12821/A Chance Encounter in the Woods

A Chance Encounter in the Woods
Date of Scene:	10 March 2021
Location:	Greymalkin Lane
Synopsis:	Shannon happens across an injured Vitali who happens to be in snow leopard form at the time. Healing is given and received.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Nightingale

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's fairly early in the morning. Colours streak the eastern sky, a visual announcement of the dawning of the day. The rest of the sky is grey, the darkness chased away by the coming of the day. The camp that Vitali had set up within the woods is gone, vanished without a trace. There's a fresh layer of snow upon it, to further erase any sign of it having existed. Perhaps he moved the camp deeper in the woods. It's hard to say for certain. There's a burbling stream deeper in the woods, so perhaps he might have moved there in order to have fresh drinking water available more readily. Above the trees, Soraya soars, winging her way easily along and drifting more than she beats her wings. She hunts, just as her master bid her to do.

Nightingale has posed:
     Fairly early in the morning means a morning run for Shannon. It was cold, clear, and an absolutely stunning morning for just such a thing. She's bundled up a little against the cold, but not so heavily that it hinders her exercise. Her route takes her by the spot where Vitali had camped, and she finds the campsite gone, as if it had never been. A soft sigh escapes her as she studies the sight, the young woman shaking her head. It was starting to look like she and Kurt may not have much to report back to Mr. Summers, but at the same time, she'd come to enjoy the Russian's company. Where could he have possibly gone? Was he alright?

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
In the sky above, Soraya spies Shannon has the young woman happens upon the ghost of the old camp. She easily glides around in a circle, and she gives a screech of sound before winging her way amongst the trees and towards one of those at the edge of the old camp. She lands on a low branch, then neatly flips her wings to her back, the movement soft and familiar. Soraya clicks her beak, then gives another screech, turning her head to watch the young woman. Wherever Vitali is, he must not be far in order for Soraya to be in the area. She wouldn't be here without him, or so it could be reasoned. Soraya stares at Shannon, then turns her head to look towards the stream, giving a softer scree before clicking her beak again and looking back to Shannon.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon gives a sigh of relief, hearing that familiar creeling cry splitting the cold morning air. A smile tugs the corners of her lips upwards, and she rummages around in her little brown leather bag for something. What comes out is a piece of beef jerky, held between her fingers. Extending her left arm, she faces Soraya, glad to see her avian acquaintance once more. "Hello there," she says, softly, keeping her arm out, and otherwise holding still.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Soraya tilts her head to one side, her break partially open as she eyes the piece of jerky that Shannon has brought out. She ruffles her feathers, then easily hops from the branch to glide over to Shannon's arm, lighting there and nudging her head against the young woman's neck. She gives a soft screech, then uses her beak to tug a bit of the young woman's hair before turning to look towards the stream and click her beak. She snatches a bit of her hair, tugs on it again, then wings over to a tree in that direction to land briefly on it before winging back to Shannon's arm. She's trying to lure Shannon in that direction, to get her to come, but... she doesn't have the words to convey what she wants.

Nightingale has posed:
     When it became plain that Soraya was trying to lead her somewhere, Shannon put the beef jerky back in her little brown pouch, lowering her arm. The ruffling amongst her hair makes her smile. "Okay, I get it. Lead the way then, little friend. What are you trying to show me?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The eagle bobs her head in what could be coincidence or more likely in what's a nod of her head. She clicks her beak twice in quick succession, then wings over to a tree to perch on a low branch, looking expectantly in Shannon's direction. If Shannon heads towards her, she'll wing to a tree further along and repeat the pattern. There are some footsteps in the snow here and there, once Shannon gets further from that original camp of Vitali's. And once she gets closer to the stream, the footsteps have petered out and there are... paw prints of a fairly large size -- larger than a cougar's paw print would be. And there is the crimson of blood, to mark the snow, to stand stark against the whiteness of it. Soraya wings to a low hanging branch of a tree, perching there and ruffling her feathers and clicking her beak. It takes a few moments, which might be long enough to cause a person to wonder just what's going on, but there's a rustle of the underbrush before a snow leopard of over two feet in height at the shoulder seems to materialize out from amongst them. The large cat is limping, favouring one of his back paws which is dribbling blood to the snow.

