13601/An Avian's Auspicious Timing

An Avian's Auspicious Timing
Date of Scene:	07 July 2021
Location:	Liberty Island, Manhattan
Synopsis:	Liansong happens along at an opportune moment after Vitali has a close encounter with a boat at night.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Liansong "Song" Qing

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The island of the statue is only accessible from the ferry cruises that come to it. It is well past the time when those finish for the day, and well before the time when they begin the next morning. It is late at night, around midnight, and the sky is dark save for the wee sliver of a moon that hangs within it and the silvery pinpricks of starlight. It is a beautiful night to be out. The temperature has cooled from the heat of the day, hovering in the mid- to upper sixties, and there's a bit of a breeze stirring across the water around the island.

Killer whales are sometimes seen in the water near to New York City. And so the fact that there is one is not particularly unusual. This particular orca does, however, happen to be larger than what would be considered normal. This one tends to be here every few weeks or so. Perhaps he comes for the fish, or perhaps he comes for something else. He is not entirely what he seems to be, for he is possessed of a human intelligence within the sleek body of the predator he is now. The water, cool and deep and dark, reminds him somewhat of his far-off home. Rising up from where he had been lurking in the dark depths of the water, he gives powerful strokes of his tail through the water to propel the bulk of his form to the surface and beyond it. His entire body clears the surface of the water easily, rotating and then crashing down into the water to send a splashwave out in all directions. Even with such a large form, Vitali finds a certain freedom to it, an exhilaration that has never worn off over the years of being able to wear it as his own.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
There are days that Liansong just wants to fly. Or, as the case may be, as it is now, some nights. Given how cool it is, if it wasn't for the insulating effect of his feathers, Liansong would be cold. Then again, he's from a very hot part of the world, one that has a mess of tropical places, and even desert places. Of course, it also has snow in the high places. But he's from Sydney. It almost never snows there.

It's not often that Liansong has seen killer whales in the wild. He's a city bird. But he has seen them in the wildlife parks and such around Australia. Flying high overhead, with his vision at night almost better than it is during the daylight hours, Liansong has no trouble at all seeing the orca in the waters far below him. He rides a thermal, gliding in place, his owl feathers silent in the night.

If there were any light shining on him, he'd be as silvery as the moon and stars overhead. But there isn't, and he's not, and so he's just one shadow amongst many. Seeing the orca surge to the surface, breach the water, and then splash back down in what is obvious enjoyment brings a contented grinding from his beak. So far overhead is he that the sound does not carry to the land or the surface of the sea. Liansong continues flying. Gliding through the chill night air.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's a feeling that Vitali would be able to relate to. There are times when he just wants to be anything besides the human form that he was born with. Luckily for him, his abilities allow him an escape from it. The depths of the water would be too cold for him were it not for the thick layer of insulation that the killer whale has. Even being as used to the cold as he happens to be, given where he's from. Summer temperatures don't get anywhere near as high in his home as what they do here, and there isn't the humidity.

Vitali is used to other wildlife being around in his various forays whether they happen in the day or during the night. Sometimes they earn his attention, and sometimes not. For tonight? For tonight, he revels in the brief feeling of being held by nothing before falling into the surface of the water to be surrounded by it once more. His tail skims the top of the water, sending a skittering splash, and he sinks about half a dozen feet or so beneath the water. He's comfortable in the water, as comfortable within it as what he is on land in other forms. He rolls in the water, then makes a half an attempt at snatching a fish but misses, then sinks a lower, deeper into the water. A moment later, a soft shimmer of marbled green light washes from beak to tail of him, and where the orca was, it is no longer. Instead, there is a human. Nothing more than just a man. He's fully dressed even though he's in the water, for such is the nature of his magic. He wears a pair of black steel-toed boots, blue jeans, and a long-sleeved dark blue turtleneck. The lengths of his dark hair float almost cloud like in the water around him as he eases his way towards the surface of the water.

At this hour of night, the boats that cut across the surface of the water should have proper illumination on them to make them visible. Alas, not all of the crafts are well maintained. There happens to be more than one of them that are out on the water with either some or all of their lights not illuminated. If Vitali hears any of the boats on the water, from beneath the surface and with his ears full of water, there is no sign of his awareness. He continues to swim towards the surface of the water. Where the orca wouldn't need to breathe anywhere near this soon, this form does. There's a boat that moves quite quickly over the water, and the collision of it and the swimmer seems almost a thing that is destined to happen. He's able to get close to the surface, but not close enough to catch a fresh breath. There's an almost sickening sort of watery thud as the hull of the boat makes impact and a whining whirr a second or two later. The boat continues on, the pilot of it seeming entirely unaware as he takes a swig from a can of beer. Bubbles burble to the surface, and the unconscious swimmer starts to sink in the water.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong doesn't really have that problem. He's not 'human' in the strictest sense of the term. His /is/ a human, but a DNA altered human. But, he still has the escape of flight, so there is that. And he revels in it, almost every time he's in the air. Liansong's keen eyesight catches that strange color and light within the water. His head turns, and glacial blue eyes blink. Now that's interesting.

