[SE] And my head feels like la la la la, la la la la la

I was so cold and lost, nothing seemed to ring true
Then I whispered your name, that's when everything changed

The grin that breaks out at her could warn ships from rocks. "You at least need to be around to supervise," he agrees, fully intending to douse her along with her ship when the time comes. Perhaps they could even make a race out of it, or each take a half of the ship and judge which side is most sparkling by the end. A pity he's only got destructive elements and nothing that could add real polish, not unless soot counted. "My high standards are just looking out for you," he scoffs, his own foot sliding over to fight back with a swat at her toe, even at risk of jostling his cocoa over the lip.

Steaming chocolate wreathes the image of her in a mild haze, twisting to and fro as it floats up and dissipates. He smiles over the edge of the cup faintly as he watches her, each image she names popping to mind clearly, a lovely backdrop to place her in. "I did always love Aumakua," he hums thoughtfully, sipping deeper now as the drink's cooled to something more manageable. "And the harbor," he adds softer, quieter, the memory thickening his voice. It's bittersweet, recalling the past joys, though there's a melancholic stain he can't quite scrub away at each reminder, for all the things he dared to squander.

A low laugh slips free at her admittance of Halo though, and his gaze glitters with the sound long after it quiets back into a slurp of liquid dessert. "I always liked the Kuali'i Isles," he confesses, 'it was the best for hide and seek." That occasionally he'd ended up stranded and required rescuing is a part he seems to have forgotten in favor of all the won games. "The Outer Brambles in the Hollowed Grounds are lovely," he says with a fond smile, although he might be partial to them because they're a less cold place for him to work than actually appreciating the wooded islands. "The Greenwing never gets old," he admits of Halo and her beauty, because while he has grown to admire much of her treacherous wilderness, it's the life of the woods that has consistently healed him all this time. "Speaking of Halo, you should absolutely come see the new hot springs we built."

Love came out of the rain, talk about being saved
Suddenly I wanna live, more than I ever did

Iskra

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

“I’m not sure I’m much of a supervisor,” she hummed while sipping at her lava-free concoction, watching him from the rim of the mug. Instigator sure, though a part of her wanted to be around just to see him get soaking wet. Then she could stare and swoon to her heart’s content, while simultaneously not assisting with much of anything (despite her earlier statements – they could be retracted at any time; she’d given herself permission on mercurial impulses). Pondering over those possibilities, her eyes narrowed at his scoff, and then on reflex, she rebounded his swat with her heel.

She watched him carefully now though, not intending to invoke those more embittered memories. The Honeybee was never certain where to draw those lines – if he’d recovered from the deep wounds or if they were simply too far gone to be anything other than hollowed hulls and shells. While she rarely let the sorrows build in her ribs, he held his tightly like a noose, and she could seek to loosen those knots daily, but it would do them no good if he kept it taut and strained on every poignant note.

So when the platitude shifted, she let it go, gaze wandering back to the waves below and the softening surface of its rolling tide. “Are they?” She deigned to argue about the Grounds – finding nothing satisfactory about the world they’d been thrust into those years ago, surrounded by barriers and demons and ghosts when the night fell for what felt like an eternity. “I don’t go to the Grounds much anymore,” came on another shrug. “Though I did host a duck hunt there.” The grin plastered thereafter was smug and amused; very content in everything that had unfurled in the stupidity.

Her head tilted at the notions of the hot springs though – even if they carried Safrin’s name. The considerations ranged around a similar ‘wet Iskra’ theme, but a horde more notions before she’d readily agree. “But like – when you get out – do you just freeze to death? Run to the next closest building?”

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

I was so cold and lost, nothing seemed to ring true
Then I whispered your name, that's when everything changed

Admittedly, Iskra finds most wild places to be something worth looking at. Maybe it's all the time alone in the woods with only Goose and the hollow ring of trees falling, but there's a serenity to it that sharpens everything, even the danger, into something lovely. "I do still need to hit up their bars," he admits, when she says she doesn't go there often. "I was once touring each one in every region, to rate them all." Not entirely a purposeful endeavor, more of one he stumbled into, as he does any bar, whenever he'd be traveling out and about. The rating just fell into place once he started to notice.

Her admission to a duck hunt earns a laugh. "I imagine it's not real ducks you hunted?" Although he can guess at the answer, best not to assume. He tilts his head with the query, grinning before emptying his cup entirely and setting it aside. With his hands freed up, he leans back into them, folding them behind his head like a hammock of fingers as he angles his fall with all the precision a woodcutter can, so that his head ends up near her waist. He can catch glimpses of her like this as she continues to sit. "After you've been that hot, the cold air is actually refreshing. And you've got towels and robes plenty, and by the time all the heat leaves you, you're plenty dry and onto the next building." He wags and elbow aganst her to be annoying. "Guess you'll have to come and find out."

Love came out of the rain, talk about being saved
Suddenly I wanna live, more than I ever did

Iskra

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

Melita wasn’t one to ignore a bar, but they weren’t her first stop in any region either. She arched her brow at his remark, but said nothing on the forefront, hoping, maybe, that one day he wouldn’t just drink himself into stupors to forgo and forget. “Well, no, of course not,” she smirked instead, shaking her head with all the airs of someone who could do far more than hunt real ducks. “I had Fangorn and Sila place a lot of my leftover magic ducks around. And then let chaos ensue.” Of which all of them stepped into with quite an accord. “Just spreading the good word of Ludo,” with a wink to embellish the favor of mayhem, before resuming sipping at the warm contents of her mug.

