You're made to make it out again

stars in the skin

She winked at the whistle of approval, before placing that back within her clutches too, having utilized it to whittle proportions down on the gator. “Thanks! Ludo made it,” and then she watched Colt try to measure similar forces once more. This arrow also sank into the tough exterior, and with it half-blinded and stumbling around the muck in agony and rage, it seemed to be a sitting duck – just…a formidable, enduring one.

Humming under her breath, she lashed out with another bout of cannon fire, ripping further into its midst as its outcry came spitting and sputtering outwards. Colt’s understanding of her uncle’s predicament made the demigod’s nose wrinkle, because while she hadn’t had the same experiences, she’d been there throughout each and every fuckin’ tumultuous end. “I think it just sucks all the way around,” she offered instead of the inquiry behind her teeth about Vesper (had they been involved?), letting it all go for the sake of keeping some stability in the madness of shooting allogators and griping about her family. That he shouldn’t have committed the semblances with Ru in the first place reared through her mind, but that didn’t matter either – it’d already been done and crumbled and withered and decayed.

Gossiping was more her style currently anyway, and her face scrunched up oddly at the notions of Sohalia and Zavien together, and the lengths in which shit had hit the fan. The bottom line of semblances though, with who said what, had her snorting and shaking her head. “I see – just wanted to be a snake in the grass for the sake of it. Even after offering her all kinds, and never forcing her to take it.” Rolling her eyes, she watched as the gator ran headlong into a tree, grumbling all the while. “It’s too bad you’ve lost out on them, but then again, doesn’t sound much of a loss to me.” If the Luminary was already lying, there would’ve been no way to trust her on any council.

Allogator: 667/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

Gonna show him what little girls are made of — gunpowder and lead

Sucking all the way around does seem to be the way of things. The remark earns a pull to Colt's lips, because sometimes you have to laugh just so there's no room for anything else to creep in. She almost let it just then, and shakes it off easy now as arrows fly and gators thrash instead.

This one is just as durable the one she faced, although far stupider, getting caught in the jungle at most every turn and letting pain direct its anger at the ammunition sinking into it rather than the hands behind the weapons. She isn't complaining, and doesn't bother to study the beast for longer than watching her aim hit or not before she's pulling another arrow free. "Mm, something like that I guess, although I can't imagine why." The motive eludes her still, and she considers when she might have slighted the Limunary so for a moment. "I think she just got carried away talking shit," Colt shrugs instead, which is less diabolical but no less annoying in the end.

Her arrow snugs itself up against her bowstring and Colt takes aim, loosing another shot towards the gator. A laugh follows suit shortly after at Mel's quick summation. "No, I think no loss after all. Almost glad to know now than later, miserable as it's been with the now." Ripping off bandaids and all that. "I have enough helping hands for now anyway. Eventually maybe I'll find someone I can trust enough for the council, but for now, just me, myself, and I." Familiar, at least.

Colt

stars in the skin

Confetti and cannon fire burst along the allogator again, and it spun in the enchantments’ direction. Not swiftly, however, giving both of them ample time to find either higher ground or simply maneuver out of its path as it roared. Arrows diminished it once more, and it was almost as though they were cats playing with their food, but that wouldn’t have been much different from Melita’s usual hunting style.

Why Sohalia would talk shit about Colt seemed to be the underlying layer, but after everything they’d discussed within prior conversations, it might not have much mattered. Trust had been lost, fumbled, and extinguished on a single statement, and for all the offers the Accepted had unfurled, they’d been discarded and disregarded. Not worth pursuing. Not worth chasing. “Still dumb,” Melita remarked, nose wrinkling, shaking her head as she watched the confetti cling to the monster’s scaly skin. “And there’s plenty here in Caido that don’t have a council, and they seem to be running things fine.” Her uncle, the Warden in Halo, Flora for a little while…and though she could understand Colt would want some damned help in that hellhole, she might have enough to get her by and started, then go about her own business. “Or maybe someone will step up.”