The avian turns in the air, angling into a large, loose circle. He tilts his wings ever so slightly so that the loose circle turns instead to a loose downward spiral. As he comes about, Liansong keeps those glacial blue eyes upon the human in the water. He spies the boat coming in on a collision course, but he's too far away to shout a warning, too far away to get there in time.

Liansong angles his wings more, tips down at a steeper descent. As the boat hits the human, he narrows the spiral into something more akin to a the swooping dive an actual owl would do. He aims at the bubbles. Perhaps ten feet above the water, Liansong flares his wings out to slow his descent. Slow, but not too much. Immediately after, he folds his wings tight to his back and brings his arms forward, like a human diving into water.

And into the water he goes, at a resepectable rate of speed. The nictating membranes owls are noted for come over his eyes before he opens them. He arrows toward the sinking human, now using his feet to kick toward the man. His tail has been narrowed to its thinnest possible width, to cut drag in the water, and all of his feathers are slicked tightly to his body.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It is an odd colour, a bit strange of a strange concurrence between the colour and light. And yet, for those who are familiar with the aurora borealis that happens in the areas further to the north, it is reminiscent of that very phenomenon. Swirling shades of green, from pale to dark, to play through the light, almost seeming as though one colour chases another. Not strictly human, and yet... only a stone's throw away from being just that.

Though Vitali tried to fight against the darkness that encroached upon his consciousness, he couldn't manage to keep free of its grasp. He could use none of his magic, not here beneath the water, not without the words that he needed to make it work. And with the darkness swallowing up his mind, his body in the water went limp. No struggle, no fight, no trying to swim or to reach the surface. He's caught in the black nothing of unconsciousness. The water is breathed in, his body forcing the reflex. His body needs the air, but there's none here beneath the surface of the water. Bubbles slip past his lips to float up to the surface, releasing their precious air.

It's a slow thing, the sinking of his body, a sort of drifting thing. Pushed, pulled, tugged at by the water's will. Each second that ticks by takes him closer to drowning. Closer to death. But each second that ticks by brings a rescuer closer to him, one of his hands coming just into reach.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong pays no mind to anything but keeping is feathers tight to his body, his wings tucked in as close as he can get them, and his arms outstretched. Plus his feet doing their kicking thing. As one of those hands comes into reach, Liansong latches onto it. His long, slendar fingers curl around, talontips catching into the fabric of the long sleeved shirt the man wears. Careful, for the last thing he wants is to pierce flesh.

The moment his hand is set and curled, he turns and kicks for the surface. His wings spread, and he uses them to scoop water much as he would air, all helping to propell himself, and the man he tows, toward the surface. And the beach not that far away. Once to the surface, Liansong's snorts out what little air remains in his lungs to clear his nares. His beak gapes as he inhales a deep breath immediately after. He doesn't stop moving, however. His wings keep up their flapping, propelling him toward the beach. He pulls the man's head above the surface of the water. Just in case.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There is warmth within that hand that Liansong captures. Warmth, and life. How long will both things remain? Each breath his body forces his lungs to take for need of air is filled with water, and each breath takes him closer to drowning. And then, he stops breathing. A whisper closer to death. There is no fight, no fuss, no struggling against the hold that is taken upon his hand. On some level of consciousness, his mind is aware of the hold that those slender fingers have taken upon him.

Vitali remains caught within the darkness of unconsciousness, and his body is like so much dead weight to drag through the water. There is nary a sound that comes from him when his head is drawn above the surface of the water, though there is some water that trickles past his lips. Perhaps simply water that had been in his mouth, or perhaps more than that, it's hard to say. He doesn't take a breath, and his skin has turned paler than normal, a touch grey, from the lack of oxygen.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
It's a short trip to the shore, no more than twenty or thirty seconds. Liansong doesn't hesitate once he gets out of the water with the man. He lays him on the beach on his back and starts CPR. This is a little complicated when there's a beak involved, but Liansong is more than familiar with how that works and uses his hands to make sure the air goes into the man's mouth.

