[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

He's sweltering in all his jackets and has slowly been stripping them off layer after layer as they sail. He's forgotten how nice it stays here, even during Deepfrost, even at the heart of it—not that the season is that far, yet. Goose would have preferred they stay in Halo, even for this time of year, but Iskra's grown tired of always seeing Mel swaddled head to toe in down and puff, and he knows better than to even beg for a visit this season anyway. He can make the travel trips this time.

The surf that sprays up around the sides of the Firecracker is cold, although it's gradually warming even as the sun starts to set, testament to the volcano glowing mad in the distance. Iskra leans against the rail, squinting over the sea. "So the best hot cocoa really is made from the boiling waters of Apopo, huh?" he asks again, skeptical as he glances over his shoulder to her. "I always thought that was just a fairytale." His expression says he still does, not quite sure if Mel is pulling his leg or not. Won't it be salty? he already asked, to which, salted caramel had been a rebuke he had no good answer for.

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 press of the sea salt Torchline wind brushed against her face, and she turned into its power and grace, let the sails flap and then extend with each passing thermal. It was glorious – and far more refreshing than the potent, lethal dose of Halo’s vengeful zephyrs. While Sila flew alongside, Fangorn had long since attached himself to her seat, since she was up and moving constantly with the rigging, adjusting as necessary.

She couldn’t quite remember the tall tale Iskra described, and she made a face towards the volcano, trying to recall where he might have heard such figments. Maybe a merchant was fucking with him. Or perhaps she had elapsed into some bullshit. The possibilities were there. “Mmmm, did I say that?” He had every right to be skeptical. It sounded like one of those things you only tried once (because it was disgusting or you were dead soon after). “Well, only one way to find out,” she winked, landing the skyship on a flatter part of the rolling hills. “Everyone off!” She called, snagging at her bag, and the thermos she’d purposefully kept hidden.

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

Her offhand response doesn't do a thing to soothe his doubt. If anything it knits tighter between his eyes, the scrunch of his 'brow deepening. Which, could be intentional on her part. "Yes," he scoffs, palm flopping a slap down on the ship rail with deflated incredulity. Well, fuck it, they were here, he's gonna try it one way or another at this point.

Apopo leers over the side of the rail, heat coming off like a tide all its own, delivering a flush to Iskra's skin. "How much is lava and how much is chocolate?" he wonders with a mutter as he hops off the ship. Goose very much refuses and slinks further against the deck. Iskra doesn't push him—the last thing he needs is a husky in heat stroke, or one in mischief quickly boiling over into danger.

The ground feels supple underfoot. It's so opposite of Halo, yet similar in the strangest of ways too. Mindful of his steps, Iskra sets out after Mel, head on a swivel as he takes in the unique sights. "I thought we were just grabbing water and staying on your ship?" he says as he picks a path after her. "Or is there a specific place here you know about?" Maybe the most legit tiki bar ever, for instance.

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

“Oh, you know, about half and half,” she gave a vague handwave, figuring she could double-down on the bullshit and trick associated with the stupid tale. She didn’t quite blame Goose for staying behind – but Fangorn and Sila followed along, used to the antics.

She shrugged her shoulders at the plan – because there really hadn’t been one – and she was far more prone to staying in these impulsive ends anyway. She tiptoed along the path, light and airy on the dark, volcanic soil, head glancing up every so often, as if striving to catch something in particular. “There’s a good spot up ahead. Thought you’d like it.” If not, they could head back to the ship, she supposed, then hover over a stretch of sea again.

But her careful strides brought them towards an area fully facing the wide stretch of the tides below – and a picturesque view of dotted islands combined and construed in the distance. Ships glowed under the beam of the sun, and there’d be some pink fins out there in the midst, bobbing around, hoping and searching for mischief. Starfall was still out there too, but with its empty vastness, she didn’t care quite as much. Eventually she’d wind her way there too – maybe see what all the danger had once held.

For now though, she grinned back at him. “Here good enough?”

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

It is not a surprise to him that she's been here before. A volcano seems like the most suitable place for Melita, all heat and spitting fire when upset, but stunning and gorgeous too. He's just glad they chose this season to come visit it, otherwise he's certain they'd combust on the spot. His curiosity is piqued in regards to the spot, imagining that perhaps she's set up some kind of headquarters here. Typically it's villains who go for the volcano angle, but if adulthood has taught him anything it's that you can find heroes and villains in anyone, sometimes in the same person.

