Crusoe
(Or, Oh boy, RvB medical conditions!)
Cold water splashed his snout, waking him.
"I'm up!" He cried, falling to the floor as he struggled to stand up.
Wait,
Where am I?
"Um." Crusoe managed.
A RainWing was sitting by his bed, his expression unimpressed.
"Nice to meet you, Crusoe." He muttered with a smirk.
Crusoe fell back in shock. "How did you-"
"You talk in your sleep. I already know almost everything you experienced before. Now the real question is, who were you before you woke up yesterday?" The RainWing asked accusingly.
Woah, he talks too fast.
"I was uhm," he paused. "Hold on, I shouldn't even be alive! How am I here wit-"
"I happened to be looking for shards of ore to create throwing knives with when I came upon you, bleeding out in the middle of nowhere. Your sleep-talking already told me you were attacked by NightWings, which makes somewhat sense, but I'd have no clue why they'd be here just to kill you. Hm. You didn't happen to tick them off, no?"
Crusoe shook his head, struggling to remember how he'd gotten to the Rainforest.
"I...don't remember, actually." He muttered quietly.
The RainWing stood up with a grim expression. "Then you better hope that's all that's wrong with you, because your condition might be worse than I thought."
Crusoe blanched. "W-what do you mean?"
"Your jugular vein was slit, which in turn cuts your brain off from oxygen. This can alter your brain drastically, such as complete personality changes, color confusion, and,"
He paused. "...Loss of long-term memories as well as short-term memory. Both are bad, but short-term is possibly the worst-case scenario. Tell me, can you recall what happened two days ag- I mean, yesterday?"
Crusoe ignored him catching himself, recalling waking up and searching for the RainWing village.
He told the doctor this, who laughed in grim humor. "Well, congratulations, you found it."
Crusoe's eyes widened. "Really?"
The RainWing nodded, his scales flickering from his navy blue color to a bright yellow, then got ahold of his emotions, shifting back to his passive scale color.
Bright yellow….Excitement? Or pride…?
Wait, how did I know that…
He forgot how he knew that, maybe he read it somewhere?
Do I like reading?
"Did I have anything on me when you found me?" He asked curiously.
The RainWing shook his head. "Nooooo, but I did find a weird leather bag nearby. Do you want to take a look and see if it's yours? The stuff inside was strange, so I didn't bother to inspect them thoroughly."
Something feels off. My mind says this is normal, but another part of me is telling me to be suspicious of his intelligence.
"Why are you so smart? I mean, no offense, but some of this stuff even I don't feel familiar with."
The RainWing smiled warmly. "No offense taken. I was able to understand enough of some medicinal scrolls I'd recovered from an abandoned scroll cairn in the forest." he said, shrugging.
Sounds realistic.
"I'm assuming you're a doctor. And throwing knives? Aren't you guys peaceful and pacifistic and stuff like that?" Crusoe asked, frowning and tilting his head.
"It's a recreational hobby." The RainWing explained. "Not many of us practice it, as all it's useful for now is getting fruit from high places."
Crusoe nodded understandingly. "Uh-huh…. So, what's YOUR name?"
"Oh! Right. I'm Sage, nice to meet you." he replied awkwardly, dipping his head.
"Sage," Crusoe experimented. "Nice name."
"I suppose." he replied casually.
The two sat in silence for a moment.
"Soooo…" Crusoe began. Sage shifted uncomfortably. "If you ask, yes, I'll help you learn to fly."
Crusoe's jaw gaped open in surprise. "How much did I say in my sleep?"
The RainWing laughed. "Enough to write a memoir."
"Well," Crusoe inhaled. "I was writing everything down in a book, so I guess that'd explain why my mind would record everything in a storytelling form…."
Wait, yeah, I have a journal, I think. I left it in…..my backpack, I'm pretty sure. Maybe that's what he found, my backpack must've fallen when I….transformed….
I need to figure out how to clear my mind, I'm going to hurt myself trying to remember these things.
Crusoe struggled to stand up. "Woah…" He mumbled, holding onto Sage until he got his balance. "So, how long was I out, exactly?"
Sage sighed. "Two days."
"TWO DAYS!?" Crusoe cried.
"Well, actually, when you look at it that way, it's not that bad." Sage muttered.
"It's two days!" Crusoe whined. "How is that NOT THAT BAD?"
Sage shrugged helplessly. "It gave you time to heal your neck?"
Crusoe sighed "Yeah, fine. Just direct me to the flight instructor, I don't care if I get weird looks."
"You have somewhere to go?" Sage asked skeptically.
"Someone to find. Multiple someones, actually." Crusoe amended.
The RainWing shook out his wings. "Okay then. I'll be here if you need me."
Learning to fly was surprisingly easier than it sounded.
The instructor had given him an odd look when he'd explained his situation, but within a few hours he'd been able to effectively perform most of the wing exercises, ignoring spying RainWings observing him. He lifted off for what he'd assumed was the fortieth time, and his wing muscles had began to ache, hindering his confidence to continue the test, the pain constantly nagging like a fly that just wouldn't leave him alone.
Sage had came by to watch his progress at what Crusoe thought was close to an hour ago, but in reality it was only twenty minutes.
"Good, I think that's it." The instructor sighed, then muttering, "I wish my actual students paid that much attention…."
Well I guess that's a good sign.
He tucked his wings to his sides, dropping down onto the wooden platform with an audible thump.
This was actually kinda fun…Never thought I'd like a class except reading and history, but I guess there's a first time for everything.