Nightingale has posed:
     Two things raced through Shannon's mind at that moment. One, what the hell was a snow leopard doing in upstate New York, out in the wild. Two, why wasn't Soraya freaking out? That alone made her wonder what was going on. Was there some measure of familiarity between the leopard and the eagle? Tense and ready, she's instinctively dropped into a fighting stance, ready to dodge, duck, and if need be, leap into the air and get away. An injured wild creature was not something to fool around with.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Both of those thoughts are assuredly valid ones. Upstate New York is definitely not a part of the snow leopard's typical range! Soraya, for her part, seems settled quite comfortably on that low branch of the tree. She looks from the snow leopard, to Shannon, and back and forth, and she clicks her beak in what could be interpreted as a scolding sound. The snow leopard chuffs a breath out through his nose, and he limps just enough out of the underbrush to be clear of it. And of all of the things that he could do, the thing he does is likely the least expected -- he settles on his rump and then lays down, his injured paw on the side that's facing up. His ears are perked towards Shannon, watching her with dark brown eyes. Not the typical colour for a snow leopard's eyes to be, it might be noted. Soraya clicks her beak and ruffles her feathers, tilting her head to stare at the snow leopard. And the snow leopard exhales a breath and gives a slight bob of his head. There's a strange thing -- on top of the already strange things -- that happens next. There's a soft wash of light that passes over the snow leopard, mostly green but with other streaks of colour as well, with an appearance much like the aurora borealis. And when the light has faded and gone, it's no longer the snow leopard that rests upon the snow but is instead Vitali himself, dressed but bare-footed, one of them as bloody as what the feline's paw had been.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Vitali... the snow leopard, it was you? Wait... never mind that..." Shannon frowns, sinking to her knees in the snow, reaching out to brush the flakes of white away from Vitali's foot. "How did you get hurt?" she finally asks, her brows furrowed with concern. She wasn't quite sure she had enough gauze pads in her little brown bag to cover this one!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a slight shift of his position that comes before Vitali pushes himself up into a sitting position. He doesn't move his injured foot very much, though he does let her lay claim to it, a quiet hiss of breath slipping from him when her fingers brush somewhat near the wound in brushing away the snow. He leans on one of his hands, and lifts his other to push some of his long hair from his face. There's a small nod from him, after the first of her words, and a hint of a smile that finds the corners of his lips. "Da, is same," he says quite softly. He was the snow leopard and the snow leopard was him. Lifting his free hand, he gestures towards the stream. "Was fishing. Try for catch breakfast," he says softly, his brow furrowing a touch before he gives a small shake of his head. "Make jump for fish. Not land right. Slip, cut on rock. Make big splash. Was bad idea, maybe," Vitali explains, giving his head another little shake. Soraya tilts her head to eye him, then ruffles her feathers and gives a sharp click of her beak. Though he glances towards the eagle, he doesn't say anything further.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Your healing, it works with water, yes?" Shannon frowns to herself. Even if she cleaned and packed this cut with what supplies she had on hand, the chances of infection were high, out here in the wild. The options were not good. It was evident his healing did not work on himself, or this wouldn't even be happening.

     That left one option, and it was not a fun one.

     Closing her eyes, she rests both her hands on his foot, and begins to draw his injury into herself. What he is likely to feel is a gentle warmth, a pleasant tingling as flesh knits itself back together, and the bleeding ceases. Pain fades, and ease of movement returns as her gift does what it does.

     But the look on her face tells all....

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Da, healing work with water in body. For others, only," Vitali says softly, his brow furrowing. He knows and understands the risks for the wound to become infected. "Healing not work on self. Not work on Soraya. Always so. Always same with all who have healing gift," he explains, a bit of a frown finding his features. He confirms her fears with his words -- he can't use his healing on himself. And worse, he can't use it on Soraya, if she were to become injured.

