trouble finds you

are you telling this story or am I?

It may not seem like it, but opportunity can be found everywhere. Especially if you are a savvy merchant with a tugboat tethered somewhere off one of the skinnier branches of the Stonesong. Quite how Fiadh got this far into the Feverlands is beyond even her own comprehension. But here she is, nestled high up into the trees so she doesn't have to step on (and sink into) the stinking mud.

Indeed, she's even decided to rely upon one of her shifts for a bit of extra luck. And so it's not a merchant, but a bright green reptile that slithers among the branches. As a boomslang she quite likes it here in the humid, tangled horrorscape of the swamp, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air every now and then. Is she lost? Yes Absolutely not. She's just... taking in the scenery.

Fiadh

you promised me sunshine, why's it gloomy? we'll wait 'til the night to catch the moonbeam

Truth be told, he isn’t sure how he got here either. But what he does know is that tar fucking sucks and it’s with that thought in mind that he moves toward the trees raised high, shifting into his macaw shift — a vibrant spark of blue among the dead and dulled colors of the tar pits, before landing on a branch out of his immediate eyesight of the boomslang.

Mentally, he huffs a sigh, scanning the tar pits below, grumbling internally about how it was bullshit and even going the extra mile of knocking off one of the little seed pods that had fallen on this branch. He stretches out his wings a second later, scanning in the distance, before trying to figure out if it’s worth flying to the next tree for a better vantage point.

SUNJATA

are you telling this story or am I?

What'cha grumblin' about? Because of course, that's the problem with internal grumblings as an Attuned. Your thoughts are never really just your own. Having wound her way up into the higher branches where Sunjata is perched, Fiadh's tongue flicks out again as she worms her way closer still. Her instincts tell her to strike out with her fangs, because of course they do, but she likes to think she's a bit more polite than that.

Do you come here often? she asks, curling round and round the branch that he's hopped onto, hissing up at him for good measure. It isn't very interesting, is it? Though perhaps she ought to give it more than ten minutes before judging it.

Fiadh

you promised me sunshine, why's it gloomy? we'll wait 'til the night to catch the moonbeam

There isn’t a more apt description than the oh fuck— that bursts out of Sunjata the second the voice invades and the bright green snake makes an appearance in his peripheral. He’s puffed up, feathers on end, wings flared wider as if he’s debating just dipping the fuck out. But it’s all the macaw that’s in his mind, warning him of nothing more than death if he doesn’t move, nevermind the fact he has a billion shifts under his skin that he could change to the second she decided to attack.

So he tries to smooth his feathers, wings tucked but still tense as he glances a dark eye at the boomslang. Honestly I’m not sure how I got here. He murmurs mentally, before the macaw shakes out his feathers. Nothing but tar for miles and that shit sucks. Hence the grumbling and the tantrum of kicking that poor acorn into the messy tar-filled ground below.

How’d you get this far out here?

SUNJATA

are you telling this story or am I?

Bright laughter tinkles down the Attuned bond as Sunjata squawks and tries to look like a big scary birb in the face of Fiadh the danger noodle. Flicking her tongue out at him and wending up so she can face him properly, it's not her fault if her head weaves back and forth a bit. Call it a balance thing. Well that don't sound too good, she says. If you're gonna get into a pickle you should at least know how you got there.

Just like Fiadh. Yep.

Me? Well, I sailed. Then I walked. And then I slithered, she informs him. I can show you back if you want, but you have to buy somethin' from my boat. You gotta promise.

Fiadh

may we dance until it rains, may we drink to hide our shame. we're all pretty when we die

Her laughter is bright as it hits him through the mental bond but it does little to help him relax further. Instead, he has to focus, putting all of his attention into fighting the instincts of his shift into his own personal, humanesque type – when he realizes something very important.

He also has a snake shift. What’s he doing as a bird right now anyway? So bird becomes reptile as he molds and changes, shifting into the black snake draped along the very same branch the vibrant green snake resides on, to which he flicks his tongue at her. So I take it we slither, then walk, back to the boat you sailed in on? If he could raise a brow in this shift, he would. But he can’t, so all he can do is offer some amusement down the bond and a few blinks.

But fine if I have to buy something from your boat, I can do that. It’ll save him the trouble of finding a space without tar to shift in so he can get the fuck out of here.

SUNJATA

are you telling this story or am I?

Fiadh, perhaps wisely, slithers back a bit as the stranger shifts as well, looping around the branches as if expecting him to choose a snake-eater or something stupid like that. Yeah, pretty much! she lies says, already weaving back in the direction she'd come so she can slither over the spiderweb of branches and through the trees. Tongue flicking out to taste the air as she goes, a pulse of pride vibrates through their bond.

Good. You'll not be disappointed, she informs him. I'm Fiadh, by the way. I sail through the Stonesong in the Greatwood, mostly. The Fae got a lot of shit worth sellin', you know?

Fiadh

may we dance until it rains, may we drink to hide our shame. we're all pretty when we die

He winds himself along the branch as she starts to move, weaving in the direction that she’d come that he follows quickly on her tail so that he doesn’t get lost – forked tongue poking out as he, too, continues to scent the air and follow her so that he doesn’t get lost. The pride that vibrates is something he doesn’t expect though, and some amount of humor slips down the bond from his side to hers, wondering internally if she’d ever sold anything off of it or if his acceptance so far has been a first attempt.

