[SE] who is by your side when the fire subsides

but that was then, and this is now

The mist is an old kind of silence, thick and aching. It clings like memory, curling into the folds of Remi’s coat, draping soft across his shoulders until even the warmth of movement seems muffled by it. Somewhere beneath his boots, the black sand of Svaturis Bay has faded into brittle grass and frostbitten earth, though the boundary between one and the other is lost now in the grey, not that he minds terribly.

The Family’s reach might’ve thinned for now, but peace was never something Remi expected to be permanent. Deimos had given more than his fair share—season after season—and though the Warden hadn’t asked for help, gods knew he had enough on his plate. So here Remi is: not summoned, not needed, and not about to let Halo stumble unguarded into LongNight’s waiting teeth.

A branch cracks beneath his boot, crisp as bone. Remi glances down at the scattered deadfall littering the hoarfrost, strands of silver grass poking like whiskers through the ice. He crouches, cold air sinking into his lungs, and gathers what he can from the tangled heap—limbs stripped by wind, bark worn pale by time.

The deadfall crunches beneath his gloves as he bends to gather it, frost flaking off brittle bark. He’s sorted three piles already—one for larger beams that might make the bones of a lean-to, one for dry kindling, one for everything in between. It's slow work, cold work, but honest.

Somewhere in the fog, something crunches.

Remi doesn’t reach for his claws just yet. But his eyes narrow, his curls already twisting into feathers with the edge of awareness, and the calm in him begins to settle into readiness. There are things that get lost in the mist, after all. And not all of them are trying to be found.

the bastion

Table by the wonderful SKY

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

The thing that crunched goes still as stone. It doesn't undo the reverberation of exposure that rattles across the fog, but the disguise remains secure, just a little askew across the fringes of detection. It remains like this for just long enough to be uncomfortable, each of them distantly aware of the other, the murk of frost all that keeps them separated. Then, at last, it comes.

A small, rubber duck rolls into Remi's vicinity with an uneven bounce. It has an image of driftwood in place of its usual yellow.

A snout soon slides in behind it, breath curling against black lips as the dog leans between his paws and peers expectantly at the toy. Goose glances up to Remi briefly, 'brows shifting with the motion, then back down to the duck. Then back to Remi. Then to the duck. A low, grumbling, tumbling whine rolls free as the husky licks at his nose and yawns.

Further back, Iskra sends a sharp whistle into the haze of the frostfields, lower lip pinching between his fingers to throw the shrill summons as far as he can manage. Goose responds with an impatient yip at Remi, head tilting further to one side and grinding into the snow with an obnoxious groan of rebuke. "G O O S E!" Iskra shouts, scanning the mist for a stupidly wagging tail and a pointed nose, an edge of panic creeping in, because this is not the first whistle or name he's cast out into the wasteland.

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS

but that was then, and this is now

The stillness that follows is the kind that gets under your skin. The kind that makes every muscle want to coil and every sense sharpen until you’re halfway to growing claws without realising it. Remi draws in a slow breath instead, grounding himself in the frost-crunch beneath his boots, in the familiar ache of cold on his cheeks. No need to turn into something massive and bristling just because the mist has decided to play tricks.

Then, the trick rolls right into him.

A small rubber duck bounces to a stop against his boot, its painted skin the colour of driftwood instead of the usual sunny yellow. For an absurd moment, he can only think of Melita—he’s been on the receiving end of enough Honeybee chaos to recognise the calling card.

Mel? he sends into the quiet, the question soft but touched with a flicker of amusement, wondering if she’s finally gone and gotten herself a shift.

The fog parts enough to reveal not Melita at all, but a husky with pale eyes, and an expression far too intent for the average stray. Remi blinks, surprise breaking across his face as the dog’s gaze bounces between him and the duck like they’re in on some joke together. Iskra’s voice cuts through the frost then, sharp and searching, the name Goose chased by a whistle with just enough worry in it to scrape the air thin. Ah. Not Melita, then—just a dog.

With a boyish grin, Remi stoops to retrieve the duck. "Well, I suppose you’re not the worst company I could have," he murmurs, thumb brushing the damp paint before he gives it a tentative squeeze, curious if it will squeak.

The sound, if it comes, is carried with his voice as he straightens and calls into the haze, "Over here!"

the bastion

Table by the wonderful SKY

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

The duck releases a shrill squeak in Remi's hands, which only elicits an eager and equally shrill response from Goose as he rises up from between his paws in expectation of a toss. His gaze remains fixated on the duck in hand, lip caught against a tooth as the lazy pant sharpens to a partially closed mouth, breath held for a beat as the world narrows entirely on the release of DD (driftwood duck).

At the returned shout from the mist, Iskra's step stutters a touch. Much as he's wanted Goose to talk back, in a language not his argumentative grumbles, he never has or will, and if he did, he'd sound a lot different than that. So Iskra had always imagined anyway, and so the put on voice he did for Goose said.

Surprised to discover someone else out here, it makes sense that his wayward hound found the one possible distraction around. Iskra trots towards the sound before he loses his bearings, shape breaking through the haze not long after. "Oh, good, you found him," he exhales with relief that he tries to keep from sounding nervous. Not that he really thought he'd lost Goose, but in the wilder edges of Halo, and void still abound, one can never be sure. "I hope he didn't bother you?" It rolls off with well earned practice, often having to apologize for one antic or another.

A pause then, as his gaze takes in the slow work Remi's been doing out here, a curious slant fitting into his 'brows. "You lost and need help making it back into town?" he offers, not sure why else anyone would willingly start to make camp out here other than someone who got turned around and gave up finding their way out. "Might seem like I don't know where I'm going," he waves a hand towards the dog as if that explains everything, "but I'm from Halo and trust me, Goose gets hungry enough he'll make sure we make it home."

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS

From somewhere behind you is the sound of ice yawning and creaking as if in a thaw, though it’s so subtle you think it must be coming from far away. Should you turn around you will see a pair of bright blue eyes peering at you from amidst a halo of white fur. Skittish but hungry, this little Frost Fox seems keen to see if you have any food you might toss its way.

---

You’ve encountered a Frost Fox. This counts as a creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements.

Frost Fox (uncommon/mythical) - After generations of ingesting small amounts of mageglass, these fox descendants have undergone magical mutations. Always cold to the touch and impervious to Halo’s freezing conditions, their fur always has a bit of frost clinging to it. Instead of yipping, their calls can be likened to the sound of ice creaking and cracking.

but that was then, and this is now

The dog’s eager stare pulls a grin out of Remi despite the frost biting at his face. Remi turns the duck in his hand once, then glances up as Iskra emerges from the mist. With a small shrug that suggests he’d rather not be responsible for letting Goose vanish again into the white-out, he tosses the toy back toward the man. "No, not at all," he assures, the words coloured with quiet amusement and wrapped up by his accent (which, would be a charming one for a dog to have, btw).

He straightens, brushing his palms together against the frost. The man’s wave and self-deprecation draw a chuckle from him, though Remi shakes his head at the thought of being lost. "Actually, I came out here on purpose," he admits, a hand ruffling distractedly through his curls before gesturing to the sorted piles of wood at his feet. "Deimos did so much to help these past few seasons with Starfall, I thought maybe I could do something nice for Halo in return."

The explanation is given simply, like it costs nothing to offer, before his mouth tilts wryly as nods at the bundles of deadfall he’s gathered. "The idea was to use these to make small lean-tos, places where someone could duck in out of the frost, maybe even keep a bit of dry firewood." His sea-glass green eyes shift back to Iskra then, his brows lifting as if genuinely curious. "I hope I’m not wrong in thinking people do tend to get lost out here?"

