[SE] the door to any grace is very little, very ordinary

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Melita let out a long, long sigh as she crouched down to pick up another bottle, remainders and reminders of LongNight’s bonfire and dolphin escapades, which seemed like lifetimes ago now. Of course, it wasn’t so much the notion of grabbing at the empty refuse, so much as the culmination of events spiraling around her lately. “So, I did talk to Safrin. If it weren’t for Ronin, I’d probably be cursed,” she offered haphazardly to Flora, talking with her hands, mind already conjuring a gift basket full of alcohol for the White Knight and some other goodies tucked within. “But she said Ludo’s probably in the jungle. I’ll send another letter out to all the leaders again, but I wanted to tell you first.”

Dusting her palms together, she narrowed her eyes, glancing over the horizon and the sea, tucking a shudder from the cooler breeze into her garments, trying to remember everything else. “Something about the DreamWalker too. Do you remember anything about that?” It’d been years ago, and those involved gone or slain.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Flora reaches for a bottle at nearly the same moment Melita does, fingers closing around its salt-fogged neck before she straightens and tosses it onto the plastic sled dragging behind her through the sand. It lands among the others with a hollow clatter, jostling the collection Spice has been loosely contributing to whenever the little dragon happens to notice something shiny beneath the driftwood. Glancing toward Mel, Flora’s brows rise before her expression folds into a comical wince, one shoulder creeping toward her ear.

"Yeaaaah, you’ve gotta be... uh, tactful when you’re talking to her." The word comes carefully, like there are several sharper and considerably less diplomatic alternatives pressing against the back of Flora’s teeth. She lets them stay there, nudging the sled forward with her heel instead before Melita’s next piece of information catches properly. "The jungle?" she repeats, head tilting. Still, the fact that Melita has come to her first warms something beneath Flora’s ribs, and her expression softens into a quick, genuine smile. She nods, humming a quiet, thanks," under her breath before bending to retrieve another bottle from where it has settled crookedly in the sand.

The question about the DreamWalker stops her halfway upright. Flora remains there with one hand braced against her thigh, closing one eye as though cutting her available vision in half might somehow leave more room for remembering. "Uhhh, I remember Hadama saying something about it?" Her lips purse while she searches backward through years of conversations, rumours, and crises that had all seemed terribly important until the next one arrived. "This god thing they all killed in the jungle?"

Her brows lift as the memory finally finds her, dawning bright enough to pull her fully upright. "Oh! Actually, I totally have its antlers in my dining room." Flora gives a small shrug, as though keeping the remains of a dead jungle god beside the table is only marginally stranger than one of Mateo's vases of deadly flowers. "I bought them from the Merchant’s Guild and always meant to do something with them."

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Fangorn hustled ahead, snagging at other garbage and cramming it into his mouth when Melita wasn’t looking. Sila hooted for Spice, perhaps to play amongst the cooler air and not amidst driftwood. At Flora’s advice though, Melita let out a long breath through puffed cheeks, as anyone who’d ever met her would know that tact wasn’t one of her characteristics. “I noticed…after I put my foot in my mouth a couple times.” And when Ronin was busy trying to diminish the flames she’d started. “I always avoided her because of my uncle, so,” letting that notion amble around, she picked at another bottle, this one defined by jagged edges and broken bits, placing it with considerable more care than previous intervals. 

At the question, she nodded, nose wrinkling, wondering if they’d been in the midst of it and simply hadn’t noticed. “Yeah. I think it has something to do with all that weird dream shit we had. Maybe the thing in the dream was the DreamWalker. Or another variant.” Given that it’d supposedly been slain. She wouldn’t be surprised if things came rising from the dead though; plenty of others, herself and Flora included, had done so with Ronin’s influence. “I don’t think anyone else involved with it is around anymore though,” so the questions would die and fade, unless Hadama had given her explicit information surrounding the thing.

She perked up at Flora’s addition though, eyes widening and hands pausing long enough for her to take in the full pledge of information. “Oh! Safrin had mentioned that too. Said they might be useful if we wanted to go digging through nightmares.” That it’d been décor in Flora’s house all along made her laugh though, shaking her head at important artifacts just rendered around a home. “I think after I talk to Mort again, maybe I’ll do just that.” Depending, perhaps, on what the Big God advised, or…the usual Melita flair of bounding in with boldness and determination, but not much else.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Spice glances up at Sila’s call, bottle forgotten so completely that it rolls back into the shallow groove she’d been worrying into the sand. With an eager chirrup, she springs into the air and wings toward the other dragon, leaving Flora to watch her go with an amused little shake of her head before turning back to Melita.