His sudden nearness invoked and summoned quite a bit in her chest, many of which she didn’t name, and she found herself sorely tempted to run her fingers over muscles again. The elbow caught into her hip rebounded all those notions so that hers threatened nearness to his nose in retribution, huffing a little but never pledging to make full contact. “Sounds made up to me,” but it wasn’t a no. “But maybe. And if I freeze to death, I’ll haunt you for an eternity.”

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

I was so cold and lost, nothing seemed to ring true
Then I whispered your name, that's when everything changed

Of course he knows better than to poke the bear, but sometimes it's too irresistible to walk that dangerous ledge. Plus, she needs someone to give her shit as fair payback for all that she delivers to everyone else. Still, he does cringe away with a nervous laugh as her elbow looms over him, too close for comfort for a moment. "Deal," he agrees with a tilted grin, figuring maybe is about as good as he'd get. "I'd honestly love to have you as a ghost. You'd be even more spectacularly capable of mayhem than you are now. I'd never be bored again." Might never sleep again either, but if the threat is Melita eternally at his side, he'd take it.

"Speaking of," he says with a glance towards her features, requiring a bit of a tilt of his chin to his chest, something he can't hold for long. Otherwise his view is of the top of her head and the peripheral have of her side, which he leans his arm against without an irritating bounce now. "Have any upcoming plans for games and sports in the name of Ludo? Could always do a pie eating contest, winner finds the duck buried within first. Orrrr a musical chairs ducks?"

Love came out of the rain, talk about being saved
Suddenly I wanna live, more than I ever did

Iskra

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

Given how close she was to actually becoming a ghost, Melita didn’t let it simmer too long in her mind. Leaning more into the stupidity of the conversation, she huffed, enough to ensure the breath billowed back into his face. “Oh? Are you bored now?” A a dangerous provocation to dangle in front of a demigod of Ludo. Or Melita, in general.

Sipping at her mug while already contorting a whole series of plots, she still permitted the lean against her, brow arching at the inquiry. “I did do a duck duck goose round, but one of them was just a moody brat the whole time.” Which really took the fun out of it. She considered his other suggestions – pie eating contests could present a lot of shenanigans just in general, and musical chairs could become violent just on principle alone…

Though her grin became much more feral at the other prospects spinning through her mind. “What about an extreme sledding kind of event? We all start at the top of a hill and beat the shit out of each other on the way down.” And whoever could make it through the finish line without sent to an infirmary won.

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

I was so cold and lost, nothing seemed to ring true
Then I whispered your name, that's when everything changed

He should have known better than using the word bored. She hones in on it nearly as well as his mother had, the echo of that particular voice threatening him with chores—you got time to lean, you got time to clean. Although Melita's interference seems a more preferable risk than work, he still decides it's best to respond with caution. "It can get a bit monotonous hammering away at trees all day," he admits with a daring glance towards her. "Some ghost company then could be lovely." He has Goose, but the hound doesn't say much except to argue back at something Iskra has asked.

A low chuckle lifts at the image of her playing duck duck goose, a far wilder version he's certain than the sort young children are accustomed to. "Hopefully you tripped him or her," although knowing Mel he's positive she could be more inventive and sly about her punishments for spoil sports.

He rises back to a sit, dusting some of the debris off his back, shaking his head with a chuckle at her violently amusing idea. "Maybe staffs wrapped on both end in wads of fluffy cloth, a little less bloody." Might garner more eager participants than her sledding bloodbath, because even with healers, it still sounded painful. "We should head back, Goose might be beside himself by now," His smile towards her is thin with the very real excuse of his attached yet stubborn dog. Plus, his mug's empty and her's should be close, and he didn't particularly relish the idea of selling back at night with the chill creeping in at its worst. Grunting as he gets all the way back to his feet, he offers a hand to help her up if need be. "Thanks for the special cocoa, Mel. This was nice."

Love came out of the rain, talk about being saved
Suddenly I wanna live, more than I ever did

Iskra

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

The notions of ‘boredom’ wouldn’t have been met with chores on Melita’s end – but certainly some sort of dangerous plot concoction. Alas, Iskra would never know, her brow remaining arched but a snort flickering through instead of the maelstrom of ideas warring inside her brain. She didn’t think she’d be quite capable of an occupation like his; would’ve likely started a fire. If he was lucky (meaning the direct opposite), maybe one day he’d be hammering away at trees and there’d be someone inciting something else nearby. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she promised with a faint wrinkle of her nose and a wink.

As for her other victims amidst the duck duck goose game, she tapped on her chin, finishing off the remainer of her lava water free cocoa. “Pretty sure I blasted him with water,” came with a shrug; indifferent, but amused that it happened.

She snorted at the thought of wrapping cloths and less blood, who did he think she was, but took his hand nonetheless, rising from the ground and dusting off the soil and loam from her dress. “I’ll mull it over,” which meant she wouldn’t even consider it until well down the line and probably already in the middle of the terrifying game. “Sure. My treat.”

Chancing a glance at the impending sunset they wouldn’t be seeing, here anyway, she nodded, gathering up her companions. “All right, all aboard!” Unfurling the sails, maybe they’d be content with the pressing sun over the horizon as the wind whipped and flagged.

[FIN]

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries