[SE] [Training] to break the darkness with your light

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

“Isn’t Ludo the best?” Melita offered good-naturedly, as they stumbled into the Greenwing. While Iskra might eventually find fault in some portions of his impending quest, the raggedy herald’s representation had set the Honeybee into an avid and spirited mood, so much that she didn’t mind trying to skip amidst the absolute piles of clothing layered upon her form.

Drowning in one of Iskra’s jackets again, she surveyed the grounds, hand shielding her from the onslaught of the sun, as she peered over the most verdant area she’d ever seen of Halo – which was easy to do, given all the white – she found the whole section captivating. Here and there were little blossoms poking out from the ground, trickles of creek beds and streams running idealistically through…a content and quaint portion of an otherwise savage region. “This place is nice,” she mustered from behind her scarf, hand twirling the wooden portion of the ax in her hand. “I’ve never used one of these things though,” was an off-handed and casual mention – much preferring the precision of her daggers, staff, or bow.

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

ISKRA

"YEAH, I LIKED MEETING IT!" Iskra agreed with loud enthusiasm. After blundering through his departure with Ludo, it became clear to Iskra what little sprinkle of extra the tricky god had given him. No matter what he did, Iskra couldn't stop YELLING. He was certain his voice would go hoarse sooner than later, No matter what he tried though, keeping his mouth more shut, gritting his teeth, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, holding his throat... he couldn't stop it. He gave up trying to resist it. "I COULD DO WITHOUT THIS THOUGH," Iskra didn't gesture at anything or give further clarification, he felt that point was obvious. One thing was certain, he'd never make the mistake of asking Ludo to visit Halo again.

Despite the irritation rising in his throat, Iskra couldn't fight back the smile on his face as Mel saunted through his region with him, her assistance with his tasks a welcome one. She still insisted on layers of jackets, and he bit back a tease that perhaps she was becoming too much like her god. They had stopped by to gather Iskra's assortment of axes, nothing so great as what he was requesting from Ludo, but an array of his working tools to chop different types of wood or just because he liked the varied styles to try one blacksmith's model over another. When Mel picked one up and swung with a practiced ease that her words did not confirm, Iskra's 'brow raised in surprise. "NO?" he yelled with that disbelief. "IS DAGGERS YOUR NORM?" he shout-asked, having seen the ones she carried on her.

"I DON'T NORMALLY THROW MY AXES, BUT IT'S A FIGHTING STYLE THAT WOULD BE GOOD TO LEARN. KIND OF LIKE DAGGER THROWING—WATCH." He pulled at his beard, exasperated by his own volume, as he leaned down to grab an axe. He gripped it solidly in the middle of the handle, pulled his arm back behind his head with his elbow raised, and in a swift motion unfurled it like a catapult, sending the axe spinning towards the tree. The blade sunk into the wood with vicious hunger. "RELEASE SOONER THAN YOU THINK, RIGHT BEFORE THE TOP OF YOUR HEAD. THE WEIGHT OF THE AXE HEAD WILL CARRY IT." Release too soon and the axe would likely bounce handle first into the tree and hit the snow. Release too late and it'd fall short.

---

1/4 axe throwing training

I think I lost my mind a while ago
'Cause I've been seeing some ghosts
And I'd be lying if I told you I'm fine, but I lie

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

The first time Iskra had started yelling, for no apparent reason except the obvious, Melita had been amused. The second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. times, Melita was still amused. Her wry laughter beneath the scarf tucked against her mouth buoyed out regardless, through fabric and chicanery, until a cluster of birds were disturbed and flew outwards. “I don’t know. Very charming,” she added, then giggled again for the lie. “Probably won’t last forever.”

She didn’t even flinch at the litany of shouted inquiries, blinking and snorting while she twirled the ax around again. “Nah. I usually go for my staff, bow, and then daggers. But I have plenty of them on me.” All snuck and snug along her legs and thighs and wherever else she could fit them.

At least the instruction was easy to take and hear, and she took in the upcoming vehemence with regular aplomb; always an eager student when it came to new forms of violence. Her gaze swept over his movements and muscles, more than once (thank you very much for the free show), before the weapon turned, swiveled, and fell into the nearby timber with an audible echo. She offered a clap of her mitten-ed hands for the end result.

Figuring he ought to really worry about any axes flung nearby, Melita sauntered up, narrowing her eyes and adjusting her grip. Mimicking his own stance, she pulled her arm back above her head, elbow raised, and shot the damn thing. There was a lot of power behind it, and the armament went whipping through – straight into a nearby bush. Unbothered, as she sauntered off to retrieve it, she vaulted her next inquiry. “Hm. How do you adjust for accuracy though?”

