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Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Iskra - 03-31-2025
Melita
A wet tongue coaxed Iskra to wake, especially as it probed around his nostrils. A leaden hand waved several times until it collided with the dog's face. He gently pushed the beast away, groaning. Goose leaned back until the hand fell off, then gave a series of soft barks. [say]"Shut uuuup"[/say] Iskra grumbled, twisting slowly to his side and leaning up on an elbow. He yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Undeterred, the dog circled around him and pounced on his exposed back. [say]"Hey!"[/say] Iskra roared, trying to reach back to scruff the mongrel. Goose danced away from his hands, and defeated, Iskra was forced to change tactics as he rose to his feet. The dog danced from side to side at his feet, tail waving. [say]"I'm up, I'm up."[/say]
Iskra leaned into a tall stretch, his hands reaching far above him. He felt his bones settling under his skin, some popping with a pleasant sensation. [say]"Gods, what time is it?"[/say] he asked of no one in particular. He kept on hand raised, shielding his eyes from the too-bright rays that filtered down from the trees. Everything felt a bit too much this morning, which he supposed meant he'd had a bit too much last night. He remembered bits and pieces of it, especially meeting the stranger, Sunjata, but he honestly didn't remember how he got here. When had he decided to go camping in the woods? Where was his shirt?
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Melita - 04-01-2025
The Honeybee wandered – content in it, as her eyes scanned the ground. Fangorn and Sila made an easy pair to saunter with – the vampire gourd at her heels, the dragon hovering near her shoulder. Between the three, she figured any of them were capable of spotting a gods damned flower in the middle of the woods.
But then there was the barking of a dog ahead, and Melita’s eyes narrowed. Nosiness compelled, though she tread lightly through brush, bracken, and leaf litter collected on the woods grounds. Weapons were ready, always at her disposal in the flick of a wrist or the tempestuous edges of her fingers – if they happened to run into someone on her shit list.
Which, turned out, was sort of the truth. She snorted, quite loudly, as she recognized the voice upon their approach to the tent, and she sidled herself right in view of the opening, so if and when he heard her voice, it’d potentially snap him to attention. [say]“Nice to know you’re alive,”[/say] she announced – arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed, trying not to let the bitterness and rancor flow through.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Iskra - 04-02-2025
Goose, the useless mongrel that he was, did not indicate Melita's approach. Although accustomed to being out in the wilderness with Iskra and meeting strangers in town, the dog had a sense, and a mood, for when he felt like alerting to danger or uncertainty, and when he trusted the encounter to be something that would leave them unscathed. It seemed the mood Goose was in today was shitty, because Iskra was about to be extremely scathed.
Her voice nearly struck him like an arrow. Such was the physical response to those honeyed tones sliding over to him, except this particular flavor seemed imbued with peppers and garlic, a spice too intense to handle alone. Iskra instantly stilled, his breath hitched in his chest as if something heavy had just slammed on top of him and his ribs no longer had the space to expand and inhale. What was she doing here? Gods above, why did it have to be her? Why now, when his skull felt like it'd cleave in two just from blinking?
Like a scary monster under your bed, Iskra wondered for the tiniest moment if she'd vanish if he didn't look at her. Maybe, he was still asleep, and this was just another night terror?
He took a risk and glanced up at her. It sealed his fate.
[say]"Mel?"[/say] Her name left his lips like a prayer, but his plea was for mercy, not salvation. Despite the whip of terror coursing through him, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her. She was one of the few good things left in his world. Although, she wasn't really in his world, was she? He had made sure of that, time and time again. [say]"I... yeah. Recently, I guess you could say."[/say] His hands felt sweaty and he nervously pressed them against his pants, grateful that he at least had those on.
He glanced around, still hoping he might find his shirt and salvage some dignity this morning in front of her. The action felt good; felt better than standing there and simmering in unease. [say]"I was just going to make breakfast,"[/say] he said with a forced smile. [say]"Please, stay, I'll make you whatever... well as long as it's eggs."[/say] Even if he had done nothing but disappoint her, even if he didn’t deserve a second of her time, he’d do whatever it took to hold onto this. He'd not make the same mistake twice thrice.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Melita - 04-03-2025
Melita would like to be thought of as a monster, certainly. Maybe not by Iskra, but hordes of others – a threatening little menace the world would do well to leave alone. The honeyed tones had lost their sweetened fringes ages before, when survival held far more meaning than any innocence or niceties; she’d lived because she was a determined, unrelenting force of a cretin, accustomed to brutality now more so than anything her mother and sister might have tried to counter with. And bitterness too – for constantly being left behind, even when she’d thought herself on even ground.