Flora chuckles at the admission, her grin widening as she lifts one shoulder in a loose shrug. "I always kind of treat Safrin like a cat." There’s affection in the comparison rather than disrespect, and Flora’s smile turns knowingly crooked as she reaches for the sled’s handle again. "You know, they’re always in control, and even when they’re being cute and nice, the claws can still come out." Her aqua eyes brighten as she glances sidelong at Melita. "And when they do, it’s only sometimes your fault."

She nudges the sled onward until another bottle catches the light, then bends to pluck it from the sand while Melita explains what Safrin had said about the antlers. "Oooh." Flora laughs as she straightens, tossing the bottle onto the pile with a rattle. "And here I’ve just been using them for ambience." Her grin turns sheepish beneath the ridiculousness of having apparently decorated her dining room with a potentially useful piece of nightmare-hunting equipment. "They glow," she adds, by way of explaination.

"Okay, cool. Well, I’ll go see Safrin about it and find out what she can make of them, then." The thought settles easily enough into place, though her nose wrinkles as soon as she considers Melita deliberately digging around inside nightmares. There are some things boldness and a weapon can solve beautifully, but dreams have always seemed far less obliging about where one is meant to stab them.

"It’s a shame Remi isn’t Ludo’s demigod anymore." Flora’s gaze drifts briefly toward the sea as she tries to remember the exact boundaries of what her dad can and can’t do these days, which is never particularly straightforward where demigods are concerned. "Dreams used to be his thing." She shrugs, fingers tightening around the sled’s rope as she begins pulling it forward again. "I don’t think he can do it anymore, although he and Kai used that dreamsand from the desert and apparently had a wild time."

A low-hanging tree nearby is heavy with strange fruit, its branches sagging beneath the weight of several Molten Pineapples clustered together. Their spiked skins glow faintly, heat shimmering in the air around them as they cling stubbornly to the limbs.

Now and again, one shifts, its stem cracking with a soft, ominous sound before dropping free. It hits the ground with a dull thud, splitting slightly as warmth seeps outward, scorching the earth beneath it. The others remain where they are, swaying gently, their glow pulsing as if in response.

The tree creaks quietly under the combined weight and heat, leaves curling at the edges. Whether more will fall or the cluster will remain intact is uncertain, but the warning is clear enough for those paying attention.

---

Molten Pineapples Areas Found: Torchline — Common These pineapples have adapted to Torchline's environment, developing a protective layer that withstands extreme temperatures. When harvested, their juicy, heat-resistant flesh is a favourite treat among the locals. Challenge Rating: Easy HP: 11 | To Hit: 2 | Dmg: 9 Movement: None SPECIAL SKILLS Culinary Favourite: prized for its flavour and resilience; Extended Freshness: resists spoilage longer than most fruit

TRAITS Heat-Resistant Flesh: remains fresh and juicy even in extreme temperatures; Tough Exterior: protective rind shields fruit from damage; Tropical Growth: thrives in Torchline’s warm, coastal climate ACTIONS Eating the fruit delivers a burst of sweet, tropical flavour with a faint warmth; the heat-resistant qualities make it refreshing even when eaten under direct sun, and overindulgence may cause mild stomach upset due to its richness.

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Sila, delighted to have an aerial and dragon companion, blew a breath of hot flames as they whisked around the sky, bronze palette soaring upwards thereafter, as if to invite Spice into another elemental chase. Fangorn, given his own predilections towards the ground, did no such thing and ate another bottlecap – though he did set his sights on the falling pineapples nearby.

The Honeybee couldn’t help but laugh at Flora’s admission though, suddenly picturing a massive star-cat with celestial claws batting at anyone who bothered. “Very apt,” she giggled, tapping on her chin and placing it in the back of her mind, in case there were other moments where she’d have to stray into the goddess’s orbit.

Snatching at another bottle, then some pairs of paper cups strewn beside one another, she listened to the ambient potential of said antlers. “Listen, I get it – think of all the stuff we loot sometimes,” she had several artifacts – like monstrous bones and weird scales – that could probably be something more than resting in her house or sitting at the bottom of her bag. She handwaved the notions away, not thinking Flora had to be even remotely sheepish. At least she’d tried using it for something.

Her willingness to strive and see what could be done with them made Melita grin further – suddenly either surprised by the charitable means or just overwhelmed. “Thank you. And if not, then, we’ll figure something else out.” She was never without some semblance of means – though usually it was firepower. “And let me know if you need help with it.”

That she hadn’t even discussed things with Remi yet inspired a grimace to follow – she’d been so damned busy with everything else. “Gods, I remember. I should talk to him. How do you guys do this shit all the time?” Between goals and quests and responsibilities and all kinds of other things clambering around a leader’s shoulders.

Chucking another container into her bag, her head tilted when it came to the dream sand iterations. “Oh? See I wasn’t sure what to do with it, or what it would show…” Danta mentioned pocket sand though. Her brows furrowed, fixed on a granule of sand before moving on. “Was it anything specific or just a bizarre dream?”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Spice answers Sila’s flames with a bright spray of ice, banking sharply through the mist she creates before chasing after the bronze dragon with an excited trill. Flora tips her head back long enough to watch the pale streak of her against the sky, smiling before another glint in the sand draws her attention down again.