Allogator: 552/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

Gonna show him what little girls are made of — gunpowder and lead

Another bright display of violence erupts, only for the beast to whip its great mouth back and forth in continued agony. Colt almost feels bad for it. Tough as its hide may be, this surely hurts, and it's no clean and quick death they can provide. Still, they're in too deep now.

Continuing to edge up the path and away from it, Colt nocks another arrow to her bow. She lines up the shot before releasing the sharpened tip its way, tracking it out of habit even as her focus returns to the Honeybee. "That is true. Just seems a daunting thing to do alone, and clearly I'm not always the most diplomatic." She has her moments, but like an old dog caught unaware, her teeth get used first sometimes, and that tends not to go over well.

"But could be I'll get into the seat and find it's not so bad as I'm imagining it to be. That tends to run things up larger than they deserve," she simpers faintly, "my imagination." For better or worse. "Either way, the answer remains much the same for now. Forge ahead and see." Which has carried her through plenty before. Glancing Mel's way, she nods. "What's next for you?"

Colt

stars in the skin

Given that Colt had already taken on such a bulk of advanced portions for the desert, Melita was tempted to argue that she was capable – but then the notions of diplomacy hit. She wrinkled her nose, slamming another bout of cannon fire alongside Colt’s arrows, and then pondered that particular dilemma. “I mean, we can all learn new tricks…,” though the Honeybee didn’t think she’d ever master that skill (nor try). “All those bumps are uh, learning curves,” or some shit like that. She shrugged though, letting it pass as the allogator came stomping towards them, then veered suddenly left.

Snorting, she shook her head and started her aim for the back of its head, but opted to respond first. Next for her? About to be plenty, unaware of it as she was currently. “I’m gonna go see Ludo about upgrading my cannon magic,” because she’d like a little more firepower. “Then there’s LongNight so probably some water jousting. You should come see it – if you and Flora have mended things by then.”

Allogator: 437/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

Gonna show him what little girls are made of — gunpowder and lead

"Love learning." Colt's grin bites into her cheek, the sound of a laugh threaded faintly into the phrase. Seems there's always a lesson on the horizon, some of them familiar, if maybe in a different shape—plenty were identical, trying their damndest to finally teach her. She is not opposed to the pursuit of knowledge, but damn grandpa she's tired. Sometimes it'd ben nice to feel like you know your shit for longer than a stride or two before life knocks you over again.

As more ammunition sinks into the gator and it flips hard to the left, snapping and twisting with rancor, Colt reaches for another arrow. She thinks she can see where it's wearing down more, though it's still an impressive, hulking thing before them that she's mindful to maintain distance from. "Yeah, then we could kill these suckers faster," Colt agrees with the decision, also fond of more firepower where most things are considered. Her arrow seats itself on the bowstring, steps pausing for a moment as she pulls back and aims down the sights of her arm, one eye pinched shut for focus. She breathes in, then out slow, and releases, her sharpened arrow sailing towards the beast's open maw.

"Water...jousting?" Colt repeats as she lowers her bow, other eye popping open and both turning to blink at Mel. She repeated it just to try out the two words together, then laughs faintly. "That honestly sounds like it'd be well worth the watch, but I did make a deal with Thorn last Longnight to spend this one with him, in King's End." Of course, that had been when she had her own house not too far from his. A bit of a larger ordeal for her now that she's in Hak Etme. "Although, we made that deal before I left, and I can't share a room with him since he'll be quite busy doing work much of the time, but I'll figure it out when I get there. Not often I get to see him now so I'll make the best of things to ensure I can." Also, spending the darkness in a very wild land feels less appealing than listening to Thorn fuck someone's brains out to be honest.

Colt

stars in the skin

Melita nearly mentioned Colt could do the same, but then having learned from past intervals, buttoned her lips quickly; the woman probably had more than enough to do for her regional shit, and then could work more on her own things. While the Accepted had done well in so many of the previous intervals and attacks, something must’ve thrown her off on this one – because no sooner had she snapped the arrow into attack mode, did the thing veer swiftly off to the right, away from the careening gator.