The Fae do have interesting shit. I personally haven’t been in the Greatwood much. He pauses as if he’s unsure whether he should give her his name, but at the end of the day he also has a variety of shifts to get out of this mess (he just hadn’t wanted to use them immediately). I’m Sunjata. Pleasure to meet you, Fiadh.

SUNJATA

are you telling this story or am I?

Oi, it ain't funny! Fiadh informs Sunjata haughtily as she senses his humour, hissing at him for good measure. You ain't seen nothin' until you seen my wares, snake-boi. And whether or not those wares are good, the same will still be true. He really won't have seen anything like it.

As he finally gives his name, Fiadh is already coiling down the trunk of a tree towards what she hopes is more solid ground. When she finally reaches it, vibrant green scales become plush red fur, the girl exchanging her snakeskin for a fox's paws. Damn, the Flood? she echoes, sniffing at the ground and picking up her scent before padding off in the direction she'd come.

You ain't gonna zap me with some Frey powers, are you?

Fiadh

hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out?
I'm gonna change you like a remix, then i'll raise you like a phoenix

It’s a little funny. He remarks mentally, still just as playful and amused, but he does quiet down when she mentions that he hasn’t seen anything until he’s seen her wares – unsure internally if she’s trying to impress him or if it’s a threat. Regardless, the cobra follows the boomslang down until she shifts into a fox – one that’d be somewhat familiar if he hung out with Ianto a while – but he hasn’t, and instead he shifts into a shift that’s far more suited to matching her speed.

You guessed it, the shepherd.

Her echo of his moniker has his tongue lolling out of his mouth, another amused look crossing his face as his dark ears perk. In the flesh. He jests back, taking off on his own four paws to allow her to lead yet still remain just as close. Now why would I do that? Besides, all he’s got is water right now, there’s little else he could do unless he was in his human shift. Which he isn’t. So as far as she should be concerned, she’s certainly safe from whatever Frey tricks she thinks he might have.

wearing our vintage misery, no, i think it looked a little better on me

SUNJATA

are you telling this story or am I?

Fiadh snorts at Sunjata for good measure, as if to tell him exactly how funny she finds it, before her nose is to the ground again and she hops over a mossy covered log to start loping away through the swamp. In the fur, y'mean? she quips, glancing over her shoulder at the black shepherd with the lolling tongue. So that's a parrot, a snake, a dog... what else you got? I'll show you mine if you show me yours. And that would be flirtatious if Fiadh batted even close to Sunjata's team. Then again, Frey demigod, so who knows?

I dunno, I just assumed you might wanna zap me on account of bein' who you are. Some demigods are pretty murdery, y'know. The most murdery of all is actually someone she considers her uncle. Now wouldn't that be funny, Sunjata?

Fiadh

hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out?
I'm gonna change you like a remix, then i'll raise you like a phoenix

Another mental wave of amusement shifts toward her, one that’s almost a sigh as much as it feels like a laugh. But when she starts to list out his shifts the canine trots alongside the fox, ears tilting like satellites in her direction. Do you want the pretty shifts or the useful shifts? He hums back, pressing it open for her to decide which she’d rather see as they start to drift further away from the tar.

As for being a murdery demigod, the German shepherd shakes his head, continuing along beside her. Luckily for you, murder is my least favorite thing to do. So consider yourself safe from this demigod. He was working on a safe haven after all, the opposite of someone who enjoyed the thrill of murder.

wearing our vintage misery, no, i think it looked a little better on me

SUNJATA

are you telling this story or am I?

Do I gotta choose? My favourite shift is pretty and useful, Fiadh boasts, chirping at the canine as he lopes up beside her. The footing is more even here and it makes it easier to hop over logs or scramble through the undergrowth, and she's definitely caught the scent of herself, so they should find their way back to the Stonesong(ish) in no time at all. How 'bout you show me your favourite one? Favourite shift, that is.

Gazing over her shoulder at him with golden eyes primed for mischief, the vixen snorts and shakes out her fur. Well ain't I lucky? Wouldn't wanna have to bribe you to get you not to murder me. Because that's just a waste of good stock. Her ears prick up at the sound of running water, faint but persistent, and she breaks out into a trot to get to the riverbanks quicker.

Fiadh

fire in the ground between my teeth, we're dancing on the poison in their graves
at the end of the night, we'd all seen better days

Fair. Sunjata rumbles mentally, listening to the boast and finding the amusement within it palpable in the air between them. As for showing her his favorite? He debates for a bit longer before deciding just which one he wants to pull out. My favorite pretty and useful one, is this one. He offers, trotting up a bit ahead of her to shift yet again – replacing paws for hooves, sharp teeth for blunt edges, and before long he’s trotting alongside the fox in his Pegasus shift, tucking his wings into his sides.

She gets ahead of him, though, as the trees begin to start filling in thicker. No bribes necessary. He assures her, dipping his long curved neck as if to prove the point as he scans ahead of her to hear the running water, picking up his own speed to not lose her and keep her in sight.

i know you tried, i know you're cursed, i know your best was still your worst

SUNJATA