Few things had unearthed small tidbits of his memory, such as Sage mentioning something about flight techniques were slightly different than others, such as SandWing flight styles being designated for longer flight time and RainWing's being more for aerial agility and maneuverability.
"Wait, how do you know this?" Crusoe asked incredulously.
The RainWing slowly shrugged, looking oddly tranquil. "I do weekly merchant runs to the Scorpion den. Place really likes exotic fruit, I'll tell you that. I had to learn some basic reading to get a merchant's permit, but I guess it wasn't too hard…" he finished, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.
Hm. I wonder if I'll be able to understand whatever form of writing they use here….
Probably not, but that's not gonna stop me from learning. I wonder if the words are some form of a runic alphabet…
I'll figure it out later.
He suddenly remembered his backpack.
"Where's the bag you mentioned?" he asked Sage, who'd begun fiddling with a piece of flint and a rather peculiar-looking throwing knife.
"Hmm? Oh, I left it around here somewhere, in a little kind of overhang thing." he replied, obviously more focused on his knife, which he was carving some kind of design into it with the flint shard.
How has that not snapped from the strain? Crusoe wondered.
"Well that's certainly specific." Crusoe muttered. "This is a rainforest, and in case it slipped your mind, trees are in surprisingly full supply."
The RainWing shrugged once again, continuing with his knife decoration.
Crusoe sniffed indignantly, then asked, "Is it in the village at least?"
Sage nodded slowly and distractedly.
Well, on the bright side, I can get a bit more flight practice in.
He ran and then leapt off the edge of the platform, opening his sand-colored wings and gliding downward, the giddy feeling of falling not having hit him yet. He held back a smile at the odd amusement of how easy it all suddenly was, where as a few minor hours ago he was literally flightless as a stone.
Well, I guess stones aren't entirely flightless… they get thrown all the time.
He circled around the tree the platform was placed on, noting the tree's abnormal circumference as his eyes darted to each thick overhang he could find, not finding the familiar leather knapsack.
Time to check somewhere else…. He thought with a certain level of disappointment.
I'll try the medical hut, that's above the ground, and I'm pretty sure Sage works there.
If he doesn't, maybe it's good to be cautious around him. He would seem a bit too interested with me to be in a semi-neutral position.
He tilted his wings toward the direction of the medical hut's location, ignoring an odd back twinge.
Crusoe tried recalling how he remembered his backpack, because the memory was just… there. He couldn't think of any links to other memories that was connected to the thing.
Oh well. I know I'll get answers from this, one way or another.
Everything's so hard to remember….
He did a sweep of the lower branches, checking every nook and crevice in between the long thick wooden tendrils.
He latched onto a branch that looked more that capable of holding his weight, resting his wings for a short bit.
Crusoe was beginning to lose hope, his head slouched lower in small hints of despair.
Who knows, what if it's on the ground somewhere? Someone could've knocked it down accidentally…
I guess I'll look there then!
He readied his wings, unintentionally brushing an overhead branch, knocking something smooth, warm, and leathery on top of his snout, the strap looped underneath his eyes across his muzzle.
No way.
He carefully pulled the worn leather strap off of his face, examining the outside of the bag.
There were three main zipper-pockets, each getting smaller the further away they were arranged from the back. Small decorative patches were scattered about, sown on and colorful.
Crusoe brushed a talon over one that was shaped oddly like a golden yellow 'U' that had been flipped on his side and split in half.
This thing…
I wonder what it i-
A searing pain erupted from his skull, his ears ringing.
He opened his jaws to scream, but nothing came out but a soundless whistle of rushed air.
Oh god oh god oh god…
He slammed his eyes shut as an image faded out of his vision, him being just barely able to catch a glimpse.
What he'd seen, hands, his hands, painting one of those strange devices red and black.
There was another person there…
Crusoe could see a humanoid figure, covered in cherry-red feathers and sporting a red and white cap above his beaked face.
Is he like, a bird man?
I feel like I know him so well, but don't know him at all at the same time.
Weird.
He ignored the other patches, their designs looking not as sentimental and symbolic.
Time to open this can of worms, he thought, grimacing.
Carefully, he caught the tiny zipper in between two of his black talons, carefully pulling open the metal strip.
Crusoe pulled the bag open, examining it's contents.
Woah.
Inside were multiple things, recognizable and indistinguishable items alike.
The things he recognized: His journal, a flip-knife, a pencil, and a granola bar.
Of the things he didn't; A strange metal object that resembled a '7', and a flat glass and plastic slate.
Weird. I think my journal should have anything I need to learn at the moment, at least, I hope.
These objects though, I feel like they'll be important sometime soon.
He shifted the backpack in his talons, bouncing it and feeling for the weight.
It's almost big enough to be an arm pouch for a dragon my size, all I have to do is adjust the straps.
Crusoe tugged gently on the loose slack at the bottom of the pack, shifting the position and tightness of the shoulder straps, the soft leather tightening onto his arm.
He moved his front foreleg forward as if to take a step, seeing if the weight would be too much of a weight unbalance.
It wasn't.
In fact, it was perfect.
Great. Now I just need to find a place that's not as….
He looked down at the forest floor below and shuddered.
….easy to lose things from.
Extending his wings, he launched himself off the branch and headed back to the last place he'd seen Sage.
Because you know, he really knew nobody else there.
(I'm saying it now, Classic Spyro is way cooler than the Skylanders version.)
(Reignited looks awesome.)
(Just say'n)
(That's how old this is. Spyro Reignited has JUST CAME OUT BROO this is some really bad writing compared to what I've done these days smh)