As he says it, the sound of ice creaking drifts from behind him, sharp enough to raise the hairs at the nape of his neck. He half-turns, eyes narrowing through the haze, and spots a pair of bright blue points glimmering like sapphires in the mist. White fur shivers into focus beneath them, frost clinging to every strand. Remi huffs softly under his breath, his stance relaxing as his gaze softens on the creature. "Seems we aren’t the only ones out here today."

the bastion

Table by the wonderful SKY

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

The duck lands in his hands with the faintest noise. Goose's focus is absolute, and Iskra's lips quirk as he chucks the duck back into the mist the way they'd come, trusting the mutt wouldn't find some other surprise camp to run off to. The paws are swift over the frost and the sleek hound is gone into the white.

"Oh," Iskra manages around the surprise of Remi willingly being out there. "Can't say many do that, from Halo or not" he laughs faintly, that being purposefully here. As Remi explains though, Iskra's smile creeps in easier, a nod offered to the thoughtful work. "That's kind of you," Iskra murmurs with genuine appreciation. "Seems like we all tend to get tied up fighting the Family or the void and forget we can also help each other in different ways." Plenty of weapons have been brandished for the sake of each other, but less often, a hand extended in offer like this. It might be small on the surface, but it's meaningful. "Halo is grateful." He might not speak for the city, but he is part of it, and he knows any would find appreciation in this offering.

"Unfortunately so," Iskra returns with a bit of a frown, regarding people getting lost here. "Often the vulnerable too," he admits, a touch sad, having happened upon a buried face a time or two, as have most Halovians at some point or another. They warn and teach, but children sometimes think they're impervious and drunks don't think much at all. Might have been him a time or two freezing out here if not for the dog. "Need help? Two hands makes quicker work, usually," he offers with a tilted smile, because there are definitely times that isn't true.

With Remi's attention so too goes Iskra's, each of them beckoned by the crackle of ice splitting. "You're quite popular," He chuckles as tension relents to pale fur and frigid eyes. "Maybe there's more life teeming here than it seems, and the mist just makes it feel so lonely." Could be he passed by an ursur numerous times on the way here and had been none the wiser, though he suspects Goose would have said something (with Remi's accent, perhaps). Reaching into his pocket for some of the treats he keeps on hand for his errant beast, Iskra chucks them towards the fox, giving it enough satisfaction to retreat before Goose returns and gives stupid chase.

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS

but that was then, and this is now

Remi’s brows lift high as he nods in emphatic agreement. "Unfortunately, it is all too easy to forget the little things when your life is literally being threatened," he says, voice soft with rueful honesty. Still, the weight of it eases as he flashes a grin and shrugs. "But Deimos has done much for me over the years, and I can abide this amount of cold in small doses."

At Iskra’s offer, the Bastion tilts his head, a flicker of surprise giving way to warmth. For all his strength and the preternatural help of his shifting body, more hands are almost always better. He gestures toward the scattered piles. "I was just gathering up the brush I could find, but if you want to start setting them into lean-tos, that would be great." His mouth quirks as he laces his fingers together in demonstration, making the crude shape of an interlocked fence. "I hadn’t brought much in the way of supplies, but where I come from we built snake fences. The wood braces against itself that way, no rope or nails needed."

When Iskra teases about his popularity, Remi huffs out a dry laugh; popular was not an adjective normally associated with him, even at his best. He sidesteps neatly as Goose bolts past in pursuit of the fox, muttering, "Better him than me," as he narrowly avoids being clipped at the knees. Straightening again, he turns back with a touch more composure.

"My name is Remi," he offers, the R rolling with the lilt of the travelling tongue. "And you?"

the bastion

Table by the wonderful SKY

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

It's no surprise to hear Remi's appreciation of Deimos. The Sword might not be the most openly warm person in the world, but like a bear he has the warmth and the claws to offer to what he finds worth protecting, steadfast to Halo but just as sure with those he deems worthy. "Any friend of Deimos' is a friend of mine," Iskra offers easily, fond of the stoic and formidable man who has also helped him, in all the small and meaningful ways that being handed purpose and home manage.