Sighing, Melita adjusted her stance, taking a few sharp strides away and utilizing the depths of range from her incantations to draw another display of cannon fire and confetti. It surged and snagged back at the monster, but gods damned there seemed to be no end to this thing. Just full of arrow holes and confetti.

Colt didn’t seem to be on par with said water jousting, based on her surprise – not that Melita had ever heard of it before either, but she was eternally eager for chaos and stupidity, and when combined, found that to be a highlight of her day. “Ah, gotcha. Maybe next time.” Though the name Thorn rang a bell….hadn’t that been the guy she and Fangorn had haunted…

Probably best not to mention that.

Trying to steer the conversation to more Ludo-based ideas, she tilted her head. "Are you going to do uh...like sand races in the desert?"

Allogator: 366/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

Gonna show him what little girls are made of — gunpowder and lead

Her gaze narrows when she realizes her shot didn't land. She'd grown careless, it'd seem, and certainly had less stamina than the demigod. Stretching out her arm, alternating which held the bow so the other could shake away the climbing weariness of holding weaponry aloft and taut, Colt tried to reset herself for a moment.

She continues to move as she does so, glancing back the way she moves every once in a while to ensure it's still safe, not wanting to back herself into something with the thrashing gator before them. "Yeah, could be fun next year," Colt says with a smile, the shape of it not fully sealing the commitment, but instead holding the idea of it up to the light a bit to properly see it. Spending a week of darkness alongside people she doesn't know nearly as well is far less appealing than her current plans, and she's doubtful she'll manage to drag Thorn along with her.

The idea of sand races earns a swift turn of her head, brows lifting into the span of her hat. "Uh," she starts to say, suddenly aware by virtue of being asked that she might have to organize such things. She had some practice with the rodeo, but she knew that in and out, she knew fuck all about sand racing. "Well, maybe, someday. It seems a bit too hostile still for now." She steadies herself again with noticable progress towards removing hostility as she nocks another sharpened arrow to her bow. "Probably start with another rodeo, see how it fares in the desert. From there... maybe sand racing." She looses the ammunition towards the allogator. "Maybe make people jump camels or do glassmaking," she considers with a hum, not opposed to the idea the longer it settles in her, of celebrating and committing to revelry.

Colt

stars in the skin

The suggestion had been one of pure impulse and not much thought, a common Melita trait, so at the confusion, she wasn’t wholly surprised, and only mildly disappointed. What else did people do out in the desert anyway? All she’d ever committed to out in that particular sandy area was blowing things up.

Contemplating her next maneuver, the demigod opted to launch another elemental arrow, this time segmented with fire (because why not). It plunged directly into the beast’s spine, making another roar of fury embark as it twisted and turned, almost trying to roll upon itself to get the armament, and many others, dislodged. From there, she could watch as the Accepted’s did much the same, the accuracy improved, segmenting into its tail. Wholly unbothered by it all, she listened to the other semblances, hemming and hawing over the deadly landscape and its chaotic potential. “Oooh, jumping camels!” she exclaimed as another brilliant idea, pointing her finger at Colt as if this had been the most genius concoction. “What about like…catching landsharks? You could make them part of the rodeo!”

Allogator: 211/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

Gonna show him what little girls are made of — gunpowder and lead

As she says it, and Mel agrees, Colt considers for the first time if camels are even capable of jumping. If so, would their humps only serve as a launching ramp for the rider, and the course would merely prove to end in everyone sailing into the dust. Perhaps a distance competition then, not for the beast, but for the unseated people.

Grinning at the ridiculous idea as the gator continues to soak in their flurry of damage, Colt's already halfway to a laugh when the notion of catching landsharks breaks her full composure. "Would that be a rodeo or a blood bath?" she wonders instead, shaking her head as she tries to imagine anyone surviving being bucked (what would it even be called in that case, surely sharks don't buck?) off a landshark, much less anyone keeping their life during the live capture of it. "I'll take it into consideration," she suggests, promptly throwing that idea away.