As they step over cracked and magma-sealed ground, dark and unsteady with all its different layers and porous areas, resembling a hardened sponge, the spot comes into view. It's immediately breathtaking, which only deepens the more details he's able to capture. "Mel, you've been holding out!" he grins, excitement lacing his words easily. "This is awesome!" His heart will always be tugged for these Torchline treasures, nostalgic and rich with a warm sort of beauty that Halo could never really replicate. "Shouldn't have doubted you."

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

Unaware of Iskra’s musings about her potential headquarters or villain aspects, Melita hummed under her breath, already opening her bag to pull out two mugs; Fangorn spraying volcanic soil everywhere with his vines, and Sila rampaging overhead, gleeful in the expanse of molten terrain. Then she watched to gauge his reaction, brow arching as he seemed to enjoy it, rather than find it tiresome or too melancholic.

With a grin then, she passed over one of the containers. “Obviously,” she rarely even doubted herself – unless the occasion called for some true self-awareness. Which wasn’t today.

“Give me a sec and I’ll get us the water,” she snickered, pulling out the thermos from her bag. Truthfully, she’d long since filled the vessel with properly boiled water from her house, because no, even she wouldn’t be drinking lava adornments. But she could hold onto the ruse for as long as she dared, skipping back over to where some of the latent liquid ran in tiny streams and rivulets, rather than the lingering abyss nearby.

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 takes the offered container, peering into it as if already expecting the delicious drink to be there and waiting. Keeping the frown of disappointment that it's not at bay, his attention rises back to her as she slips away, her trick still hidden, a master at her craft as is only natural given her herald and innate affinity for bullshit. It's charming, really, especially when you're none the wiser as Iskra currently is.

"I'm still not sure this can compete with Halo hot cocoa," he tells her with that doubt edging back in. "Kinda has the market cornered for that." Unlike for other regions where cocoa might be a seasonal treat, it's a constant in Halo, and all that time has given everyone time to perfect their recipes and processes. He's partial to the peppermint flavored ones the most, but the peanut blend is also a nice touch. Lava however, certainly would be a new addition. It also is an excellent pair with liquor and has kept him warm many a day, in both temperature and alcohol heat.

He glances back towards the view, smile fitting back into place as he watches the encantados play in the surf. "Gods being out of the cold sure feels nice this time of year."

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

She rolled her eyes at the hot cocoa comment – for all of Halo’s…merits, Torchline had an ample surplus, but perhaps she was biased. Pretending to dip the thermos into the water, she held it there, blocking it from Iskra’s view with her crouched frame, humming under her breath, content to watch the searing liquid linger nearby, but never enter the already full container. “You could always come here for our parties during LongNight,” she shrugged – her home was mostly empty save for Fangorn, Sila, and herself, and if she wasn’t there, she’d be busy harassing the multitudes at the bonfires. “Does Halo do anything for fun during then?” Or maybe they just hunkered down – understandably so.

Rising from the edges, she shook the thermos, as if swishing it around and really exuding that lava-infused flavor, and made her way back over. Going back through her bag, she fished around until she produced three packets of the generic hot chocolate, but she’d snagged at a variety down by the markets. Each had different labels, from ‘Torchline Salted Caramel’ to ‘Peppermint Bark’ and ‘Butterbeer’. Holding them out to Iskra, she let him pick first.

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 tosses his gaze over his shoulder to her stooped form at the invitation she extends. Something brighter enters his features—he's well aware of the Torchline festivities and their appeal, but her suggesting he come, offering up her space and her time like that, it tugs on his chest. It's something simple and easy, but coming from her, it's special. "Yeah?" He rolls the cup over and over in his hands, putting some of the shy energy into it. "That's a good idea, I will." A smile bigger than he means to let it be grows away on his face as he imagines their LongNight near the shore.

The question she asks almost doesn't register over the runaway plans. "Huh?" he asks, delayed, distant stare on the cup he's still fiddling with. "Oh. Halo's LongNight?" He presses the thought like a hum between his lips, shrugging at the chilly reality which is nothing compared to the tropical dream with her. Also how would I know I have not been here for LongNight. "We always have a Deepfrost celebration with vendors and snowball fights, but LongNight isn't something I've really been part of it. Tend to just shack up with Goose and keep warm."

His attention lifts back to her when she returns from her collecting. With a bit of an ominous stare he watches the thermos toss back and forth in her hand, stomach churning in equal effort. Picking his mix like he's selecting his tarot card and praying it won't yield DEATH BY LAVA when it's read to him, Iskra plucks the peppermint package carefully. For all his skepticism, Mel is doing it too, so it must be alright, unless she's got some Demigod abilities she's forgotten about. Now that he thinks about it...can she heal? "If this actually ends up being good, I owe you one Firecracker cleaning." His voice is muffled around the packaging as he tears it with his teeth and sprinkles it into the cup, the only proper order of things before adding the hot liquid in.

