Olga would be proud of, before putting the 'bread' back where she found it and stalking in a flurry of irritation toward the front of the shop.

Whereupon she smacks straight into the local Puritan-esque attitude towards a young-looking woman who's buying hard alcohol and cigarettes this early in the day.

From:

27_53

At least the liquor laws don't prohibit alcohol sales before noon, otherwise Skellig is sure that the poor old man behind the counter would hear an earful.

He waits patiently in line behind her, with his snacks and a few tins of soup.

(And a bottle of vodka. He would not expect her to share after the apocalypse.)

He is also going to buy cigarettes.

The poor shopkeeper is going to wonder what sort of heathens have invaded their sleepy coastal hamlet, at this rate.

From:

katyafeline

She finally convinces the guy to let her buy the much needed supplies, and managing through a dint of glares and obviously thorough knowledge of her alcohol to avoid getting carded. She pays him, the pebbles in her pocket somehow transforming themselves into dollar coins when no-one was looking.

(Coins are easy. Paper money is harder, so she avoids it when possible.)

That done, she takes her spoils and makes her escape before she can give in to the temptation to ask the guy what he was thinking, not having proper bread.

From:

27_53

Skellig is behind her, momentarily.

Sporting a new pair of sunglasses.

(It is bright, here.)

He has his bag in one hand.

"Now we should find lobsters," he says, nodding down the street that winds to the docks. "If there are any here. I have seen fish, so. Maybe."

From:

katyafeline

She startles, momentarily, at the sight of Skellig in sunglasses - it reminds her of her patrolmates, and she wasn't expecting it.

"If they are here, we shall find them, and then we shall eat them." She declares, tapping out a cigarette.

The end obligingly lights itself, after a couple attempts. She makes a face at her own current lack of ability - this is getting a little ridiculous.

From:

27_53

"I did buy a lighter," he points out, pausing in walking to do the same - only he lights his the traditional way.

He is still too damn tired to try anything else. Including caring about what tourists think of him and his companion.

"It would be easier."

From:

katyafeline

"Da?" Katya asks politely, not entirely sure what he's getting at. The street is a gentle hill, thankfully, so she can focus on sucking down smoke (even though even the cigarettes are impossibly mild here).

From:

27_53

"Than effort."

He snaps his fingers, to indicate the lighting of the cigarette. Clearly she should have understand, right? He thinks so.

The closer they get to the water, the more birds there are. Watching them from behind his sunglasses, he feels his wings itching where they are folded tightly against his back beneath the coat.

He is going to be annoyed with not being able to fly very soon. Useless.

A man who has been fishing on the pier unloads his catch from a bucket to a cooler. Skellig makes a face at the sight of the small fish in his bare hands.

That? Is disgusting.

From:

katyafeline

Katya is about to joke about how what they should really have is kippurs on toast (if they can find any bread worth eating) when someone screams.

Her head whips around fast enough to risk injury. Halfway out of the harbor, an in-expertly piloted boat flounders as it tries to turn, and a woman at the stern points frantically at the water, even though most other boats in the area are too far away to be of use.

In the water, a little boy Katya recognizes flails, churning the cold water in a completely inept attempt at staying afloat.

From:

27_53

Skellig has honed in on the source of the scream before he even realizes it (the pitch had hit his ears a half-second before the sound really did) and he draws in a deep drag of his cigarette when he spots the boy in the water.

"...damn."

He can swim, but it's easier with a dive from flight. And flight...will tax him, right now. More than is probably safe.

He exhales a breath of smoke from his lungs and drops the cigarette to the ground.

This is going to be a long day--

From:

katyafeline

"All the lobsters." She reminds him, as she shoves her bottle of vodka into his arms. "Not a single one left." She makes a gesture not many people on this side of the Atlantic would recognize, but a trio of holiday-makers down at the other end of the harbor are suddenly not having a good day at all, grumbling at each other that they should have gone up the coast a bit to somewhere with actual culture.