Admittedly Iskra has more experience taking down wood and stripping it from what was once sturdy and living, a career of destruction that he prefers to label as something else. He's always open to learning how to build something though, hoping it might echo into the other parts of his life and allow him to hold something steady, to create instead of repeatedly dismantle relationships or thoughts into kindling. "Sure," Iskra offers after testing out the idea of snake fences by fitting his own gloved hands together, following suit with Remi as he focuses on memorizing the method. It almost sounds too easy, but he's skeptical that it's deceptively so. "Might have to grade my attempts," he suggests with a grin edging back in on the studious seriousness. "Can't say I've much practice with balancing things well." Hasn't had much practice trying though, and that's the part he's been working at lately.

With his toss of treats failing to escape Goose's return timing, the dog is off after the fox, and Iskra sighs heavily. The duck has been abandoned somewhere at his feet, and he kneels to pick it up, squeezing the squeak out of it like a summons. Barks drift through the mist, out of sight, but relenting as Iskra whistles. "Complete pain in my ass," Iskra complains, far too fond for it land true.

It perhaps should be surprising to him that he hasn't gotten the stranger's name or given his own until now, but the easy way he takes it in stride suggests it's a common occurrence for Goose's name to be the one that always gets learned first. "Iskra," he extends just as Goose trots back into view, gait a near satisfied strut, though the mohawk of his hackles still runs from shoulder to tail. Iskra tosses the duck back to him, a noisy pacifier to keep the mutt within sight now as Iskra sighs and turns to the work at hand.

Kneeling down with some of the gathered brush, he starts to try his hand at fitting them together as advised. "You've gotta let me buy you a drink in town when we're done," Iskra offers, assuming town is where Remi would be headed next, likely to see Deimos if he had to guess. Otherwise the Sword would never have known about the work done here in his name. "Something to warm us both after this."

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS

but that was then, and this is now

Remi chuckles under his breath at the careful way Iskra lines the branches together. "The balancing gets easier once you’ve got one section standing," he says, rolling a shoulder as if to acknowledge that patience is half the trick. "And if nothing else…" his grin tips wryly as he nudges a half-pile with his boot, "at least there will be a good cache of wood for someone to use if they do end up stuck out here." Even if not for a shelter, it could be used to build a stretcher, help with reinforcements, or even just to burn.

The familiar rhythm of banter between man and dog pulls a smirk out of him, Goose’s antics more grounding than distracting. Remi nods politely as Iskra offers his name, filing it away with the kind of attentiveness that suggests it won’t be forgotten.

When the invitation comes, he draws in a breath, eyes narrowing faintly against the chill as he exhales in a puff of white. There’s appreciation there in his expression, but also the faint shadow of calculation behind his gaze. "That is kind of you," he says sincerely, "but my husband will start to worry if I’m gone too long." A touch of fond exasperation softens his voice, the way it always does when Ronin edges into his thoughts. He doesn’t bother explaining further—that worry in this season often translates to something far more dangerous than fretting. Instead, he offers a small smile that warms the words.

"Another time, perhaps."

the bastion

Table by the wonderful SKY

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

Iskra laughs a bit at the silver lining Remi manages to find amongst the potential failure of his first snake fences. "That is true, but probably best to see your vision out in full," Iskra notes, but is relieved that the man won't begrudge the odd lean or two. For Iskra's part though, he intends to learn the idea in full, and he knows the shelter will provide quick and necessary relief for someone, and will be more noticeable than a pile collecting snow drifts.

A glance is given to Remi over his shoulder, hands stilling against the lean-to as he nods in understanding. It'd been little more than an easy offer, so the refusal doesn't strike with any weight one way or another. He will definitely be claiming that drink one way or another, Remi would have just been fine enough company, but then so is Goose. "Next time you're in town then," Iskra smiles easy, and like old friends saying they ought to catch up over coffee but have lost their past rhythm that'd make it easy to come by, the offer is given like a remark about the weather. If it comes to pass or not, it won't much bother him.

He straightens up after managing what seems to be a successful construction managed. "Alright," he says with a tilt of his head. "Seems like it'll hold." He sets into the pace of the work alongside Remi until the chill and the time chases them both into parting, a drink possibly in their futures.

[FIN]

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS