bsumone | ❝ Our greatest glory is not in never falling ❞

This time of the year is usually quiet. With the fish not yet having spawned and the vegetation not yet fully grown, the humans had not yet started wandering his way looking for blessings or requesting to fish and gather in and around his river. A small handful will happen by from time to time, but the majority of those who take the time to see him will be by in the coming months. So for now, his days are rather quiet. They're mostly spent watching the watching the wildlife or sleeping, waiting for when he'll be needed again.

Today is one such day where sleeping the time away seems to win out over everything else. The fewer days he drags out while having an infinite number of them the better. His long, serpentine body is stretched out just beneath the water in the deepest part of the river, his scales catching the sunlight in such a way that makes him near undetectable beneath the shimmering surface unless one where to be specifically looking for him there. There, he sleeps rather soundly until he's awoken by a nearby rumble. Disturbingly nearby. He opens his eyes and lifts his head just far enough above the water to see what had happened. What fresh hell have the humans unleashed on his beautiful river bank? Does he have to make an example out of a human today?

Nam takes a moment to shift into his more human-looking form before pulling himself up out of the water to stand on the riverbank opposite the fresh crater. He pushes his wet hair out of his face as he stares narrow-eyed at the destruction on the other side of the water. "What do you think you're doing?"

Oh, crap. He’d ended up disturbing someone after all. Gaja’s quite literally crawling out of the very large hole he made (thank goodness most humans just assume a rock fell from the heavens) when he shivers at the feel of those irate eyes on him. Getting out of the crater actually takes some time given that he’s too weak to simply stand and pull himself out of it. Still, he manages a smile toward the river’s guardian once he flops on the ground beside the hole.

In this form, at this time, Gaja’s usually bright plumage has faded, leaving him looking dull and boring (in his opinion). But when he peers up at the river spirit, there’s still shimmering flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes. And maybe a spark of mischief that still remained.

“Dying,” he rasped. Yes, Gaja means it literally.

Had Nam not been here to see exactly what happened, he might have thought the same as the humans. He might have thought that it was nothing more than a rock falling from the sky, though he'd start to question it when he found no such rock in the bottom of the crater. As it happens, though, Nam is usually here to see what happens. This time, he maybe not have seen the creature fall out of the sky, but he's certainly seeing the aftermath of it. The very destructive aftermath. The destructive aftermath that Nam will probably have to fix himself.

In the face of the bird's smile, Nam narrows his eyes further, though the rest of his expression stays mostly neutral. This is no time for smiles, bird. The river's guardian is rather displeased with your presence.

"Must you do it here?"

Oh, no. Gaja always cleans up after himself. It might be a few days, though. He still has to die and be reborn – unfortunately neither of those things follow an exact timeline. It could be another few days before Gaja bursts into flames. After that, it could be a few days to almost a fortnight before he emerges from the ashes.

It probably would’ve been safer for him to stay in the hole. He doesn’t know this spirit and there’s no promise that Nam won’t slimply kick his pile of ash into the wind. How awful that would be for Gaja specifically.

Panting quietly at the exertion to get out of the very hole he’s currently considering slithering back into, Gaja’s smile fades by degrees.

“I’m afraid it must be here. I haven’t the strength to go anywhere else.”

And yet Nam will take it upon himself to fix the hole the bird left anyway. Unless that's where it decides to die, then Nam would rather not look at the eyesore of a hole for days or potentially weeks. But if that's where the bird dies, then he's not about to disturb it. He may be protective of this area, but he isn't so cruel that he would disturb some poor creature's resting place, regardless of how temporary it might be.

Though Nam will probably never say such a thing out loud (he doesn't want to encourage this behaviour), he would never do a thing like kicking the bird's ashes into the wind. Again, he's not so cruel as that. And it was safer for Gaja to at least have made himself known to be in the hole. As irritating as this whole situation is, with knowing the bird is there, Nam will protect him. Crash landing in the dragon's domain means forcing himself into the dragon's protection.

He'll watch over the bird until he's himself again, though if Gaja wants to think otherwise of this unknown river spirit he's stumbled upon, Nam will say nothing to the contrary.

"If you must, then you'll do so in the mess you've already created. I won't allow you to burn my river bank."

Gaja cranes his neck to look around, mostly trying to gauge the distance from where he lies to anything particularly flammable. The trees are a good distance away, probably save unless his immolation is particularly explosive. In which case it’s possible for a spark to reach some brush stretching out.

Yes, it’s definitely safer for him and the area around him to die in the hole. After all the effort to climb out of it! Gaja heaves a sigh and lets his head fall back to the ground.

Under most conditions, Gaja could control his fire. It would burn only what he wishes it to burn. But at this particular point in his life cycle the flames are no longer his to control (hence why they burn him as well).

“I can’t promise not to singe some of it,” he admits ruefully. “You may want to go back in the water when it happens. To be safe.” Another sigh before he adds, “I’ll do my best to keep everything around here safe from the flames.”

Nam cants his head ever so slightly to one side as he watches the bird. Of all the places for such a destructive thing to land, it had to be in him home, near his river. All he cares about in this world is right here, and he risks losing it to a ball of flame and ash. Which means he risks losing himself to this troublesome bird. And yet he simply can't bring himself to force the bird elsewhere. Sure, Gaja said he doesn't have the strength to move on, but Nam possesses the strength to move him. To be completely honest, Nam possesses the jaws and teeth to eat the bird as well, but he'll do neither.