Katya has taken off down the pier (she's going to pay for this later, in spades) and launches herself off the end in a flat dive.

Tigers love water.

From:

27_53

Well.

If she is going to do the rescuing of the boy, then he is going to do the rescuing of the vodka. At the moment she impacts the water, he drops himself onto a bench on the pier, setting their bags down beside him.

A seagull lands on the rail beside him, tilting its head curiously.

Wherever Skellig got this piece of bread from, it's better not to ask, but he begins tearing it up into small pieces as a crowd of onlookers (a few random tourists, the owner of the sailboat rental firm) begin to gather in concern.

The mother is still screaming. He wishes she would stop that.

From:

katyafeline

She strikes out with the same energy she puts into most things, proving that even city tigers can swim with the best of them. The boy goes under right before she reaches him, in one last spray of water and panic. She dives after, ignoring the mother's incoherent and, frankly, impolite suggestions, and hoping the father doesn't manage to run them both over when they come back up.

The only thing she can say in favor of the boy is, now that he's stopped flailing, it's easier to haul him back to the surface than she feared.

From:

27_53

To those watching, it may seem that the odd man in the dark coat has more interest in feeding the gulls than the drama on the high seas unfolding in the harbor. That is not the case.

Behind his sunglasses, his eyes are focused on the spot where she and the boy disappeared from view. He is reaching for a connection, ignoring the way it bounces and ripples with each muffled slap of the wake chop against the side of the sailboat. He will not lose her, no matter how tired he may be.

The seagull hops up to perch on his shoulder. Skellig hands it up a piece of torn bread, before popping one chunk into his own mouth.

A loud squawk erupts from the bird, protesting.

"Hush, you."

He focuses harder on the glitter on the water. And then he stands.

(If the boy has stopped flailing, he is going to need help.)

"Watch that," he orders to the gull, motioning at the bags of vodka and soup tins, before he begins to walk towards the end of the pier to meet her.

From:

katyafeline

The boat is closer, but she strongly suspects that if she tries to haul them up there, either the boat will capsize, the parents will panic, or some unhappy combination of both. So she's pulling back towards shore, following Skellig's connection like the beam from a lighthouse.

(It's more real than anything else around here)

The mother's invictive follows her back to shore, and she doesn't have the energy to try and block it. Wearily she slaps a hand on the end of the pier, gripping hard, and eyes the boy held in the crook of her other arm.

The things she does for lobster.

From:

27_53

Skellig reaches for her arm, first, and then for the shoulders of the boy (he really is not a light child, even with the water adding a bit of assistance in keeping him afloat) to haul him up onto the pier. He kneels beside the boy's still form, ignoring the puddle of saltwater that is soaking into his jeans at the knees.

He doesn't check for a pulse.

He doesn't roll him on his side to force him to choke out the water.

(The mother is still yelling, but he tries to block her out as best he can. He needs to focus.)

With his hands on either side of the boy's face, he leans in close. Close enough to let his forehead fall against that of the boy's.

(The onlookers are rushing towards them. He only has a few seconds.)

And Skellig reaches--

and he does not have to reach far, because the boy is not that far gone, yet. he will be in a moment. he is laughing. there is a balloon, blue, bobbing along behind him. there are birds overhead, on the air, rippling in an unnatural rhythm (heartbeat) in time with the (heartbeat) clouds.

"Come on," he grumbles.

the boy turns and looks at him, waving. and then he goes to run away, laughing, but before he can take a step in the opposite direction, he is hit with a wave as he stumbles and falls to the ground. his face crunches into pain and fear. he opens his mouth.

-- the boy screams, and Skellig sits back hard on his heels, almost as if hit by an unseen impact.

(She will notice that he, too, is breathing harder than he should be. His eyes are closed behind the sunglasses, and his lungs are burning with the sting of saltwater. That was harder than it should have been.)