Chest compressions alternated with breathing in the correct order and number of things. He doesn't stop, not until the man shows signs he's coming out of it. Or is too far gone to save. It might take Liansong awhile to get to the point where he's decided the man is beyond saving. He's a doctor, with more than one degree. It's not in his nature to give up.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There isn't any movement from the man as he's laid on his back on the sand of the beach. It is perhaps a bit of an eerie sort of thing that his dark eyes are open and stare off towards nothing, focused upon nothing. Seeing nothing. Water trickles softly from his clothes, across his skin, and to the sand.

It takes a short amount of time, perhaps a minute or so, before there's a reaction to what's being done. It's a period of time that might well seem to be longer than what it truly is because of the cycles of CPR that are being done. There's a quiet splutter, at first, a little bit of a sound. Then Vitali gives a little bit of a gurgly cough, water coming up and out of his mouth, and then he coughs a bit more. His eyelids flicker, and after a second or two, he manages to focus on his rescuer. An... owl spirit...? Vitali doesn't try to move very much, but he is breathing again, brought back from the shadow of death.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong isn't giving up. It's not the least bit in his nature. And finally, finally, his efforts bring a reward. It had seemed like it took far longer than one minute, but Liansong knows better. He knows it hadn't been as long as it seemed. When the man reacts, with that splutter and sound, Liansong leans back a little, and then rolls the man to his side and pats his back.

"Breathe, mate. Just breathe. You're alright. That bloody boat came outta nowhere, didn't it!? I saw the whole thing. You're lucky I was flyin' by or you'd be a goner!" Liansong's typical bubbly, bouncy nature certainly is showing through in the moment. It really is. He owl-grins with his beak agape as he helps the man lay on his back again.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Giving up is generally not a thing that Vitali does either. It's never been a part of his nature. With the spark of life returned to him, he seeks to keep it, and to not fall back into the darkness of unconsciousness again. He doesn't struggle at all against being rolled to his side, and he ends up coughing a fair bit, bringing up more water from his lungs. He is, at least, no longer that unhealthy grey shade of moments ago, though he is still pale.

There's a faint nod at the instruction to breathe, and the coughing eases to less frequent, which allows him to breathe easier. "Ya... ne privyk k takim lodkam," Vitali says quite quietly, his voice a bit hoarse from all of the coughing he's done. He eases back to his back with the avian's help, resting, his dark gaze only now seeming to take in the form and figure of his rescuer. Though English had been spoken to him, it would seem that something perhaps didn't parse properly through his brain for him to respond in like kind. "Spasibo, Dukh Sovy. YA ne ozhidal takogo. YA ochen' schastliv," he adds in a tone that seems reverent, still just as quiet as moments ago, and there's a faint nod from him. He seems to have an understanding of how close to death he was. But then, he has an additional way of knowing -- and there's the shriek of an eagle from above, where Soraya easily glides. She hadn't been near enough to warn him of the boat, as she'd been hunting for herself.

Translation: I... am not used to boats like that. // Thank you, Owl Spirit. I did not expect one of your kind. I am very lucky.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
It's a good thing there's no argument or fighting against what Liansong has done. The man has no choice in the matter. At present, Liansong is much stronger than he is. He tilts his head at the words spoken, his feathers fluffing out ever so slightly. Which results in nothing more than him looking rediculous for the soaking wet feathers. There's truly nothing so pathetic as a soaking wet bird.

The words bring nothing but confusion to Liansong. Not that it really shows, though his ear tufts have gone up. He does look a bit perplexed. It shows in the eyes. "Spasibo I understand to mean 'thank you'. But the rest? I'm unfamiliar with... is that Russian?"

The call of the eagle above has Liansong reacting instinctively. His wings spread out and mantle over the prone man, and his feathers around his face and neck fluff out more. It's a pattern of fluffage that the Russian would recognize as being protective or defensive. Coupled with the mantled wings.... Liansong looks skyward, his ear tufts flattening back.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There is no reason for Vitali to fuss. The 'owl spirit' had chosen to save his life when it didn't have to, and that seems to indicate that it has his well being in mind. And it helps that he knows well enough how important it is to get the water out of the lungs of a perso who has nearly drowned. As Vitali's dark gaze takes in the soaked feathers of the 'owl spirit', he can't help but to wonder just why it hasn't dried itself off yet. The 'owl spirit' is quite thoroughly wet, just as he is himself.

One of his eyebrows raise just a touch at the confusion over his words. That seems an odd thing, to him -- if it is, as he believes, an owl spirit, then it should understand him. "Da, spasibo is thank you," Vitali agrees quietly, his voice accented with his native Russian, and he gives a small nod. "Is Russian, da," he adds, a bit of a smile coming to the corners of his lips. "Did say, am not used to boats, like that. Said, as well, thank you, for saving life. Am lucky, very," Vitali says quietly, doing his best at giving a translation. "English broken, sorry. Did call as 'Owl Spirit'," he adds, his gaze holding upon the avian.