Nam will watch the bird as he's doing now, and he'll watch the surrounding area as he's always done. He'll take care of any stray sparks and errant flames. He'll risk losing everything to watch over this bird who unknowingly came to him.

"I'm not afraid of your flames. Besides, I told you I'll not allow you to burn my river bank, which means keeping an eye on you until your fire's gone out."

Though they’ve only just met (and under less than ideal circumstances), Gaja’s grateful that Nam’s going to keep this terrain safe. Perhaps crashing here was fortunate after all. He’s pretty sure he’s far enough away from the trees… but he’s never certain. He could sputter out or blow up. It’s not up to him to decide how a lifecycle ends.

Gaja shifts to peer at Nam in his human form. Some inhabitant of the river, clearly, but what exactly isn’t clear to him. All he can sense is power and age. His expression turns curious. “How big is your real body?” If it’s large enough, he could sweep the hole closed when Gaja begins to burn. That will surely help to protect this land.

The bird may feel fortunate for having crashed here, but the dragon feels it's his own misfortune that lead the flaming creature here. Though the vegetation around his river is green and vibrant at this time of the year, full of life and not quite as susceptible to burning as it may be during the colder months, all it would take is one errant spark that escapes Nam's attention for just a little too long for him to lose everything.

And yet Nam still can't bring himself to force the bird elsewhere. He can't foist the responsibility of tending to the bird's fires on someone else when he's fully able to do it on his own, so long as he remains vigilant, of course. Being a creature of the water, Nam may actually be best suited for the task, even. It would be in the best interest of many for him to not ignore so large a fact.

Nam's brows pull together ever so slightly at the stranger's question before he turns toward his river and idly gestures at it. "My size is comparable to the river, itself. More than large enough, I'm sure, for whatever plan your question seems to be leading to."

From what he'd seen during his fall, the river's a large one. If the stranger's body was comparable in size, yes, he's more than large enough to sweep the displaced earth back over the hole with Gaja inside. Nam seems eager to protect this land (unsurprising given how territorial many sedentary creatures are. Gaja has no idea what that feels like, personally. His only home is the sky and that spans the world. But this creature, his home is this river and the adjacent lands. Of course he wants to protect it from destruction.

And destruction is all uncontrolled phoenix fire brings.

It may have been a comical sight under different circumstances. The bird in a human form, the upper half of his body draped over the crater's edge, fingers digging into the ground to keep himself from sliding back into it. But there's real concern, real fear in those gold-flecked dark eyes. Sweat dots his brow from the effort to keep himself from letting go to fall back into the hole. Washed-out blond hair clings to his face and every breath sounds ragged.

"When the fire starts, bury me." It's not an order by any stretch of imagination. Gaja wouldn't dare try to order anything around when he's at his weakest. It's more of a suggestion, one he's pretty certain Nam will agree to if it helps protect his land.

Nam would hardly suffer the stranger giving him orders even if he were at his full strength. A dragon takes orders from no one, especially not on his own land. The intruder makes a good suggestion, however, and it's one that Nam will put some considerable thought into. Whatever Nam has to do to see this land through the coming flames, even if it means taking the suggestion of some lowly bird, he will do it. While he would survive the flame as well as the river itself, little else would. What kind of guardian would that really make him?

Loosely folding his arms across his chest, Nam turns his attention back to the blond. He could just fill the hole in with water right now, with the bird still inside, and perhaps be done with this whole thing before it actually starts. For just a moment, he does consider that over the bird's suggestion, yet he makes no such moves. He does, however, make his way a little closer to the weakened intruder, opting to sit on a large boulder near the edge of the bird's crater.

"When the fire starts, I will do whatever I feel is necessary."

The soil would definitely help to keep the flames contained. Sure, it might take Gaja longer to claw his way out of it once he's reborn, but that's something that will only affect him. It this lush riverbank were to catch fire... So many living things would be harmed, directly or indirectly. It's not a risk Gaja wants to take.

Though his crater is probably big enough to keep the fire contained, sparks still fly.

No, this creature will be well within his rights to do whatever he feels is necessary to protect his lands. Gaja has no argument. In fact, he simply nods his head. "Thank you."

So many living things would be harmed. The fire would scorch the earth and take away food that a lot of animals around here depend on or it could harm the animals themselves. The unnatural fire could heat up the river and kill the fish and vegetation living in it. What would there be left for Nam to guard, then? What would there be for him to watch over and protect? Of course everything would likely heal in time, but that wouldn't erase Nam's failings. It would help no one in the meantime and it would lose him the river's trust. He doesn't want any of that.

He will make sure to contain the bird's fire. He will make sure that no sparks escape him. He will make sure that everyone and everything comes out of this unscathed.

"Thank me by leaving here as soon as you're able."

"That could be a few days." Or weeks. It could be a handful of days before the fire even begins. Even more after for the reborn phoenix to emerge from the ashes. And more still for him to regain strength and sense enough to leave. This is truly the most vulnerable time for a phoenix.

Perhaps if Gaja were a little better at gauging the time, he could prepare better. He could find a stone cave deep in the earth. Alas, though he is a cyclical creature, there is no definite time frame for each life. Approximately a hundred years by the human reckoning. By the revolution of this world around its star. It always strikes him so suddenly. One moment he's fine, the next he's falling from the sky.

❝ Our greatest glory is not in never falling ❞

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( sorry so short )

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