The plea on his voice was met with an even more dangerous angle to her glare. Fangorn immediately shifted off to the right, having felt the atmosphere alter, and Sila continued to stealthily climb upwards, hovering out of range and reach. [say]“And what is that supposed to mean?”[/say] Like he hadn’t been around or fucked off or done whatever?
Though her eyes flicked from his chest to his nervous actions, content, for the instant, that she was making him apprehensive. Maybe he remembered to soothe the ruffled edges with food, or it was pure happenstance, because no sooner had he mentioned eggs, than her stomach rumbled. Pretending it didn’t occur, she contemplated her options; leaving him alone, being mad a little longer, or eating. She could probably do both latter parts.
Trying to decide on how cross she was, the mercurial demigod simply sat down on a nearby rock, arms still folded, acceptance in something. [say]“Sure.”[/say]
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Iskra - 04-05-2025
He did not immediately respond to her question, though the visible flinch that ended in a dry gulp demonstrated he had heard it. It was not an easy thing to explain or admit to. He instead plunged all his focus on the breakfast, relieved at her terse agreement to it. It was something, even if it was only a frail buffer to the storm that would still unleash.
At her acceptance, he spun on his heels (which was a mistake as his brain swam in his skull) and ducked into his tent to pull out the supplies. [say]"You look well,"[/say] he called over his shoulder as he grabbed the pan and the box of eggs he'd packed in preparation for his camping trip here. When he popped back out of the tent, items in hand, he offered her one of his sunny smiles. Perhaps, if he pretended all was well instead of rolling over like a kicked dog, everything would miraculously snap back into place, a puzzle that was never overturned and its pieces left scattered. [say]"Something's different,"[/say] he mused as he kept sneaking (very obvious) glances at her in between setting the pot down on last night's fire pit. He snapped some collected kindling into sizable pieces and stuffed them under the kitchenware. [say]"Is it your hair? A new necklace?"[/say]
Goose meanwhile kept watching Sila as the dragon flitted around, looking very much like a toy. The dog, however, was always wary of other people's companions, as most tended to be larger or fiercer than he. The husky snorted softly, but gave up on tracking the dragon as Iskra fumbled with all the breakfast items. Carefully, the dog crept closer, waiting for Iskra's back to be turned as he busied himself with the fire. Licking his chops, Goose plunged his snout into the box of eggs and daintily took one in his mouth. Before he could be reprimanded, he trotted a bit away, his prize cradled on his tongue.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Melita - 04-05-2025
His lack of an answer grated far more than it soothed. She was used to her uncle’s way of deflecting; the ease in which charismatic endeavors simply brushed shit off because they didn’t want to respond, or give way to something far more complicated. But Melita was sharp, keen, edged, and she’d wanted more than just his tangible flinch. A clarification would have done wonders over the caustic, embittered, rancorous thoughts immediately blending into her mind. [say]"So you're just not going to explain anything?"[/say]
Her eyes narrowed the moment the compliment was paid – because she didn’t know what the fuck to do with that – and if she could glare daggers into the back of his head as he turned away, then so be it.
Different? Hair or necklace? She snorted, golden eyes flickering back to brush and canopies and anything else laden that didn’t set her off. [say]“Ludo’s demigod now,”[/say] she mentioned casually, as if being anointed as a bundle and maelstrom and tempest of chaos hadn’t placed her on a path of dangerous and ridiculous fringes. She’d died too in the interim of their last meeting and bore those scars all the way down her chest, but fuck him, he wasn’t going to know that now.
Then she watched his dog steal one of the eggs – and frankly, found it funny enough to do nothing about it. Instead, she crossed her legs and muffled a laugh, waiting for either reaction. Fangorn made the wiser choice to intertwine his gourd vines around a nearby tree, as if awaiting a storm.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Iskra - 04-05-2025
Her honey had hardened over time. It encased her more like crystallised amber now, hard and angled. It was still beautiful, still smooth in some areas, but it was more akin to fire than water now, all semblance of fluidity erased with weathering. Iskra had realized more and more, with each moment of their rare encounters, that he no longer knew the girl who smelled like honey that he'd run down sun-kissed beaches with. All this time, he'd put the world on pause. He'd needed just one, gentle moment to grieve, and then he could go back out and play in the ocean spray. Except, it had been years, and he had not frozen time for anyone but himself, and they had passed all around him. He had remained, just one foot out of his childhood, the memories dancing in his mind as if it was just yesterday and not a decade ago. He knew, of course, he was not utterly delusional. At least his mind knew. His heart was another matter, and it thundered at her ire, something he didn't recall she'd ever been able to call forth before.