The behaviour that happens after Soraya's call is unexpected, and one of his eyebrows quirks up slightly. He recognizes the behaviour, he's seen it often in Soraya. He lifts his left hand, and if he's permitted, his fingers will come very lightly to rest upon the feathers on the inside of one of those wings. "Is okay. Is Soraya, friend. Not meaning harm," Vitali says, still quietly. Soraya doesn't come closer, but she does continue to glide in what appear to be easy circles some distance above them.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The owl spirit would be very put upon at being called an 'it'. Liansong is very much a male, thankyouverymuch. The problem is... Liansong is very much alive. He's very much not a spirit of any sort to be able to understand the Russian being spoken. He nods, but doesn't look back down. With his field of view, he can see the man on the ground despite looking up at the sky and watching for the eagle that had screamed above.

Finally, Liansong's eyes drop to the man again. "Your English is better than some of the people I've met who claim its their native language," he says. "It might not be the best, but I wouldn't consider it broken, mate." He blinks, glacial blue eyes confused and rather owlish. "I'm... not an owl spirit..? I'm a human man, I just look a lot like an owl," says Liansong, his beak gaping in an owlish grin.

The touch to the inside of his wing is rather unexpected, and Liansong startles, ever so slightly, the wing jumping at the touch. But he doesn't pull back. He looks from the man and up to the sky again, eyes scanning for the bird, which he spits kiting the thermals above. He blows out a breath, and slowly, the wings lift away and close, folding to his back again. "Right. Friend. No harm. My apologies," he says, looking to the man again.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Is needing for being better. English. Is not easy for learning," Vitali says quietly, his brow wrinkling slightly. "Is kind for saying," he adds, giving a small nod, a bit of colour creeping faintly to his cheeks. He considers a moment as the avian denies being an owl spirit, a flicker of curiosity showing in his dark eyes. "Have not met person like you before. Not mean for offend. In home, are owl spirits... always helpful," he comments. "Look like both, human and owl."

The touch to the inner wing was quite soft -- Vitali can understand about the sensitivities of being touched there. In part from Soraya and in part from his own experiences as an eagle. Vitali shifts a bit, pushing himself up to be sitting, and he carefully draws his legs beneath him in cross-legged fashion. "Is not needing apology. Did not have way of knowing, da? Appreciate being protected," he says, a smile turning the corners of his lips, his dark gaze looking up to meet Liansong's blue eyes.

For a lingering moment, he seems to consider something. And then he lifts his right hand, extending it towards the avian. "Am Vitali Svyatoslav," he offers, remembering only then to offer his name. And he's quiet a moment afterwards before he lifts his left hand to gesture slightly towards Liansong's wings. "If spread wings, can make dry," he offers, the words sincere.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong nods about the English not being easy to learn. "I've heard that," he replies. He shakes his head. "I'm not offended. I'm not a spirit, though. I'm a mutant." There's a little bit of a difference! He nods to the observation. "I am like both, yeah. Close to half and half, really. I have owl features, and I have human." "Is needing apology," he counters. "I shouldn't have gotten defensive to start with." Ah well!

As the hand is offered, Liansong steps a little closer and clasps his hand around it. His long, slender fingers curl gently and carefully around the man's hand, very pink talons just lightly touching skin. His fingers number four, rather than the typical five. Just like a bird's. The skin is very pink. He wears sodden silk clothing that are very reminsicent of something like a kimono, but not Japanese. "I'm Liansong Qing. Pleasure ta meet ya."

He tilts his head very much owl-like to the side at the offer of being dried off. And here, he thought he'd hidden his shivers better than that! "Well... sure. I'm not gonna say no," he says. He studies the man for a long, long moment. And it seems like he might refuse the offer. But then? Then he spreads those wings, in tacit approval. This shows the full extent of the avian's wingspan. For his size, it's impressive. Liansong's wings are quite large. And despite the water, snowy white. The feather shafts are all palest pink. Clearly, he's an albino.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Not have many for practice English with, where from. Before come here. Learn now for two cycles of seasons," Vitali says softly. Two years, but that's been without what could be called a 'proper' teacher or 'proper' lessons. He tilts his head a bit to one side, the gesture one that seems nigh avian in nature, and he gives a small nod. "Da, not have same feel as spirit," he comments. A small smile comes to his features, and he gives a nod. "Not spirit, da. Spirit stay in world not long before go back. Not be solid often or long. Can... reach through, pass hand through," he says softly. He has a rather matter of fact way of talking about spirits. Then he gives a small shake of his head. "Is all forgive. Is okay. Is instinct. Protect," he adds. "Am not minding was done, da?" He was in a vulnerable position, and the shriek could have been friend or foe.

Vitali gives a small nod as the handshake is accepted and returned, and there's a smile that touches at the corners of his lips. Though he likely notices the difference in number and form of fingers, he doesn't say anything about either. To him, it's not really an oddity, it's just something that's different. "Is pleasure for meeting, Liansong," he says, a smile easily returning after the words.

He did, at least, sort of ask permission -- he offered, and he waited to see if the offer was accepted. Vitali is learning that such things are expected here where in his home it's the action itself that's expected. When the offer is accepted, his dark eyes seeming to brighten a little bit in a manner that suggests it was unexpected. Refusals are far more common than acceptance where his magic is concerned. And then Liansong spreads his wings. Vitali really does try not to stare. Though it's not so much staring as it is admiring them, his dark gaze travelling from one wingtip up and across and over to the other wingtip. To him, the wings are nothing short of beautiful and magnificent. His chin ducks slightly, and a bit of colour creeps to his cheeks. "Izvinite," he says quite quietly, a touch sheepishly. A moment later, and he focuses his concentration on the water. A bit ironic, perhaps, that he can control it and yet it nearly killed him only minutes ago. There's a faint murmur that slips past his lips, and the fingers of his left hand make a slight gesture -- a sort of circular motion with a bit of a tail or push at the end of it. His gaze seems sort of focused on some middle space betwixt them.

In the wake of that slight gesture, the water that is soaked into Liansong's feathers and his clothing starts to move. It is a slow sort of thing, a soft sort of thing. The water seems... drawn... and it's a thing that happens from the skin and gradually working out. The water from Liansong's skin glides towards the feathers, then out over the feathers, perhaps a slight lifting of the feathers occurring at the same time, gathering the rest of the water as it goes. It bleeds out of his clothes as well, all of the water seeming to head for the nearest edge. The droplets of water seem almost to shiver there for a brief moment before slipping free, drifting through the air and gathering into a swirling and ever-moving ball of water that hovers some couple of feet in front of Liansong. It's only once Liansong is dry from head to talon that Vitali applies his magic to himself, and the water joins the sphere of it already there. The Siberian turns his attention then to the ball of water, and his head tilts faintly to one side in the moment before he moves his left hand to guide it towards the body of water beyond the beach from whence it had come.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
"Two cycles of seasons. Two years? From summer to fall to winter to spring and back to summer being one cycle?" Liansong nods. "Spirits are not corporeal. Not alive, and so not solid," he agrees. He seems to be taking Vitali at face value when speaking about spirits. If he feels any skepticism, he's keeping it firmly to himself. Or it's simply that his owl features aren't easy to read in that respect.

Liansong nods a couple of times, small nods. "Right. You weren't able to protect yourself if it had been something wishing harm." Liansong's beak gapes in that owl smile again. "It is a pleasure. I'm glad you're alive." After the effort he'd put into it, of course Liansong would be glad the man had survived. What sort of demented invidual would be happy the one they tried to save died?

Liansong might not be all that surprised that something the man can control nearly killed him. If he knew. It takes concentration to have control over anything, and without being conscious, there's no way to concentrate to gain that control. He knows that from years of science.

The fascination over his wings has Liansong shifting a bit uncomfortably. He doesn't usually show them like this. But he waits, patiently, holding them out. They're quite large. Even in the dark they're impressive. How much better might they be when both dry and in the light?

Once again, Liansong shifts uncomfortably, but this time it's at the alien feel of the water slithering away. He's never had that happen before. It's always evaporated or been wicked out with the help of cloth or paper towels, depending on the situation. It's a little bit like when he's first getting wet. Only slower, and reversed. He shivers again, a full body shiver that's very visible. His wings half close with it, before Liansong forces them to open once again. "That... that feels really odd, mate," he says, his normally cheerful voice somewhat subdued with the feeling of it. Never the less, his eyes are fixed to the globe of water, fascinated.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a nod from Vitali when Liansong confirms the timeframe. "Da, yes. One cycle, summer, fall, winter, spring. Find out would need know English so start learning," he says, a smile easily coming to his features. He lifts his right hand and makes a sort of wobble of gesture with it. "Some spirit argue is alive, is not dead. Some say have life, but... is not life held to body. Is life in different way, maybe. Not having body, not solid," he says, his brow furrowing a bit for a brief moment before his expression clears.

Vitali nods again, a smile coming to lift the corners of his lips. "Am same, in that. Is duty, am shaman. Try to protect others, heal others, when needed... when perceive needed. Not always right," he says, sounding a touch amused. Sometimes he guesses right when help or protection or healing is needed, and other times not so much. Or his offer is refused. "Am glad to be alive, still. Very grateful. Owe to you debt of life. Did bring back from death," he adds, his gaze flicking briefly from Liansong and towards the eagle in the sky. Yet his attention returns readily to Liansong.

"Izvinite," he says, ducking his chin, his gaze lowering a long moment before lifting back to the avian. "Am sorry. Am not meaning for making uncomfortable. Am used to smaller wings," he comments, lifting his right hand to gesture slightly towards the sky. Towards the eagle who still circles there. "Yours are... velikolepnyy," he adds, giving a small nod. He's quite for a long moment, thinking. "English word... magnificent?" he suggests, the word said carefully, and then he gives a nod, as though to affirm his translation.

It is a strange feeling, the water trickling away on its own like it does when under Vitali's control. He's used to it, but he's lived with the ability for a lot of years. He had chosen a finer and more controlled method of removing the water since he hadn't want to harm any of Liansong's feathers in the process. Quicker isn't always better. Vitali tilts his head to one side as he notices the shiver, and he frowns a little bit. "Am sorry, am not able to give warm. Can close wings, if wish. Will help make warm," he says softly. Vitali gives a small nod, and he lifts his right hand to catch some of his hair in order to brush it back from his face. "Is strange feel, da," he says softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Did not miss anywhere, da?" he asks, one of his eyebrows quirking up a touch. He knows he didn't. He looks towards the sphere of water, then back to Liansong, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. Carefully, he guides the sphere up, away from the surface of the water and then back closer to them. The water wobbles slightly, and a small tennis ball sized amount blurbles off of the main sphere of it before it's sent to join with the rest of the water around the island. Vitali keeps just that small amount within his control, though he could easily add more to it. "Can control water. Make move, make shapes. Do for many years," he says softly, watching the smaller amount of water. He guides it closer to Liansong, and it is nothing more than his concentration that guides it, that moves it. He doesn't particularly find it fascinating that he can do it, but... he and his family have been manipulating water for generations. He brings it easily within arm's reach, and lets it hover there. Then he focuses his attention a bit more, making some of the water form a flat layer whilst the rest of it forms an orca shape that swims before coming up through the flat layer before 'splashing' back down onto it.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong considers that about spirits, and nods slowly. "I could get that. But life, as defined by science, has the capacity to grow, it metabolizes, responds to stimuli, adapts, and reproduces. I don't think something without a body has the ability to do all of that, so.. not technically life," he says. Science. It is clearly a big part of Liansong's life. "Protecting is always good. It's over protecting that's bad. Or over.. healing?" He knows people who heal fast, so that doesn't seem to be quite tripping him up. That can be defined by science as a mutation.

Liansong shakes his head. "You don't owe me anything, mate. Saving lives is part of what I do. I'm a doctor." He shakes his head, feathers all slicking back. "No they aren't. They're just wings. And they're the wrong color." He snaps the wings closed now that he's been given permission and steps back and away from Vitali.

"I... need to go now. Will you be alright?" His wings shift like they're going to spread, but he doesn't leave just yet. But something says that he's wanting to leave, like right now. Something wrong had been said, and not even Liansong's curiousity about the water is enough to keep him here in the moment. Unless Vitali says something to keep him here, at least.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Am not having very much knowing of science," Vitali admits, his brow furrowing slightly. He's never really been taught science. He understands the application of certain principles but it's from experience rather than being taught in anything that resembled a controlled sort of setting. He tilts his head faintly to one side, and then he gives a small nod. "Is not wrong. Spirits not able to do all things, as you say. Can do many things, but not all," he says in a thoughtful tone. Then he lifts one of his shoulders in a small shrug. "When do too much of any thing, can be not good. Heal, protect, eat, touch... many more things, as well. Is right amount for all things," Vitali says.

"May be part of what you do, but... is still deserving thanking. Would be spirit, if not for you being here," Vitali says, studying Liansong. He notices the slicking of the feathers, and he blinks at the reaction, having not expected it. Why would a compliment earn that? This might need a bit of careful wording. The water is easily dismissed with a thought, and it flows back to join the rest of it. "Did not mean to cause upset, Liansong. Am sorry for causing. Did not mean to make want to leave. Am not best with words, but... try to use right ones," he says softly, a gentle tone to his voice. And there's a brief pause that he takes before he speaks further. "Am not sorry for words. Did not speak untrue. Wings, you, not wrong colour," he adds. There is a sincerity in his words, a sense of believing and of truth, and that rings true in what his physical self reflects as well. White is a colour that has significant meaning to his people -- it is a sacred colour, a colour that is special. He softly clears his throat and ducks his chin a bit, looking sheepishly through his lashes towards Liansong. "Would not have made reason for seeing wings again if did not truly think so, da?" he suggests a bit quietly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. This, too, rings true. And so, he rats out his own small untruth that had been within the offer of drying Liansong off.