"I wonder if the Merchant’s Guild can tell you what’s actually useful versus what’s just...for fun, you know?" Her nose wrinkles slightly as she drops another bottle onto the sled and gives the rope a tug. "Because now I’m wondering how many things around my house are secretly important." There are enough unusual bones, magical trinkets, and beautifully ominous objects scattered through Wildering House that the possibility doesn’t seem especially remote. Maybe she needs to invite someone over to appraise the place before another piece of décor turns out to be essential to saving the world.

"For sure," Flora agrees easily when Melita offers to help, though the question that follows pulls a sigh from her that sounds much lighter than it feels. "Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but considering the last plot time I was murdered, got stabbed, and then got broken up with for doing the wrong thing with Dahlia, I doubt I’m the poster child for handling this shit well." Her mouth twists into a dry little smile as she reaches for another cup, flattening it beneath her fingers before adding it to the growing pile.

At the question about the dream sand, Flora hums thoughtfully. "Oh, well, apparently Remi opened the bag and then...boom, he and Kai were dreaming." She lifts one hand, fingers spreading to illustrate the abruptness of it before letting it fall back to the sled’s rope. "He said it was like a lucid dream, so they could control everything, and Remi didn’t think they were in anyone’s dream other than each other’s." Her brows draw together as she considers it, unsure whether that makes the sand less alarming or considerably more so. "Which sounds kind of fun until you remember it’s mysterious nightmare sand from the desert, so..."

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

The ice caused Sila to screech and shriek in amusement, rather than any sign of danger, and she climbed higher in the sky, unfurling another bright streak of fire poised towards nothing in particular, before doing a fun twirl and aerial spin. Showing off, essentially, as the vampire gourd glutton feasted on the pineapples, unbothered as they burnt all the way down his short throat.

Melita was shaking her head at both companions, but afforded them their amusements, shielding her eyes from the sun as she thought over Flora’s inquiry. “That would make sense. I mean, they should know out of everyone, right?” Her mind also went to the variety of things she’d collected over the years, but simply hadn’t had the time, urgency, or dedication to utilize and change to something pragmatic in her arsenal. “Maybe they can hold an Inspect Your Loot Day.” With that thought, she brightened up considerably, humming a little under her breath and tossing a few random bits of confetti (oops) into her bag of garbage.

Which promptly ceased at Flora’s retinue and litany of colossal shitstorms of the past. Grimacing despite the Queen’s dry smile, she handwaved it all. “Fair enough.”

Dream sand was more compelling, at least in terms of curiosity and not prognosticating on how barely one held responsibility, and her head tilted, listening to the way it had all unraveled. Just opening the bag seemed to conduct bizarre interminglings of mind and matter, and Melita wasn’t sure if she was ready for another acid trip through her own brain. “Yeah see…the Peepholes one was weird enough. Perhaps I'll use it if I find someone to torture or something.”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Flora’s attention lifts as Spice immediately decides she can’t possibly let Sila have the sky to herself. The little dragon twists into a tight spiral, then throws herself through two quick loops with an icy trill that carries brightly over the beach, every movement exaggerated for the benefit of her new audience. Flora watches her for a moment with a helpless grin before looking back down at the sand and nudging another bottle toward the sled with the side of her foot.

"Yeah, I mean, short of having Safrin come in and walk through my house with me, I guess." The image makes her snicker, mostly because she can already imagine the goddess’s expression upon being asked to identify which pieces of Flora’s décor are merely pretty and which might someday be required to save someone from a nightmare. At Melita’s suggestion, though, her brows lift with genuine interest. "Honestly, that’s probably not a bad idea. I could make it a whole Torchline event, and then people could sell all the stuff they don’t want at the same time." An appraisal fair crossed with a market day sounds exactly chaotic enough to work, and Flora files it away with considerably more seriousness than she’d expected to give something called Inspect Your Loot Day.

Melita’s plans for the dream sand earn a grin rather than surprise, Flora bending to collect another cup while her friend predictably turns a potentially magical experience into an interrogation method. "Orrr," she begins, stretching the word as she straightens and lifting her brows with an innocent little shrug, "it could be a super cute date idea." She delivers it casually, fully aware that pushing too directly into Melita’s personal life is one of the fastest ways to make the Honeybee reach for either deflection or explosives. "You could have a picnic anywhere, and then suddenly you’re under a waterfall where you never get wet, or flying through the stars, or whatever."

Flora tosses the cup onto the sled before casting Melita a sideways glance, another loose shrug making the suggestion seem far less pointed than it is. "Cooould be pretty romantic."