08 - Sophae 02 - Ow My Head
-
When Saephra came to, her lungs were on fire. Weakly moving herself upward, she propelled herself to the surface, towards the fresh salty air. Breaching, she drew in a brisk breath, ease settling through her frame. The storm seemed to have abated. She considered the circumstances previous to her impact. What was that light? It had to be some sort of magic, she mused. Still, she didn’t think that kind of effect would have been anything in /her/ toolbelt, so to speak. Speaking of which...how much time had passed?
Saephra swam back to the harbor, and upon arriving, poked her head above water, and noted it had only been give or take 45 minutes. /Good/. She decided to call it a day, and nurse her throbbing head. She still had a bit of ointment left from a gathering a while back that should clear it up in no time.
She shed the upper half of her skin in the vertical passageway, as usual. Gingerly, she touched the bruised spot on her head. Well, it would soon be bruised, at any rate. One hand on her skin, Sophae pushed open the hatch, and pulled herself inside.
From pure instinct, triggered by the barest hint that someone’s breath that /wasn’t hers/ occupied the room, Sophae launched herself at the figure in the corner with more speed than most would be prepared for. It was like crashing into a brick wall. Sophae crumpled against a plane, invisible in the air, and dropped to the floor like a dead weight. As she drifted out of consciousness for the second time that day, the figure bent over her and spoke.
“Now really, is that any way to treat a concerned friend?”
-
Sophae was in her bed. With a mild amount of growing concern, she realized she was also dressed in her sleeping wear. Then, realization took her and she vaulted out of the bed with panic, not bothering to disguise it. /Where is it?/. Casting a glance around the small interior, her skin was nowhere to be seen. Sophae felt a shriek build up inside her, but was terminated as the door, the /outside door/, opened. With her injured head, and the background glare overwhelming her pained eyes, Sophae took a moment to adjust.
“I’m delighted to see you up and out of bed so soon! I told Melvin, I said, she’ll be fine, nothing a strong selkie like her can’t handle. Melvin was worried about you, you see, he’s a softie, not like you dear.” There was an indignant hiss, as a pair of eyes emerged from the jacket draping the figure. “What? Nothing I said wasn’t simply so, no need to get all worked up about it -”, the figure stopped in its cheerful diatribe, noting the panicked look on Sophae’s face. “Of course, I took great care to put your skin in the little case where it belongs. Wouldn’t do for that to fall into the wrong hands.”
Sophae, deflated from her adrenaline spike, staggered to the box and opened it, revealing her skin. Relief centered her, and she closed and stowed her skin safely. She turned then, slowly, and said in an even, albeit somewhat weak voice, “It’s good to see you too Clarize. Just...wasn’t expecting you /here/. I was...delayed coming in, so I couldn’t meet you upon your disembarking.”
Sophae got up and located the ointment for her now twice injured head, and began applying it. Clarize watched with a detailed eye, now much more subdued.
“Not much fazes you dear, what happened? Details may be important”
Sophae recounted the storm and the strange lights to Clarize. Upon completion, she asked, feeling a little sheepish at her conveyed state of helplessness, “Was that sourced from you? Uncommon for more than one to be aboard the same vessel, isn’t it?”
Clarize settled on Sophae’s cot, next to Sophae. “I’ve been using /The Windy Isle/ for quite a bit now. It’s not uncommon for attention from me or my kind to bring others to flock, sometimes unknowingly. As for who...not it wasn’t me. I wonder...but that can be reflected on later, in a proper manner. How is your head? I apologize for the manner in which I deflected your onslaught, but you didn’t leave me much time to make a more considered move. I fear I would not have fared well had you reached me,” Clarize ended with a wry grin. While she had been speaking, Melvin had slithered from underneath her jacket and was pooling in Sophae’s lap.
Sophae gingerly touched her head. “Better now, thank you. You gave me quite a fright. But I understand as to your defense. What are you doing in the city?”
Clarize’s face clouded over and Melvin tensed. She did not respond for a few moments. “There are...developments that are most troubling should they continue unhindered. We can speak on it more later. But first, let’s have fun. It’s been too long. And nothing is of such concern it cannot wait an evening!”
With Sophae’s head feeling better, the two took turns in the interior of the boat changing and preparing for the evening. Eventually, laughter in the air, they departed the dock, Sophae in a dress she secretly hoped Naylia would like, and Clarize in an elegant green jumpsuit, dark green blazer over the top. As the pair made their way towards a dwelling behind The Stout Lighthouse (for that was where Naylia resided), a watchful eye in the right direction might have noticed something strange. As they passed the large and looming Port Authority building, a gargoyle’s eyes seemed to follow them. Even stranger, a keenly focused ear might have heard, barely audible against the seaside air:
“My lord. She has arrived. And she is accompanied by the port warden.”