He doesn't want their meeting to part on a sour note, of sorts, as it seems might happened. Though there may be nothing he can do to stop it from being the case, he does try with what he says.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong hovers on the edge of taking to the air and getting away from this place. There is a nod about spirits, and about too much of anything being bad, but no words to follow them. That beak has clammed right on up. He shakes his head at the apology. "Not your fault, mate," he says softly. "My wings, my feathers, all of me are the wrong color," he insists, shaking his head again. "I was born wrong."

Liansong's blue, blue eyes are awefully wide. He shakes his head once more and backs another step away. His wings spread until they're half open and quivering with the effort to not go any further open just yet. His legs bend, ever so slightly, in preparation for launching.

Memories go through his mind, distress clear in his eyes, body language, and how his feathers are slicked as tight as can be to his body. Liansong shakes his head to clear it. "I'm sorry. I.. need to ..." He shakes his head again and the wings spread further as he prepares to launch.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Avian body language is something that Vitali is familiar with, and for good reason. Only part of that reason is from having an eagle that is bound to him. It's only with the unfavourable reaction that he receives that the Siberian realizes that he's chosen the wrong words to say. They might have seemed fine to him when he was considering what to say, but apparently... Liansong's perspective is different than his own. Vitali listens, and he gives a small shake of his head. "Will stop talking of wings, of colour. Can agree to not agree, maybe?" he suggests, one of his eyebrows quirking up slightly. "Are alive. Means was born right. If not wishing to talk more about, will leave be," he adds, giving a small nod. Any baby that's born alive and healthy, with the appropriate number of fingers and toes that it should have for what it is, is born right, in his opinion.

He lifts his left hand, rubbing a little at the back of his head and wincing a bit. There's a lump there, from where the boat had struck him. He gives a little shake of his head. "Have nothing for... to apologize for, Liansong. Fault is mine. Say wrong things. Am sorry," he says softly, sincerely, giving a small nod. He wobbles just a smidge. "Please not be leaving, Liansong. Can talk of any other things. Or can be quiet. Catch fish, cook, eat... maybe," he says softly, giving a faint nod. He feels as though he's made a mess of things, rather unintentionally, and finding a way of fixing it isn't a thing that comes easily.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong really does not want to talk about it. At all. And that much is obvious in his body language. More than obvious. He nods to agree to disagree. He can do that. That is done quite a bit in the scientific community, afterall. Especially when there are people with differing opinions on how to do this or that or the other thing.

The avian doesn't relax just yet, instead remaining tense and ready, poised to leap into flight. He shakes his head. "Nothing to apologize for," he insists. "I am not hungry, but thank you anyway." And of course Liansong's perspective is different than Vitali's. They'd grown up in vastly different places with vastly different customs. And as the only albino in his flock.... being white is bad. A birth defect.

Liansong sees that wobble, even if it was just a smidge. "Other things," he agrees. His wings relax and settle back to his sides and back where they belong. "Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea?" The medical degree he'd worked hard for is kicking in now, and he steps closer again.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Sometimes, the Siberian takes the long way around to realizing things. He's more than willing to not talk about or push at things that make Liansong uncomfortable or distressed. With the avian giving agreement to the notion that Vitali had suggested, he gives a small nod to acknowledge it. It doesn't mean that the topics are forever banned, but there is at least a truce, of sorts.

Sometimes, the road to getting to know someone else is fraught with hidden pitfalls. Vitali has, at least, managed to get out of the one that he found, and he intends to remember it. "Okay," he says softly, about the apology. "Are welcome, always. Soraya hunt for self, then come... if not mind?" he asks softly, tilting his head a touch to one side. The eagle is nearly always within close proximity to him, though now she wings out over the water to glide and hunt for fish.

'Other things' had been offered up as topics of conversation. Vitali hadn't expected his physical state to be the 'other thing' in question, though. One of his eyebrows quirks up slightly at the unexpected question. He gives a little nod, after a moment. "Da... some, little bit, for both," he says quietly. He gives the truth rather than try to brush it off as nothing, and he closes his eyes for a long moment before opening them again. "Headache, as well, from when boat hit," he adds. "Not have willow bark, here, for make tea."

