Full Moon Fever for Sinthia

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Illya heard the cry of an animal from a distance, his large head coming up out of the water. It was a sight to see such a big male polar bear emerging from a lake in the Sierra Nevada mountains in California. Polar bears not being native to the area. There was another cry. The animal making the sounds seemed terribly hurt. And not too far away. He climbed out of the water and shook himself dry, then at a quick pace, he headed in the direction of the sounds. Pushing through brush and trees as if they were not there. At times he was grateful that when he changed, it was into a larger animal.

It didn't take long for him to cover the distance. The sound was coming from below the ridge of the hill. There was something there, hidden by brush and trees. It was badly hurt, the smell of blood was proof of that. Illya carefully climbed down the steep hill. He pushed through a heavy thicket of brambles and on the other side of it was... a snow leopard? It's leg caught in one of those horrible steel jawed traps.

Comments

[abyssum_invocat]

As they shed their fur, both of them were naked in the chilly air: she still limping, her ankle mangled from the bear trap. It was healing, but slowly, and would take a while longer to completely right itself.

"You aren't from around here, are you? A polar bear."

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"Did my accent give me away?" he asked. "Do you need a hand?" he offered her his arm so that she could lean against him and take some of her weight off her injured leg.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I don't think it's cold enough for polar bears here," she says, gladly taking his arm to take her weight off her injured leg. "The bear trap tore the skin, but I don't know if any bones are broken. I can't put much weight on it," Sinthia murmured, shivering in the cold.

"You're Russian?"

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"It is not. Also there is a somewhat considerable lack of seals for food," he said, helping her into the house. He guided her to the couch near the fire place and knelt down to start a fire. "I make due alright. It would not be cold enough for snow leopard either."

"Da. You are also not American," She had obviously been in the states longer than he had, her accent, which he thought sounded Germanic was much softer.

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She sat on the couch heavily, glad for the respite of putting her weight on her foot. "I am not American," she confirms. "I was born in Berlin. But I have not lived there for a long time."

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"Moscow. I have not been home in a long while either," he admitted. When the fire was crackling, and putting out good amount of heat, he rose. "I will put on the kettle for tea, and some clothes." Though he was not to worried about being naked, it would just be warmer. "I will try to find something that will fit you."

He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove to heat. Then went to his bedroom. He slipped into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and brought out one of his old polo shirts for her.

He emerged, and held out the shirt for her, "This should fit you. How is your leg healing?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"I thought I recognized the accent," she chuckled, pulling on the polo shirt he handed her: as he was a good deal taller than her it fell to the tops of her thighs. "It will hurt for a few hours, but already the bleeding has stopped," Sinthia answered, carefully examining the wound, though she couldn't feel any broken skin any longer.

"You live a long way out in the wildnerness, alone."

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"It is looking better already," he said as she slipped on the shirt. It almost made a dress on her. It didn't make her any less beautiful. "Good. It will not take long to heal, but you are welcome to stay."

"I do. Because of what we are." The kettle started to whistle and he turned down the stove beneath it. He made cups of tea and set them on a tray with milk and sugar, and slices of fresh lemon, she could choose what she wanted to put in her own tea. He brought it to the low table by the couch. "I am Illya Kuryakin," he said, setting the tray down. "I'm afraid I have no cookies to go with it. I have not driven into town to get groceries yet."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Thank you," she said softly, picking up a teacup and letting it warm her hands for a moment before she drank.

"My name is Sinthia," she replied. "You live out here all the time, then? Not just when you're a bear?"

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"Da, I like the quiet. It is peaceful here," he smiled, taking a sip of his own tea. It was entirely different from his earlier life. It was the first time he didn't have to fight for his existence. High in the mountains, it also got decently cool, even if it didn't get down to arctic temperatures.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Sometimes too peaceful," she said, shaking her head. "I live in the city. Or I did, until recently."

She considered him as she drank, remembering the tattoos she'd seen on him when he transformed back into a man from his bear shape. "How long have you been like this?"

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"Sometimes," he smiled. "I used to be in the city too." It had been a long time since anyone had asked him any questions about himself. Most people were afraid of him. He gave her a shrug, "About six years, I think. How long for you?"

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"Ten years," she answered. "It was an accident, there was a fight and it got out of hand," Sinthia elaborated, though she kept it vague. "But here we are."

She shrugged. "You have a lot of tattoos. Did you get them before, or after?"

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"I had some before. More after," If she had been in the Vor she would have recognized them tattoos. After he was turned, the process of getting them was far more arduous. It took a great deal of work to get them to stay instead of just healing. "My change was no accident," he admitted despite his misgivings about telling her so much information about himself.