Saephra swam back to the harbor, and upon arriving, poked her head above water, and noted it had only been give or take 45 minutes. /Good/. She decided to call it a day, and nurse her throbbing head. She still had a bit of ointment left from a gathering a while back that should clear it up in no time.
She shed the upper half of her skin in the vertical passageway, as usual. Gingerly, she touched the bruised spot on her head. Well, it would soon be bruised, at any rate. One hand on her skin, Sophae pushed open the hatch, and pulled herself inside.
From pure instinct, triggered by the barest hint that someone’s breath that /wasn’t hers/ occupied the room, Sophae launched herself at the figure in the corner with more speed than most would be prepared for. It was like crashing into a brick wall. Sophae crumpled against a plane, invisible in the air, and dropped to the floor like a dead weight. As she drifted out of consciousness for the second time that day, the figure bent over her and spoke.
“Now really, is that any way to treat a concerned friend?”
-
Sophae was in her bed. With a mild amount of growing concern, she realized she was also dressed in her sleeping wear. Then, realization took her and she vaulted out of the bed with panic, not bothering to disguise it. /Where is it?/. Casting a glance around the small interior, her skin was nowhere to be seen. Sophae felt a shriek build up inside her, but was terminated as the door, the /outside door/, opened. With her injured head, and the background glare overwhelming her pained eyes, Sophae took a moment to adjust.
“I’m delighted to see you up and out of bed so soon! I told Melvin, I said, she’ll be fine, nothing a strong selkie like her can’t handle. Melvin was worried about you, you see, he’s a softie, not like you dear.” There was an indignant hiss, as a pair of eyes emerged from the jacket draping the figure. “What? Nothing I said wasn’t simply so, no need to get all worked up about it -”, the figure stopped in its cheerful diatribe, noting the panicked look on Sophae’s face. “Of course, I took great care to put your skin in the little case where it belongs. Wouldn’t do for that to fall into the wrong hands.”
Sophae, deflated from her adrenaline spike, staggered to the box and opened it, revealing her skin. Relief centered her, and she closed and stowed her skin safely. She turned then, slowly, and said in an even, albeit somewhat weak voice, “It’s good to see you too Clarize. Just...wasn’t expecting you /here/. I was...delayed coming in, so I couldn’t meet you upon your disembarking.”
Sophae got up and located the ointment for her now twice injured head, and began applying it. Clarize watched with a detailed eye, now much more subdued.
“Not much fazes you dear, what happened? Details may be important”
Sophae recounted the storm and the strange lights to Clarize. Upon completion, she asked, feeling a little sheepish at her conveyed state of helplessness, “Was that sourced from you? Uncommon for more than one to be aboard the same vessel, isn’t it?”
Clarize settled on Sophae’s cot, next to Sophae. “I’ve been using /The Windy Isle/ for quite a bit now. It’s not uncommon for attention from me or my kind to bring others to flock, sometimes unknowingly. As for who...not it wasn’t me. I wonder...but that can be reflected on later, in a proper manner. How is your head? I apologize for the manner in which I deflected your onslaught, but you didn’t leave me much time to make a more considered move. I fear I would not have fared well had you reached me,” Clarize ended with a wry grin. While she had been speaking, Melvin had slithered from underneath her jacket and was pooling in Sophae’s lap.
Sophae gingerly touched her head. “Better now, thank you. You gave me quite a fright. But I understand as to your defense. What are you doing in the city?”
Clarize’s face clouded over and Melvin tensed. She did not respond for a few moments. “There are...developments that are most troubling should they continue unhindered. We can speak on it more later. But first, let’s have fun. It’s been too long. And nothing is of such concern it cannot wait an evening!”
With Sophae’s head feeling better, the two took turns in the interior of the boat changing and preparing for the evening. Eventually, laughter in the air, they departed the dock, Sophae in a dress she secretly hoped Naylia would like, and Clarize in an elegant green jumpsuit, dark green blazer over the top. As the pair made their way towards a dwelling behind The Stout Lighthouse (for that was where Naylia resided), a watchful eye in the right direction might have noticed something strange. As they passed the large and looming Port Authority building, a gargoyle’s eyes seemed to follow them. Even stranger, a keenly focused ear might have heard, barely audible against the seaside air:
“My lord. She has arrived. And she is accompanied by the port warden.”
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