He didn't know her any more, but he'd like to.
Oblivious to Goose's antics, Iskra spun his hands around the kindling, his fire magic leaping eagerly to consume the timber. [say]"Ah, that's what it is."[/say] He smiled up at her, surprise still there in the lift of his 'brows. A demi-god, this little girl who's laugh could inspire the world? He shook his head faintly, awed at what she'd accomplished, the power she'd amassed, as he cracked some eggs into the pot. The wonder slowly faded to neutrality, as Iskra could not ignore the rancor any longer. He had been searching for how to explain it, but he'd resigned himself to the fact he had no easy answer to give her, fewer still he thought she could understand. Look at her, then look at him. She'd gone and made something of herself. She had taken whatever challenges rose against her and she had smothered them. Iskra himself was barely breathing.
He assembled a few thicker sticks into a grid nearby the pot and threw a few pieces of bread on there. [say]"I don't know how to tell you."[/say] He said it gently, no longer able to look at her, so he watched the food meticulously. [say]"I don't think you would understand."[/say]
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Melita - 04-05-2025
The girl from his past wouldn’t have survived without alteration. Melita couldn’t have existed in all her sweetness and compassion – Caido stifled and smothered those tendencies with every death and every surge and every breaking point. Then it rekindled, incensed, into something a little more twisted, barbaric, and relentless, because otherwise she would’ve been just another ghost out there across landscapes and decades. She wasn’t to be contained and diminished, but clawing and rapacious, a force of chaos and tempests – some days light and airy, and others a mercurial storm. She couldn’t pause. She couldn’t cease. And maybe that had always been the problem. Or the solution. It was difficult to know at all hours, where the weaknesses of becoming something else felt the cracks in her caustic, burning armor, if the frailties of yesteryear wore her down. But then there were laughs or fangs or daggers flung, and the mask was settled, lit, righteous little flames with no end. She’d burnt away most of those close or far – save for her uncle, made of water – or those who could endure the malicious, bedlam-exposed spirit.
She knew ire, rage, wrath, vengeance; names, facets, her mother and sister would’ve never taught her. But they weren’t here, despite every effort she’d ever made.
But Melita didn’t know what Iskra was anymore, besides avoidant. Her brows furrowed again as she watched him, uncertain how to take the answering smile, the shake of his head, the ease in which he simply returned to cooking. He couldn’t even look at her now – and the thought was maddening too, and made her either want to scurry back into brush or flick a stone at his head.
She settled for the in between. Lesser individuals would’ve slunk away with the force of her glare. [say]"Well, you could try.” [/say]Another huff of her breath extended from her mouth, a mulish tilt of her head and a clenching of her jaw followed. [say]“Not really fair of you to decide for me.”[/say] She hadn’t been the one to run away.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Iskra - 04-06-2025
The bread did not take long to crisp into toast, and it seemed to occur just as the eggs were also finishing. Iskra quickly snapped the pieces of toast off the griddle-sticks, depositing them on the box of uncooked eggs for a moment. Nearby, he had simple plates made of metal for ease of travel. He grabbed the pot and shook their scrambled eggs between the two plates, setting the empty pot in the dirt for cleaning later. The toast made it to the plates next, and he fished out a jar of purple jam from the box of eggs. Having forgotten a knife, he did his best to 'pour' the jam out. All the while he was aware of her attention, the scrutiny, the threat of a rock flung against his thick head (maybe it'd help). Yet, he was also determined not to vomit up last night's years of mistakes in front of her, and he knew their conversation would get better after she ate, or so he hoped.
Rising from the crouch he'd been cooking in, Iskra offered her the plate of eggs and jam toast. [say]"Sorry, Goose was in charge of packing the silverware and he forgot."[/say] Iskra gave her a cautious smile at his joke, risking a glance towards his dog that happily snacked on an egg nearby, somehow. He sat himself on a tree stump nearby, his plate balanced on his knees as he bit into the toast. It took some chewing before he could swallow, the bile in his gut roiling at the idea of adding more things to his stomach. [say]"You're right,"[/say] he said finally, tearing off another small piece of toast between his fingers. [say]"You usually are,"[/say] he smirked, thinking of something in the past. [say]"I just don't think you've ever felt like this... like you shouldn't ever be happy again, because then you aren't properly grieving for the one you lost. Because if they're gone, how could there be any happiness left?"[/say] His body gradually hunched forward as he sat there, the heaviness of what he forced on himself visible as all smiles faded. [say]"But at the same time, you're so gods damned tired of mourning, that you don't want to think anymore, you don't want to remember them. So you hide everything that might be a reminder and you avoid all the triggers. You think it's easy, at first, until you realize they're woven into almost all aspects of the world. So, then it's just easier to sleep. For days you sleep. You find ways to make yourself numb, to dull the memories that come when you're awake. You work until you're exhausted so that there's no time to think or to remember, but even after all that work you're somehow still too weak to actually be worth anything at all."[/say] He laughed, a brittle, awful thing. [say]"So yeah, I've been barely alive."[/say]
He finally turned to look at her, but there was nothing kind in his face anymore. She'd wanted the truth, so he dredged it to the surface. All the grief and the shame and the self-loathing shone in the silver that rimmed his eyes, in the shadows from the narrowing of his 'brows and the sour turn of his lips. Though it was a blade he dug into his own heart, the horrible feeling of it had him turning that edge towards her too. [say]"Tell me, demi-god, do you understand that? Do you understand what it's like to be so weak and pathetic?"[/say]
He wasn't the same happy boy full of the spark of life anymore, either. He was a small, nearly burnt-out candle fighting to stay lit in a winter storm.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Melita - 04-06-2025
She watched, observed, quiet ministrations contorting in the back of her mind. Most were frustrations, for the way he edged around like they were walking on glass, for the lengthy amount of time he simply seemed resigned to not saying a word. She almost felt the need to fill the silence with something – but it likely would’ve come out searing and seething, so she tucked them all behind her teeth and merely narrowed her eyes again, flickering from Iskra to Goose, and back again as the meal was prepared.
Not in a joking mood, she briefly snorted at the dog’s lack of packing abilities, then took hold of the offered plate. [say]“Thanks,”[/say] came out, and her stomach growled again – then surveyed the situation as Iskra simply walked further and further away. Then the Honeybee broke apart pieces, opting for the toast first, munching away on the warm edges and the jam, eyes lowering so she could grant some to companions lingering around too.
So it was with surprise that her brow arched and went up a little quickly at the you’re right portions – because she typically wasn’t, and many liked to remind her. But once more she fell into the hushed and soundless, faint and muffled portions of herself, though one might argue that could potentially signal a more dangerous form of Melita. In lieu of any pending threat, however, she simply ate and listened, chiseling away all those distinctions he finally deigned to explain.
He was correct, in a way. She’d never thought herself unworthy of happiness, because of all the things she’d lost. She’d felt inadequate, ashamed, weak, useless, and pathetic instead – as if it had been her fault all along for her mother’s sacrifice, for her sister’s demise, for her own ridiculous death. Hordes more in between; but then she’d locked her jaws around promises to herself, for strength that she required, needed, in order to carry on. To be more than worthless.
The Honeybee swallowed down a portion of the bread and contemplated the words threatening over her mouth – to actually give something other than the impulses hovering within. [say]“I’m sorry that happened to you,”[/say] she started, trying to signify the generous outpouring without making more of a mess. [say]“We all grieve differently.” [/say]Her anguish had been like ashes; all dust and burnt and gone but never quite far away; on the edges of her eyes, back in a realm that had promised everything. [say]“But I doubt those you lost would’ve wanted you to mourn them until you were nothing. That’s not a way to live.”[/say] She shrugged her shoulders; figuring that was the only advice and solace she could give. [say]“So yeah – I do understand that. And it changes you. But you either sink or swim here.”[/say] And she wasn’t sure what he’d chosen now. But barely existing had never been Melita’s essence.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Iskra - 04-06-2025
His attempt to shove her away again failed. Like a ghost, it passed through her and left him stumbling in its wake. He blinked. Was she actually a ghost? Was he arguing with himself, out loud this time, like someone whose sanity had finally unraveled? Where he'd expected a wildfire to roar in retaliation for his match strike, he only found the calm fortitude of an anchor upon which he could lean all his weight. Instead of laughter or scorn, instead of agreement that he was a miserable waste, she wrapped him in the understanding he was so adamant she wouldn't have. That dying flame burned a bit brighter for it.
