The Fallen :::Haru & Skye:::

[Haruchai]

It was the cries of the gulls overhead, nor the feel of the wind upon his skin. Fargrim was used to such sensations in a way. No, it was the gentle lapping of the surf upon his lower legs, the feel of water upon his flesh. That was a new experience and with a grunt Fargrim the Storm sat up. What devilry was this? What trickery?! The man had never had to put forth any effort to move in his entire existence and yet sitting up had required... exertion. Even strain. A dull throbbing sensation wracked his body and the sudden realization that he ached spun through his mind. This was impossible. Unprecedented.

Fargrim managed to get his feet under him, the strange feeling of sand squeezing between his toes made him look down as his weight had him sink slightly into the surf. Dressed in a simple tunic, which was quite soaked, Fargrim felt himself swoon and wobbled on his feet, his knees weak. This was all so foreign, so alien. From beneath dark brows he lifted his eyes and a hiss of discomfort issued forth, the sun overhead shining brightly, partially blinding, and Fargrim growled in displeasure.

Instinctively shielding his eyes he looked up and down the beach, the bright blue waters still lapping at his ankles, and he saw another figure. Not too distant a form seemed sprawled in the sand, dressed in dark cloth, and Fargrim willed himself to move that way. Still stationary the fact he did not move vexed him and his eyes cast about for a cause, his shadow falling into his vision. It was... mundane. His wings, his perfect golden wings were gone, and the loss hit him like a thunderbolt.

With a pained groan Fargrim grit his teeth and deigned to walk along the beach and toward the form still lying still upon the sand. This... this could not be! Legs felt shaky and weak beneath him, and Fargrim realized that in all his millennia of existence he had never truly used them! He'd never had a need. Soon the form could be made out and Fargrim fell to his knees beside the female. "Oh sweet sister mine! What has become of us?" he asked though blurry vision as some strange emotion welled within him and he looked down at the pale form of his sibling. Was she dead? was he? What was this place?

Reaching toward her with a trembling hand the softness of her skin felt odd, and Fargrim shook her gently.

 

[PrincessSkye]

Melara dreamed. She dreamed of Archeron. She dreamed of humanity and its myriad strengths. She knew more than most what strengths humans perceived in themselves, as it was usually in testing them that they came to meet her again. More than most gods, Melara knew mankind. She was present when they entered the world, and welcomed them when they left it. Her dreams were filled with faces, a swirling mass of humanity that she was falling into, dropping at a rate that terrified her.

She woke slowly, her fevered dreams having left her groggy. She was used to waking slowly, but there was a weight to her body that seemed different. Even her eyelids seemed leaden, resisting her attempts to open them. She attempted to ascertain where she was without sight, but even her senses were dulled. She knew she was laying on sand, with a cool breeze playing across her skin. She was dimly aware of the sound of water somewhere nearby, its peaceful lapping soothing her aching head.

Yes. That was the word. Ache. She was aware of pain at a conceptual level, but the immediacy of the sensation was shocking. Melara understood pain better than most gods, but this was different. It was as if there was a smith working iron inside her skull, pounding the inner walls of a skull she had never had before.

Then she became aware of another sensation. A hand. Someone was touching her, causing her to start, flinching away from the staranger's touch. Her eyes snapped open, staring at the man in front of her. She backed away, scooting across the sand on the palms of her hand. Her damp black tunic bunched around her muscular thighs, pulling taught and binding against her movements. Around her neck a stole of crow feathers fluttered gently in the breeze.

"Who are you? My wrath will come down upon you with fury the likes of which you cannot know!"

 

[Haruchai]

Melara's reaction was not at all what Fargrim had expected and as she recoiled so too did he, and confusion reigned for a moment as she asked whom he was. "Melara! Tis I! Fargrim the Storm! Your brother!" he exclaimed, and looked down upon himself and in fact staggered back in surprise. Not only had he lost his wings but he had become, or at least had the appearance of, a mere human. Fargrim the Storm as he had existed no longer held sway, and the man sank to his knees. "It is I Melara, you must believe me my sister." he groaned, the loss of what he was cutting to his very core. What had become of him? The Lord of the Sky and Father of Storms... now a mere human upon the beaches of Archeron? It defied description and twisted in the face of any explanation.

One hand reached beseechingly for his sibling. "What has happened?" he asked, as he looked at his now human body with both astonishment and disgust. This was what it felt like to be mortal?! How had this come to be? Bright ice blue eyes regarded his sister and it seemed that whatever had happened had not scoured the powers of the Storm Lord completely away as electricity seemed to crackle from those orbs. "We will find who has done this to us and make them suffer." he hissed, and deep within himself he could feel tendrils of his former power.

Pushing himself up off the ground, becoming more used to this mortal coil by the moment, Fargrim flexed his arm, seeing how the muscles shifted and moved under the skin. Breathing deep he pulled air into his lungs and exhaled strongly as he turned to Melara again. "See me Melara. You must!" he insisted, hoping that she would see him for what he was. Her form, exquisite as ever, had not changed as much as his own, his avian features having been stripped completely away.

Above them the gulls wheeled, crying out their insistence for food, and then, mere yards away, a raven landed upon an outcropping of rock. Fargrim pointed. "we are recognized yet!" he exclaimed and would move toward his sister and hold out a hand. "Tis not the place of a goddess to wallow in the sand." he would say, his baritone voice soft and hopefully comforting as he offered to help her to her feet.