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

ISKRA

He gave her an exasperated look that she'd dare to call this charming. Though, the continued chorus of her giggles was a sound he could easily keep on repeat. "I'D ALMOST THINK YOU LET ME CALL IT TO THE COLD ON PURPOSE JUST TO SEE WHAT IT'D DO." he accused her unseriously, shaking his head at the notion and wondering how long this truly would plague him. Goose was already overwhelmed by it and had fucked off somewhere to hide, much coaxing as he had tried.

"YOU'LL HAVE TO SHOW ME ONE OF THOSE WEAPONS SOME DAY," he offered with a smile, always ready to cement another future plan with her. If he always kept a new one scheduled, then maybe he wouldn't risk letting her slip away again. Of course then he might risk her getting sick of him, but here in this moment, shouting and laughing as axes barked at trees, that didn't really cross his mind.

"GOOD TRY," he encouraged as her axe assaulted some shrubbary. He picked up another axe and steadied its weight in his hand, testing a throw once or twice before fully unleashing it at the tree. This time his didn't sink in and instead bounced and fell. He shrugged. "PRACTICE. CONSISTENT RELEASE POINT. KEEP YOUR ELBOW TUCKED."

---

2/4 axe throwing

I think I lost my mind a while ago
'Cause I've been seeing some ghosts
And I'd be lying if I told you I'm fine, but I lie

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

At the accusation, she huffed, nearly puffing upwards like a pissed off bee.  “Woooooow. I’m not taking credit for that.” Then she stuck out of her tongue, childishly, and tried to concentrate on movements and motions, intending to pinpoint the consistent release idea, but agreement in the showing of all her weapons and armaments. “Yeah, sure. They’re pretty good.”

Retrieving the ax and rotating it through her hands again, her eyes narrowed, studious, but withheld a snort when his ax bounced off the tree and fell. She probably shouldn’t laugh when he’d been very patient with her own ridiculous miss.

“All right, here I go,” she repeated the maneuvers from before – taking the heeded advice. Tucking her elbow further in, she took a long deep breath, before unfurling the ax, listening as it hit against the timber with a loud crack, then bounded away, removing some bark in the process. “Ohohoho, okay, now we’re talking.” Tilting her head, returning to the tree so she could get it again, she hummed lightly, brain already contemplating tidier advantages. “It’d be nice to have one of these that just comes right back to you.” Much like Darkeye once had – no need to go back into the brink or monster nonsense to have the weapon in return.

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

ISKRA

He laughed loudly in response to her huff, returning fire with his own obstinate tongue and scrunched up features. But then she had an axe in hand again, and poking at her suddenly seemed like a terrible idea, so he settled for studious onlooker. Though it was difficult to trace all the lines of her amid the swarm of jackets, he could tell she carefully plotted out the draw of her arm, pulled in a purposeful breath, angled herself just so. The concentration skating across her face was no less lovely than her giddy bouts of tireless teasing, just shaped in a different manner, something that ran deeper and closer to the well-protected core of her. It was a moment to catch her a bit vulnerable, articulating a new challenge and the different angles she might use to cut it down, because she would, she always would find a way to carve out the problem in front of her—this strong, intense, capable woman who commanded life to kneel to her whims. Where he'd been defeated by it, she walked upon it's corpse time and time again, tragedy just the sole of her shoes. As that knife-cut stare of focus morphed into exalted victory, the ring of the axe against the tree echoing around the blossom of her success, her rather thought he could watch her conquer the world one weapon at a time.

"NICE!" he called out with a grin, sharing in her thrill, though he'd hardly say his instruction had much to do with it. She was already well trained, this tool just a new one to add to her litany of talents, he was just glad to be part of the discovery. He reached down for another, wider one he had in his assortment, trying to ascertain its different weight in his hand as she walked back from their target. "AGREED, THOUGH I DON'T MUCH EXPECT TO HURL MY GREATAXE." He wasn't sure how great Ludo would make it, but he suspected he'd need to strap it on his back rather than his belt. Inhaling as he lifted his arm once more, exhaling as he released it, Iskra's new axe sunk hungrily into the tree trunk, a split curling above the indent. He grinned with approval, walking over to collect the three he'd thrown. "BUT, IT WOULD BE NICE TO HAVE IT JUST APPEAR IN HAND WHEN I NEED IT, SO I WOULDN'T ALWAYS HAVE TO CARRY IT."

---

3/4

I think I lost my mind a while ago
'Cause I've been seeing some ghosts
And I'd be lying if I told you I'm fine, but I lie

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

A long breath went through her; not a sigh, but just some manner of relief that she could combine another skill into her repertoire of malicious talents. Her head tilted, listening to his intended, though shouted, whims. “Yeah? You’re just gonna hang on tight when fighting things?” She teased, nose wrinkling again as she watched him line up his shot. This one was far superior to the others, and her eyes widened, brows lifting, signified some manner of impression without giving it all completely away. She did a low whistle instead, not unlike a cat call, before advancing upon the target again.