When her hands move so that both of them rest upon his foot, he tilts his head a touch to one side. There's a glance given to her satchel, and then he looks back to her. As he feels the warmth start to seep into his foot, into the wound, and the flesh to knit back together, his eyes widen slightly. "Net, net ... pozhaluysta, ne nado ... ya snesu, eto zazhivet," he whispers, imploringly. He knows how much the wound hurts, the throbbing pain and ache of it, and he can see it in her face as she takes it upon herself. He shifts his position, no longer leaning on his hand, leaning towards her as he lifts his right hand to brush his fingers over her cheek in a soft touch, if she allows. "Shannon, pozhaluysta... let me heal you?" he asks softly, a gentle note to his voice, concern there as well.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon is not one to protest when Vitali offers to ply his art upon her foot, now definitely feeling it. When she begins to work her boot off of her left foot, a few tears do run down her face, to grace Vitali's hand with what he needs to do his work. "Da," she finally replies, gasping as she finally pulls the boot free of her foot. The bottom of her sock is a nasty crimson red, soaked with her blood.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Softly, gently, Vitali lightly brushes her tears from her cheek with a soft touch of his fingers. His dark gaze meets hers for a brief moment, and then he gives a small nod to her when she accepts his healing. He moves carefully then, his brow furrowing at the sight of the blood soaking her soak already, and he reaches his hands out to gently take hold of her foot. He concentrates, and there's a murmur of syllables from him as he lightly brushes his fingers over her sock to gently remove it. Then his fingers pass feather lightly over the bottom of her foot. There's the warmth of increased blood flow, a thing that he controls with his magic, and the feeling of the flesh knitting back together. It takes a few moments before it's done, and then he gives another faint murmur of sound and there's a gentle coolness of water that flows over her foot (and his hands) to wash away the blood. Interestingly, when the water fades away, her foot is left dry. Softly, he brushes his fingers over the bottom of her healed foot, and then he lifts his gaze to her face. "Better now, da," he says softly, a small smile touching the corners of his lips.

Nightingale has posed:
     It wasn't so often these days that Shannon was on the receiving end of a healing. So when the occasion presented itself, there was, beyond the pain, a certain level of interest in another healer's work--and a renewed respect for those with the gift. As the pain ceases, and flesh knits itself back together, breath quickened by hurt slows down to normal, and tears cease to flow. What comes from her is a sigh of relief, lines of distress on her face smoothed away by a healer's gift. "Da. Spasibo." Slowly, a smile begins to spread across her face, the young woman lifting her chin just a notch towards Vitali. "I think next time, maybe building a trap for fish in the stream is better, da?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's not such an unusual thing for Vitali to be healed. It's a gift that runs in his family and that his twin brother also has. He reaches to her sock, then gives a soft murmur in order to summon water to flush the blood from her sock and leave it dry. Then he getly pulls it back onto her foot before giving it a soft pat. He scoots a bit closer to her, then lifts a hand to lightly brush away the last of her tears, his touch soft. "Pozhaluysta, Shannon... always. Will always heal you, if can," he says softly, giving a small nod to her. There's a brief glance towards the stream, and the he looks back to her before quirking a smile and giving a soft chuckle before he nods. "Da, trap better. Will make later, da," he says softly. He lifts a hand to catch a few stray locks of his hair, sweeping them back to tuck them behind one of his ears. Then his fingers fall to the beaded necklace, one of the beads being fingered for a moment longer before he lowers his hand back to his lap. "Did not mean to startle you, earlier," he says softly.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon chuckles softly, watching with some measure of fascination as the blood is flushed from her sock--and likely, whatever made it to the inside of her boot as well. "Now that has got to be the most handy way to take care of laundry I've seen," she quips, a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. "No wonder you can stay warm and dry in this sort of weather." She holds still as the last of her tears are dried away, quirking a smile. "It's alright. I had a feeling it was either you or another animal companion I hadn't met yet, when Soraya did not appear frightened."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The boot is treated similarly to her sock, the blood washed out of it and the interior left dry. Then he slips it back onto her foot, to keep her foot warm. There's a smile that comes to the corners of his lips, and he gives a nod to her. "Very handy, da. Blood has much water. Water pull blood out," he says softly, looking to her. He's quite a moment, considering her words and thinking. "Easier to be dry when can control water. Can control ice," he says softly, giving a nod to her. He watches her, then lifts a hand to lightly brush a bit of her hair from her face before lightly brushing his knuckles along her jaw, if she allows. "Have only one animal companion," he says softly, lifting a hand to gesture towards Soraya. "Soraya know. Mind is same, self is same. Have bond, have connection," he explains, giving a small nod to her. "Was best form for hunt, for catch fish. White bear too big," he adds.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon's smile is light, the young woman tilting her head slightly as she listens to Vitali. It seemed she had the right questions in mind, when the snow leopard appeared. Of course, Soraya would have had to know. It all made sense. But the assertion of the snow leopard being the best form for fishing has her laughing, and shaking her head. "Nyet. I think the form that can build a trap for fish is the best one. Maybe that form wouldn't get hurt jumping in the water after a fish... wait, wha....?" One finely arched golden brow lofts, her eyes going wide. "Did you just say... a white bear? A -polar- bear?!"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a quirk of one of his eyebrnows at her arguement for the best form for fishing, and then he gives a soft chuckle. "Is best when not have trap or line and pole for catch fish," he says in a light tone. "Not able for bring all things from home. Limited space," he adds, giving a small nod to her. "Was fault of rock for being in way," he comments, winking at her and quirking a grin. He's feeling better than he was when his foot was hurt. He tilts his head to one side at her surprise, and he gives a nod. "Da. White bear. Mmm, is very large," he says, giving a small nod to her. He isn't entirely sure about the name she's given it. Though he doesn't realize that he's doing it, he lifts one of his hands to bring his fingers to the beads, touching a different one now than what he had been earlier when speaking of the snnow leopard being him.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon lets out a low, surprised whistle, shaking her head and smiling. "A polar bear. If I hadn't seen you shift from a snow leopard, I might not have believed it possible. What name do you give it?" she asks, out of sheer curiosity. "Oh, and that poor innocent rock wouldn't have been in the way, if you hadn't tried to leap into the water after the fish!" She's trying very hard to not laugh, but it proves a losing battle, ending with her in fits of giggles.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Can show, if wish see," Vitali offers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he lowers his hands to his lap for a moment. A stray bit of breeze pushes a lock of his dark hair to his face, and he lifts his hands, gathering his hair to the nape of his neck and then drawing it forward over his left shoulder. "Is called polyarnyy medved', in Russian. Polar bear, as you say," he offers willingly, giving a small nod, a smile returning to his features with some measure of ease. He grins, then gives a light laugh as he nods in agreement to her words. "Is true, da. Was good idea, in moment. Bad idea, after. Was big fish, would make good meal," he says.