She reaches back for another arrow, setting it to bow string and aiming towards the allogator once more, wondering if she could create a design on its back with all her arrowshafts. More inclined to finish this than fuck around, she doesn't aim for any particular spot, just its hide as her arrow unfurls towards it. "Torchline could always have people riding water sharks," she counters, brow raised.

Colt

stars in the skin

My gods why wouldn’t this thing just die already? Melita frowned as it remained stumbling and bumbling around – blasting off another round of cannon fire at its hind as it seemed to have lost the will to even find them. “Ummm, both?” she grinned back at Colt over her shoulder; for the Honeybee wouldn’t have problem with either. “You know people try to ride all kinds of monsters.” The Accepted could take that in any way she pleased.

The tone of such a suggestion seemed to be negative, so Melita rolled her eyes, wondering why everyone was always so concerned about public safety. “Well, we have the dolphins already. Why not echo sharks too? Or hell, ghost whales.” Because they ate people – she’d know personally. At this point the demigod would aim to outdo ideas by sheer lunacy. But then Colt’s arrow segmented straight into the beast’s hide, so that it resembled a pin cushion. “Gods. We’re gonna have to use this thing for something.”

Allogator: 99/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

Gonna show him what little girls are made of — gunpowder and lead

Colt would not openly tell Melita told you so, but the weary drag of her arm as she lowers her bow after her latest shot is a solid reminder that she never wants to fuck with these tanky gators again if she can help it. If she were less stubborn, she would have just run back up to the skyship and hoped Melita eventually got bored enough to join her and they could sail away, leaving the thing injured surely, but also ensuring they'd not be exhausted by hammering it. Unfortunately, Colt is stubborn, and so is Mel, and so is the gator.

An unkind snort precedes the cutting laugh that escapes Colt shortly thereafter. All exhaustion is momentarily forgotten as her body folds with the humor, eyes darting helplessly to Mel. She's immediately embarrassed by the sound and claps her free hand over her mouth, trying to stifle herself, but this only serves to make her laugh harder. "Come now, not all men are monsters, she manages to eke out, her tone weakened by residual flutters of amusement. Whether Mel meant it that way or not, that's the direction Colt more than happily ran with it.

Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Colt sighs, contented as she reaches back for another arrow. Fitting it to her string, once more she pulls back, takes aim, and looses it towards the allogator. "Mm, why not a chariot of eels," she throws in, all semblance of composure and reality long lost by this point. "Surfing on sealions..." the opportunities could be endless, truly.

"The last one we killed, I turned some of its hide and teeth into baby rattles for Remi and Ronin's new kids." She shrugs, not sure they'd need another set. "Could make some nice belts and boots."

Colt

stars in the skin

Melita snickered at the response, allowing the bit of humor to roll through the otherwise outlandish and befuddling position they were in. “Hey, I didn’t say that,” but she winked, leaving Colt to continue weaving those threads if she so chose. It was nice to see the other woman amused and laughing again - rather than grumpy and acerbic and strained at the seams. As the Accepted pinned another arrow into its throat, the thing only gurgled and groaned, and the Honeybee knew the end was near. All thoughts of chariots with eels and sea lion surfing was gone when she knew she could just finish the job here and now, and with another lob of her confetti cannon, the damned creature was finally demolished.

“Fuck sake,” she uttered, giving it a light tap with her toe as she came in closer, glancing at the array of arrows. “Well, after we let it stop being a pincushion anyway,” and she laughed again, let the merry sound of relief and finality toil through her. “Help me load it up and we can go?” It’d take more strength, heaving, and probably some rigged pulley system, but with companions and an allogator loaded up, they’d be able to leave the scene.

[FIN]

Melita

and fire, iron, scales