The pressure of his teeth against each other eased; the fragile anger roused from his well-protected depths receding. He couldn't help it then, and laughed genuinely. The final uncoiling of the tension like a wave of euphoria that washed everything from him, even his sensibilities, what little of those still remained anyway. He hung his head as he tried to quiet the sound, his shoulders still shaking with the effort. He'd rather that than end up weeping at her feet. [say]"Thank you..."[/say] he managed to get out, soft and solemn despite the grin he was wrestling from his face. [say]"It's been so long that I've tried to hide all that from you. To be better than that, by the time we met again, but I just keep sinking into it each time I start to come alive again."[/say] When he finally looked at her again, there was a genuine fear that gripped him. A fear that he would do so again; that these layers of scar tissue finally settling over the wound he'd borne for years would rip free before it had closed up and he would be hurt all over again.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Melita - 04-07-2025
Unaware of the intention behind the motions, the words, she just waited – one brow arching, teeth biting against the toast. There were times for her fire and wrath, vengeful and swift, incensed and without pause, but his grief hadn’t been one of those moments. Or at least, what she presumed – and it would likely only have served as another line drawn in the sand, or loam, between them. She’d learned, in some manners and experiences, that flames weren’t the answer to everything – sometimes far too consuming, leaving nothing in their wake.
Surely he stood for more than naught.
So Melita sat in the silence, waiting it all out instead of filling it with diatribes or empty threats. Instead, she pilfered through her bag and sought to amuse Goose with a demigod imprinted duck – this one had been designated to look like a piece of driftwood – and tossed it towards the dog. While Fangorn and Sila munched on their designated portion of eggs and toast, she persisted too, only drawing her attention back to him on his laughter. Brows furrowing, uncertain what had inspired the sound, her head jerked towards him again. [say]“Why would you try to hide it? You know how many I’ve lost.”[/say] She wouldn’t have shamed or tormented him. She might’ve shown him other things to do besides wallow – but he’d chosen the marked path and shoved himself into thorns. [say]"I wouldn't have held any of that against you."[/say]
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Iskra - 04-08-2025
Having licked most of the egg from its shell, Goose lay among its remnants, watching the back and forth between the pair. Iskra's rising heart rate caught the dog's attention, but while it might normally signal his rise to stand beside the man, he remained, his wet nose merely twitching. In healing, there is often pain. And ducks. As Melita tossed the driftwood mallard, Goose watched it, all the way up until it struck him gently on his forehead. Unbothered, he tilted his head to look at it as it softly bounced to a halt near him. Just the very tip of his tail wagged for a moment, then he lunched for it, grasping it eagerly in his teeth. It made an extremely satisfying squeak and hiss of air as he pressed it against his gums. Happily, Goose rolled it between his paws and his mouth, grumbling and snorting as he played with his gift.
Iskra spared a glance at the dog and his antics. He couldn't quite find the smile again yet, but his heart swelled at the sight of the contented mongrel, even more so that it was by Melita's hand. He'd been missing moments like this all this time, and for what? For his foolishness was all. As she spoke once more, unruffled, he looked back upon her, the sounds of Goose's joy fading into idle background noise. He was still on his log, but it felt like he was gradually floating away from it, drifting in a wash of nerves. He tapped his foot, attempting to ground himself, and anxiously took another bite of his toast. He just needed the forced action, something for his body to do so that the fear could not keep crawling out so freely. [say]"Because... look at you."[/say] he said with a rasp, his throat dry from toast and unspent emotion. [say]"As you said, you've lost too, and yet you did not become... this."[/say] He exhaled swiftly, the sound a huff, a defeat. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. His foot tapped again. [say]"You've been strong this whole time. I didn't think—I mean why would you—how could you..."[/say] His plate felt so damn heavy. [say]"I'm not worth your time. Not like this."[/say] He was a weight when she was meant to fly. Once, long ago, he'd been able to fly with her, been a warm breeze to help lift her, but not now.
RE: Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done - Melita - 04-09-2025
The lightest bloom of amusement peeked over her mouth the moment Goose snagged at the duck – though it seemed to dissipate just as rapidly as Iskra began maneuvering around again, starting back on his melancholic voyage. Her brows furrowed briefly, and she broke off more of the food, before grabbing at multiple canteens and tossing him one – fighting the urgency to roll her eyes. Instead, she shrugged, not giving into the weight of being of the utmost caliber. [say]“You just haven’t seen the not-so-strong moments.”[/say] She’d had her own wallowing long ago when her family died – save for Sunjata, and he was a whole other can of worms – or when she’d perished too. She simply didn’t let many see it, nor let it stop her from committing to her goals, ambitions, and purpose.
Maybe Iskra had simply forgotten what his was.
Then she snorted, loud and clear, at the last statement. [say]“I guess it’s a good thing you don’t determine how I spend my time then.” [/say]