From:

katyafeline

She swears, softly and feelingly, as she struggles out of the water. This was supposed to be a relaxing day, a day with vodka and cigarettes and all the lobsters, and somehow they're both draining their reserves again over an idiot boy who would not wear his lifevest.

Dripping wet and ignoring the cold for now (it is still much warmer than the Gloom, much warmer than winter in Moscow), she curls an arm around his shoulder, sharing the strength she has left.

(It's getting easier, the more times she does it, the more she learns him.)

And now she can make a protective gesture against the mother's cursing, and some of the pain goes out of her posture.

From:

27_53

The birds overhead are screaming, angry and disturbed by the ripples. Thankfully the one standing guard by their vodka is not upset, or hellbent on destroying what Skellig tasked him on keeping watch over.

"Don't overdo it," he warns, under his breath.

The boy sits up, and is helped to stay upright by another woman who has arrived with her husband. Someone mutters that he is so lucky to have been brought to the surface just in time. Skellig snorts at the idea of that being luck.

From:

katyafeline

"Yes, mother." She retorts, in a quiet laugh. "Now try to look heroic." Katya has spotted a fisherman coming in their direction looking fairly impressed, and she has designs on the man's lobster catch.

From:

27_53

It takes a bit of strength (his and hers) to focus on 'looking heroic', if only because he does not often play the part.

(Most of the time, he sticks to the shadows. It is easier that way.)

Skellig busies himself with ensuring that the boy is all right. It is best to act like he is actually concerned, if he is to be a hero, right?

From:

katyafeline

Katya, honestly, isn't entirely sure how it goes either, but they must have put up a good front - she doesn't even have to say much beyond 'hello' before they are being praised.

It is weird. She resists looking behind her to see who he's talking to.

She also manages to keep the victorious grin off her face when he gets to the part of 'what can we do for you?', which she was certainly hoping for.

"Please sir," She gives him her most winsome grin, the one that earned her the reputation of being able to charm most of Moscow, including a fair amount of the Day Watch (despite her predilection for chewing on Dark Others). "I am visiting my friend here, and he said that I should have the lobster, since it is the best, here. Could we buy some?"

He, of course, will not hear of it. He will not take their money today. And he has many lovely lobsters to give them.

She manages to not look smug either.

From:

27_53

He also manages not to look smug - and even accepts the brief offer of thanks from the parents of the boy. They are much too concerned with the safety and well-being of their son to truly focus on his rescuers, but that is often how it goes in situations like this.

They make their way to the fisherman's boat.

(He fetches their bags on the way, thanking the seagull for his dedicated service.)

And once they have another large sack of lobsters to add to their haul (they are going to clearly put some in the freezer to save for later, with such a quality stock they will be eating delicious lobsters for months), and the tourists have all wandered off to find something else to occupy their time, Skellig reaches into his pocket.

He lights two cigarettes, and then passes one to her.

"Perhaps we should find you a towel."

From:

katyafeline

"Bah." She snorts, after taking a very-long-awaited drag on her cigarette, "I shall sun on the roof, and you shall boil the lobsters."

Still, right now she could almost wish for a good rainstorm, to wash the salt off herself. She's forgotten how itchy salt is.

From:

27_53

"That will work too."

They stop back at the market to buy butter. (He did not want it to completely melt, by the time they walked back up the road towards 'home'. He also was waiting until they had lobsters to drown with said butter.)

He intends to walk out of town along the road, as to not raise any major suspicion. Once they are out of sight, however, he is all about abandoning the small highway and disappearing back into the grass.

"You are much better swimmer," he comments.

From:

katyafeline

"There were times it was useful." There are precious few things she was taught that are not, when it comes down to it. "And there is a lake, by my house..."

Is, not was - she still hasn't surrendered, not entirely, the dream that she will get back to her home someday. But her tone is much more wistful than it has been before - someone remembering the Old Country, rather than a simple statement of fact.

It has been so very long.