Night's Omen

"Are you sure you shouldn't get your bearings first, little Falcon?" she asked, considering how his Tuuli Thea may react to his new... everything. She took a step back from him, stretching her wings out, and oh it felt so nice, like she had retrieved lost time. Time was a strange thing to feel, but it was a most precious gift, much like her magic, and Theia wasn't interested in losing either one now, especially now that there were very little who could stop her, save that strange man from before.

"Oh," she said quietly. She had suddenly remembered telling Aristide she would do anything he wanted to save Brennan. "Oh...." she said again, and sat down suddenly. What would happen, now? She needed to find out, once she could clean up.

Little Falcon.

At least Amaltheia couldn't read his thoughts, since they plummeted again just at the change in her 'nickname' for him.  She didn't want to know that he didn't really appreciate the change the way she did, that he would have preferred the familiar, what he loved, in place of this. 

It seemed to occur to him at the same time as Amaltheia's promise of a favor had that he'd actually died.  Or at least, he thought he had.  He blinked suddenly, eyes shooting back up to her, and her suggestion that he get his bearings first made so much more sense.  So did the blood, and as he looked down, the tears in the shirt he was wearing.  He only had to tug it away from his body, feeling the way the fibers stuck to his skin, to see the darker blood surrounding the shreds that remained over one shoulder, towards his...

collar bone.  He remembered that, and actually wavered some just thinking about it all.  He remembered in perfect clarity.  He hadn't been able to breathe, and so much cold had just descended upon him, even as he heard Amaltheia's voice ringing through the alley.  He'd thought he was dying and just remembering random sounds, but now he understood that she'd been there in those last seconds.  She'd been there just as much as the cold that had swept up over him, and now?  Now, that man was still dead, and in his place was some new...thing.  He wouldn't even consider himself a falcon, not yet, anyway.

"I died.  She killed me," he murmured, completely in his own thoughts even as Amaltheia sank to the ground.

She ran shaky hands through her hair. Her calm demeanor began to slowly wash over her again, something she'd missed so much previously, but now relished. Aleya was back, alive and well, and this time, there was no Empress to take her away again - or at least, she'd live like that as long as she could, serving none but herself until the day came where she would be put on the stake again and burned.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked finally, looking back up at Brennan. He didn't seem to understand how beautiful he'd become. He was a Dark Falcon, something that never would have occurred in the natural order of things. Feathers black as pitch, eyes as dark as twilight - on the island he'd have been cast out, bound or confined, depending on the level of power he held. Falcons cherished children, true, but they would never have tolerated such a... an anomaly, or not that Theia could imagine. Still, he was, to her, more beautiful than even Alia and Aeson. At the thought of her brother, even the briefest, her heart stilled some, and she looked away.

"We shouldn't stay here too long, " she warned. "Our kind has long since been thought gone, and I wager anyone who can sense magics is going to know that something has happened."

She was asking him?  He hadn't the foggiest notion where to go, considering the fact that he lived with Avalon.  Amaltheia had told him pretty clearly that she didn't think he should go back there, and that left him without anywhere to go.  Eventually, he was going to go looking for his wife, though.  He didn't want to just leave, even if it might leave her with a neater ending to the situation.  There was the chance, the slight one, that it wouldn't end.

Even if he was a fool for hoping, he had to give it a shot.

Oblivious of all that she was thinking about regarding his appearance, and simply assuming he was a complete freak on top of everything else, he just stared at her for a moment when she mentioned 'their kind'.  He couldn't help it, but he didn't like it.  He couldn't keep staring at her, though.  That'd get old fast, and despite being unhappy and pretty dumbstruck by this whole thing, he was NOT an idiot.  He would not behave as such.

"Your house?" he suggested, hating being so forward, even with Amaltheia, but it was somewhat necessary.  "Or hotel rooms.  I believe I still have my wallet."

He had to check, since he had no certainty regarding what happened between getting attacked and being revived.  He hadn't THOUGHT his wallet vanished, and it hadn't.  There was the fact that he couldn't exactly go rent a room as he was, though.  That'd be a trick.

"Okay," she said, though it wasn't clear to which suggestion she'd agreed. She brushed herself off a little, and shifted into a falcon. It was brief, because before Brennan could react, she was back on two legs again. She felt woozy, and swayed a little bit, making fast footwork to stop herself from stumbling over into the nasty contents on the ground.

"We'll take a cab," she said. "I doubt anyone would come looking in Pyrige." At least she'd come back in full human form and not demi-form, despite how awful it felt to her. She looked at Brennan, and nodded to him. "Can you lose the wings, or do you need help?" She spoke somewhat less forcefully than she'd ever before, and it was a strange change. Brennan might not understand it, but Amaltheia was finally whole again, even if he wasn't.

It was true that she'd shifted to falcon and back to full human before he could react, since all he did was blink inbetween.  Not that it mattered, since he'd seen Avalon shift before.  Hawks and falcons weren't THAT different physically that it should be a shock for him to see.  Why she seemed so unsteady was a different story, but he could almost understand.  He still shot forward to attempt helping her steady herself, though.

Her question surprised him, honestly.  Need help?  Shifting?  Should he?

No, he'd be fine.  He knew how to do this, he'd lived as a shifter all his life.  How could shifting from demi to human form be any different now?

HA!  Wrong answer.

He tried, his mind feeling frazzled and a wreck already from the entire situation weighing on him, not to mention being physically tired due to having DIED, and he failed.  The problem with failing this time was that he didn't just remain in his demi-form.  Oh no, that'd be too easy, and nothing was easy for him lately.  No, he threw the energy out to shift, but hadn't managed to focus enough to really force it to do what he wanted.  Perhaps he was lazy from having gotten used to the way things were, but the added levels of power, even if he was tired and weakened, meant that everything was skewed.  Having not actually DONE anything with that power, it essentially rebounded right back at him.

Painfully.

He was grabbing at the grimy wall with a sharp gasp, certain he was going to drop right there for an instant, and he realized almost a full minute later that he hadn't actually accomplished anything.  Lovely.

"Oh, Brennan," she said softly. She let him fall, pulling what was left of her energy up to shield herself as the cold of his magic brushed against her, physically dropping the temperature in the alley a few degrees. She moved towards him as swiftly as her sore body could manage, and placed her arm on his shoulder. There was evident sadness in her eyes, because now she knew that he really did know, fully, how different he had become.

With her mind, she reached out, into the chaotic stream of energy she had felt around him, and tried to calm it down. She gently urged his wings down, no songs yet to be sung with wishes so simple, despite the level of difficulty this was for them at the current moment. Slowly, they seemed to comply, fading away.

"Come on," she said, nodding her head a little. She offered an arm for support, and she found that when she started to walk, she was limping a little. She needed to sleep, badly, to rest from all of this... madness.

Amazing that, with everything going on, it actually hurt his pride to need help with something as simple and reverting to full human form.  It did, though.  He couldn't help it.  By the time he'd recovered somewhat from the unexpected backlash, she was helping to ease his wings down, and there was nothing he could do but take a few deep breaths and let her do it.  She accomplished the job when he couldn't, and that was all that really should have mattered, but it wasn't.

Everything mattered, and it was so very, very much.

He didn't know what he was doing.  She was offering support, trying to help him, and she was so different from the Theia he'd known before, but everything was different.  He was different.  They'd traded situations, it seemed, her regaining what was familiar and beloved, and him losing it all.  He was in unfamiliar territory, and he didn't even know how to function alone yet.  That backlash had been all that was necessary to prove it to him, and it was a sobering, unpleasant thought.  He had to go with her, or he'd be lost.

Not that he was really in any situation to argue.  Even his proud Avian Reserve wasn't objecting loudly enough to the idle thought of just passing out in the alley, and that was saying something for how wiped out he was feeling as the pain of the power surge faded.  He felt wasted and spent, like he didn't have anything else to even offer himself for support.  She'd even calmed the chaotic energy swirling around him, and he didn't have the strength or desire to draw it up again.  Now that it had calmed, it was down for awhile.  He was ready to rest, and regroup.

He accepted her help, not even considering the fact that he was covered in blood, his clothing ripped, as they headed off to wherever it was she decided to go.  He didn't care.  Suddenly, he didn't care about a whole lot.

Theia managed down to the end of the alley, and hailed the first cab she saw. Luckily for her, they weren't in the most spectacular location of New York, so when she got in and Brennan slid in the seat next to her, there was a questioning glance in the rear view mirror, but nothing more aside from a gruff, 'Where to, toots?' to her. She answered, voice devoid of emotion, and then settled back against the seat.

For a while as they drove, she stared out the window, watching the lights as they passed by in a blur - or was that her vision? She couldn't tell. She was at home with her old familiar powers and thoughts again, but she was worn so thin that to even attempt to use them would have proved disastrous for all parties involved. She opted, finally, to rest, leaning her head against Brennan's shoulder. The cab ride was at least twenty minutes long, and in total silence. When they arrived at her home, she paid the cabbie and shut the door, making heavy footfalls towards her front door.

Once inside, she directed Brennan to the guest bedroom. Before he could speak, she held up a hand. "There's a full bathroom in there, and I know an extra robe or two, plus towels and toiletries. Clean up, and then sleep. Sleep as long as you need, but please don't leave before at least waking me. I can assure you now that I will be out of commission for at least twenty four hours, and you will probably do the same, so don't be alarmed when you wake up and a day has passed."

She turned and left him in the doorway of the guest bedroom, presumably to clean up and fall into unconsciousness herself.