Nightingale has posed:
     "The fish that gets away is always a big one." Shannon nods sagely, but the quirky smile does not leave her face. Indeed, it was a universal truth, shared amongst fishermen throughout the ages. It was a truth often seasoned with a healthy dose of salt--and seasoned with a sprinkling of 'conversational' variants of whatever the local language happened to be.

     Both eyebrows quirk upwards, and Shannon frowns a bit. "That must surely take a lot of energy to shift forms," she finally says, after several moments. "And you just used a good amount not only transforming into a snow leopard and back again, but healing me, and getting rid of the blood in my boot."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
'Conversational' variants of language had likely been uttered both in losing the fish and in cutting open his foot. Vitali grins at her words, and then he gives a nod. "Da, is true. Escaped fish always big. Is rule," he comments, his dark eyes showing a sparkle of amusement to them. The one that got away is a universal enough tale that he's not only told it before but been told it before by other fisherman. It's a tale often told when there are alcoholic beverages to be had and shared around a fire. At least, in his experience. Vitali tilts his head a bit to one side at her words, and then he gives a nod. "Da, take energy," he affirms, pausing a moment to think before adding, "Energy already spent, sort of. Is stored." Lifting his right hand, he lightly touches the beads that are on the necklace that he wears, tapping one of them before lowering his hand. "Energy is here. Spell is here. Change not use energy from me. Change back use energy from me," he says softly, trying to explain. He considers a moment, then gives her a warm smile. "Maybe better for show next time. Have used energy, not eaten," he adds in a thoughtful tone. It's not a good combination sometimes.

Nightingale has posed:
     "It was tempting to see the polar bear," Shannon admits, smiling. "But I don't want to see you ill for using too much energy. I have a little jerky I brought for Soraya, but what about you? Do you have something you can eat, or is hunting necessary?"

     The beads do indeed catch her eye, and she tilts her head, peering at them. "Those are beautiful. Did you make those?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Will show, next time. Da?" Vitali suggests, a warm smile coming to his features. He tilts his head slightly to one side, and then he gives a small shake of his head. "Not usually make ill. Make sleep much. Sometimes make be like Zhao was," he says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit. He tilts his head slightly to one side, and then he gives a small nod. "Da, have some travel food. Hard bread, dry meat. From home," he says, a bit of a smile coming to his features. Which means that the food is a bit on the older side of things, given the length of the trip he took to get here. A bit of colour comes to his cheeks at her comment about the beads, and he gives a small nod. "Da. Make them, long ago. From bone. Bead hold spell, in markings, in blood," he says softly.