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Mostly, it's hard to upset Liansong. It's only when the wrong set of words happens to be used that it upsets him. His childhood had not been what one would deem to be.. pleasant. And there's a good chance that this is one thing Liansong will be unwilling, entirely, to talk about. "I'm not cold, by the way," he says. "I mean, I am, but not that cold. It's finally getting warm enough that I'm not cold all the time. I shivered because that felt really odd."

Liansong glances to the sky where he can see the eagle mentioned. "Soraya," he repeats the word. "I don't mind. Now I know she's not a threat, of course she's welcome." He watches as the eagle glides out over the water.

Vitali's physical state /does/ qualify for the topic of 'other things', technically speaking. And Liansong can see the little signs of pain in the man. "I have a light here. Let me check your eyes, yeah?" He reaches into one of his pockets, as you never know what might be needed when out flying, and he produces a small pen light. "I have some pain stuff that should help." That might even work better than willow bark.

Liansong holds up the light so that Vitali can see it. "Keep your eyes open. I want to check your pupilary response." He flashes the light on and moves it up and into Vitali's left eye, and then down again, in rapid succession. With his own vision, he can see what response the pupils give. He does it once more, then switches to the man's right eye and repeats the process.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian quirks an eyebrow slightly, and then he gives a small nod, a smile touching at the corners of his lips. "Not cold, good. Am used to cold. Dry. Here, very different. Already is warmer than where from," he comments, his brow furrowing a bit. And yet, despite him saying that it's warmer here, he's wearing jeans and a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt which might seem a bit on the odd side of things. "Da, is odd feel. Is... mmm... calling water, maybe. Make water gather in spot," he says, giving a small nod.

Soraya, gliding over the water, dips down to the water's surface to snag a fish in her talons. The fish wriggles, and she keeps hold of it, and she turns to start to wing her way towards the island where they are. She makes a couple of soft chirping sounds, and Vitali looks in her direction for a brief moment before looking back to Liansong. "Is eagle name, Soraya. Is companion, many years," he says, giving a small nod.

There's a flicker of curiosity that comes to his dark eyes at the mention of a light, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "For why, check eyes?" he asks, watching as the light is produced. And then he gives a small nod, at the mention of 'pain stuff'. "Will be grateful if pain able to be made less," he comments, a little smile coming to the corners of his lips.

Vitali gives a small nod at the instruction, and he keeps his eyes open to allow for his pupils to be checked. One of them -- the left one -- responds entirely normally and as one would expect to the brightness of the light. The right one responds to the light as well, though the timing of it isn't as quick as the left one. It has just a bit of a delay to the response, which Liansong's keen sight would be well able to see.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong shivers slightly at the thought that it's colder than here where the man is from. "It's much warmer than here where I'm from," he says. If he didn't have a full set of feathers, Liansong would be dressed much warmer than he currently is. But for flight to be viable, feathers in certain places are a necessity! And another little shiver. "It felt like things slithering over me. Like tiny snakes, maybe."

His eyes go briefly back to the eagle, and he nods. "Righto," he says. "Soraya is a friend. I'll remember that." Not try, of note, but will remember. "Because by checking how your pupils react to the light, I can tell if it's a concussion or something more serious. If they don't react the right way, I can tell the difference between a concussion and, say, a brain bleed," he replies. He considers how the pupils react. "Mm. Pretty sure it's a concussion and nothing more severe. A brain bleed or damage to your brain would have fixed pupils. But this means no pain meds for the next four hours. And no sleeping."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian notices the shiver, and he tilts his head a little bit to one side. He quirks a bit of a smile, and then he gives a soft chuckle. "Think would maybe not like where am from, in winter. Very cold. Near District of Oymyakon. Siberia," he says. It's a place that's considered the coldest inhabited area on Earth, based on the yearly average temperatures. He's used to snow and ice and cold water to swim in. "Da. Wet snakes. Worms, maybe. Not slimy, though," he says. "Is better for doing slow, with feathers. Gentler," he adds, giving a small nod.

Vitali gives a small nod when Liansong says he'll remember, about Soraya. Within only a couple of minutes, Soraya has reached the beach and landed within a stone's throw away. She has her wings mantled over the fish and her back towards them as she starts to eat the fish that she had caught. Vitali quirks up an eyebrow at the information that's shared about the reason behind checking eyes, and he gives a small nod. "Bleed in brain bad, da. Have fixed in others, sometimes. Is... harder. Take longer time to do. Blood paths very small," Vitali says softly. He shifts slightly, letting his hands rest yet within his lap. He gives a soft sound, and then a small nod at the mention of no pain medication or sleeping. "Will manage pain. Ice maybe help. Will make ice pieces. Try to not sleep, da," Vitali says, giving a small nod. Part of that might come across as sounding a little bit crazy for someone who isn't familiar with his abilities.