“That would be cool. Kind of like my bow.” Which she could demonstrate later – her gaze had narrowed into a finer focus once more, hand holding the ax and twisting its dimensions around until it felt comfortable in her grasp. Then she lined herself up, repeating as she had before, and hurled the armament. There’d been a little more power behind it, perhaps to ensure the hit matched Iskra’s, and it bludgeoned off to the side with an audible crack in the bark before falling into the earth. “That any better?”

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

ISKRA

She meant it as a tease, but Iskra stilled, confusion evident as he turned to look at her more fully. "YEAH?" he answered as much as asked. "DO YOU JUST THROW ALL YOUR SHIT AROUND EVERYWHERE THE WHOLE TIME?" he asked, skeptical that she could be so accomplished while scattering the field with every manner of weapon and ammunition at her disposal, no different from her army of ducks.

Her whistle landed like a sip of water on a parched tongue. His smile beamed as he glanced back at her, winking. As her turn drew up, he watched her with intense focus, not the least of which was because he wanted to study her form for training guidance. Again, the mound of jacket made it hard to discern, and his gaze narrowed as her axe sailed, biting but not sinking against the tree. "GOOD," he said, but—"I CAN'T SEE YOUR ARM, LET ME TRY SOMETHING." He closed the distance between them, stepping behind her and proffering her a new axe. He wouldn't speak this close to her, wouldn't split her ears with his Ludo volume, so he guided diligently with his hands.

He set his palms against her upper arm, tilting it just so, then ran them up her forearm as he tilted at the elbow. He had to squish through the puff of outwear, grinning at her fucking ridiculous amount of layers. He finished by brushing across the curl of her fingers around the axe handle, thumb pressing against her wrist to bend it subtly. He leaned closer to the left, an exhale against her ear as he made sure there was safe enough room for her to take the shot, assuming she didn't drop the axe backwards on his foot. He lined up his sights with her as he lingered there, and slipped his hand free of her arm to give her the rein to throw.

---

4/4

I think I lost my mind a while ago
'Cause I've been seeing some ghosts
And I'd be lying if I told you I'm fine, but I lie

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

“My arrows, yeah,” she gave in return – though they were of the elemental variety, and typically did multitudes of damage in their wake. The staff, of course, stayed within her grasp as she swung it around and incapacitated enemies. The daggers were of their own volition at times, and utilized for what the situation called for (stabbing from close range or stabbing from afar).

The handiwork was an unexpected but not wholly bad enterprise. She fought over the age-old instincts to bristle at his touch, because that’d always been safer when in regards to almost anyone, and instead stayed still amidst the piles of fabric while he adjusted her frame. The brush of fingers and breath on her ear felt almost intentional, and she arched her brow and glinted at him with diligent side-eye, maybe watching and waiting for something else that didn’t come.

With a huff of her own breath and re-steadying herself, she loosened her shoulders, then flicked the ax – watching as it plunged deep into the timber and stayed there. “Well look at that,” she grinned, perhaps pretending it’d been all her. “I suppose you’re a decent teacher,” and she winked once more.

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries

ISKRA

He doesn't stop to consider at first what he's done. He's focused, intent on the axe and its end result, comfortable with her in a way that snapped back into place so easily despite the time, a jigsaw puzzle fitting together. It was a relief, to have quiet in his heart and just move, reaching for jacket folds and drifting along ridges of flame-touched tresses. It's only in that moment before the axe sails and sinks, that he caught the seaside scent of her and became distinctly aware of the minimal space he'd left between them. He withdrew as she bloomed, the certainty he had before fracturing under heavy doubts and old whispers winding insidiously through him.

The gap he reclaimed returned his voice, and he flashed her a grin back in return. "YOU'RE A FAST LEARNER, MY FIRST ATTEMPTS WERE SAD." He leaned down to gather the assorted axes back into the pack, dusting bark off one that was resistant to release. "LET'S HEAD BACK AND GET LUNCH," he offered, thinking of a spot in Snowcloak that served the best sandwiches.

Chopping my wood, but this tree’s too hard
Chopping my wood, my axe isn’t sharp
Chopping my wood, split through the heart and it tears me apart

mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth

“Probably experience with everything else,” she shrugged, though gave him a Cheshire grin that inferred masses of weaponry and armaments at her disposal. And though she would’ve gladly stayed out there all day chucking axes at inanimate objects, the cold still lingered, no matter how many layers she wore. “I suppooooose,” and she started to help gather the rest of their tools. “Thanks for the help,” was an extension regardless – granting him something more than her little mercurial efforts – before they waged their way back through snow (and the Firecracker - fully intent on blazing another path through the skies).

[FIN]

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries