Work Text:
The seas lapped calmly on the abandoned pier where Damian often sat to be with his thoughts, the perfect spot to sit in quiet contemplation. It was an exceptional stroke of luck then, that Damian had chosen this pier to be his thinking spot, for otherwise his soulmate may have drowned.
Damian traced pencil marks along an invisible image in his eye, an outline forming from dry white paper. It was in this state of intense focus that he almost missed a faint motion in his peripheral version. It was rare for his concentration to have broken so easily. He shifted his vision in the direction of the disturbance. It had assumed it was a fish leaping out of the water, or perhaps a swooping bird of prey. However, just around the corner of the small island that lay off the coast, he caught another splash.
He stilled. Nothing more. His hearing was awful in this state. His sketchbook and pencil found rest on the pier on one side while he leaned over the other side and dipped his hand into lapping high tide. Immediately his skin shifted and hardened into verdant scales where the water touched it. He slathered the dripping seawater along his ear, flexing it into a wide fan.
There was more splashing and a voice.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Damian tore off his shirt and leapt into the water. His form shifted and melted away, soft brown skin turning into shining emerald, and his legs twisted and melded into a single column of muscle fibre. With his ears in the water, the sound of the drowning person became only more acute, a practical alarm bell ringing in the waves. With one pump of his tail, Damian shot off behind the small island, his arms spread out like airplane wings and shifting as he made a sharp turn.
Within seconds he found a spot on the sea floor where the shadows turned and shifted chaotically. A few meters above on the surface, a boy struggled mightily, his breaths gurgling and his feet kicking uselessly every which way. Long vines wrapped around his body, restricting his movement and providing the reason as to his struggle. Damian shot from the sea floor in a blur of motion. His stomach turned upside down from the surging speed. He hooked his arms underneath the other boy’s shoulders, ignoring his panicked protests. With another flick of his fins Damian crossed the water, depositing the boy on the shallows.
The boy was unconscious. Still. Damian pressed on his chest and heaved. He dragged his tail over the coarse sand – not enough time to shift back – and pressed his lips over the half-drowned boy’s, forcing precious air into his lungs. Wake up. Wake up!
He performed chest compressions on the other kid for nearly two minutes, regularly providing more oxygen into his lungs. Finally, hope bloomed. The boy’s chest heaved on its own, and breathed roughly.
But he still hadn’t awoken. Regardless, he’d achieved a more favourable result than the alternatives. With the boy breathing at least somewhat, Damian had a closer view at just who he fished out of the water. The boy wore loose clothes dripping with water, a bright red cape and blue tunic.
No, it was not a red cape, though its sodden, sorry state hid that fact. As Damian’s eyes adjusted to the surface light, he realised the rougher texture in the fabric. He reached out with a single finger, webbing stretched on either side, and touched it.
Feathers.
The boy was a Winged. But how? And why here?
A groan and a stir. Damian startled. The other boy was awakening, and he couldn’t be here. He was still not dry enough to shift, not on such short notice. With no other option left to him, Damian turned tail and dove for the water, leaving not a single trace.
Or so he’d thought.
~~
When his dad eventually found him half-dazed on a deserted island, miraculously still alive, his parents would spend the whole night swapping between stern lectures and tear-filled embraces. They’d ask him what had happened after he’d been shot by the net and fell.
Jon would tell them that he didn’t know. But that was a lie, for he brought back with him a single clue as to his rescuer’s identity.
A scale, shining with emerald light, and tougher than stone.
Somehow, something in Jon told him they were destined to meet again.