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

Her brow arched at his comment, but she said nothing more, giving a wry grin indicating nothing and everything simultaneously. “Cool.” With that committed in her mind, she waited for the obvious answer – she wasn’t really surprised Halo didn’t exactly put out all the stops during LongNight. Maybe they all just got drunk at their own houses, rather than out in the open, amidst the constant snowfall. Eh. Food for thought for later. She’d keep the other tidbit in mind though, for future chaos and surprises.

Besides, she was occupied by the opportunity of trickery before her, as he seemed to summon up the courage, picking the peppermint bark. She smiled, devious and full of duplicity, while humming and making her selection, parsing her way through until she snagged at the butterbeer. Pouring the flavored powder into the cup, she then grabbed at the thermos, exemplifying all sorts of grandiose pretenses. “All right, here it goes,” and she tipped it over, permitting the (perfectly normal) water to flow through into hers, scorching and churning its way to the bottom, letting the aroma burst forth, vivid plumes wafting upwards even in the warmth of Torchline.

Then she did the same to his – letting it stir on its own as the hot liquid rushed within. “Let me know what you think,” as she blew on hers, thinking that would help to cool it off, before going to take a sip. “Gods, a cleaning would be lovely,” eyeballing the skyship and its rigging, granting another daring smile because she already knew the end result. “Even the cannons?”

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

It is, admittedly, a visual let down. He cranes his neck to watch the molten water rush in, but it looks as ordinary as any other that he's seen before. He'd not necessarily expected it to be red and lava-rich, or...he doesn't think so anyway. He knows they can't drink lava, but maybe there'd be some residual red glow to it or flames briefly igniting on the surface to mark the intense heat. "It does seem steamier," he remarks with all the frail hope of someone on a ghost tour trying to startle themselves at the faintest knock.

The aroma of chocolate enriched peppermint does keep his spirits from plummeting, earning a satisfied ahhh after a deep breath in. Like her, he sets about to blowing on his, and for all his practice and general aptitude for patience, he has earned many burned tongues. He's adamant not to today, and wills it with the knowledge that this is extra hot hot cocoa.

At her query, he glances from his steaming mug to her features, gaze set on the horizon where the Firecracker waits. He laughs a little, the steam billowing and then eddying around the exhale. "Yes, even the cannons. Aren't you supposed to clean those every time you use them?" He shakes his head, still certain she won't be right, and after some more blowing precariously takes his first sip. It's still hot, and he jerks back a bit from it, but it doesn't scald. He makes a thoughtful expression as he considers, tonguing the roof of his mouth as if analyzing intently. "Hmmm," is his first response, still caught up in deciphering this so called delicacy that tastes rather ordinary to him. He takes another blow and sip.

"I mean," he sighs, not quite able to express his disappointment. On the one hand, he's glad he's alive and also not contorted into strange faces over too much sea salt. On the other, this doesn't feel nearly special enough to be worth the trip, not that he's complaining about spending time with Mel. "It's good I guess, but not great. I think we could have made just as fine a batch in port."

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

Taking a sip herself and humming as the butterscotch flavor hit her tongue, she didn’t mind it one bit. But then again, she also didn’t have the Halovian palate for hot cocoa and all its potential decadence – though she had to hide the faint snort as he seemed almost disappointed by the result. An unfortunate side effect of the trick – she hadn’t yet mastered an ability to replicate the potential taste of lava and its waters. That he hadn’t caught on yet surprised her, but she kept it tucked in the back of her mind for future upheavals.

The lecture about her cannons instigated another childish roll to her eyes. “I do. Like, most of the time.” Though she was almost one hundred percent certain there had been some pop rocks added to the sanction, because there were some sticky pieces in there, tucked right against fire residue.

“Well, sorry it lacks the fancy Halo efforts,” she winked, not one bit apologetic in the least. Settling down upon the soil, she watched Sila fly and hover along the thermals, snatching at the patches of sea breeze, Fangorn plodding over towards her lap with a bundle of fertile loam in his viney clutches. “Eh. Port doesn’t have these views though.” Plus sometimes all the hustle, bustle, and noise wasn’t something she wanted to hear – not after every day of every year.

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

The response regarding the cannons does not inspire a lot of faith that she cleaned them the last time, meaning if he had to clean the Firecracker, he'd like be having to put in some real elbow grease. "Uh huh," teases with a sideways glance over the mug. Unfortunately, while he wouldn't call this his most favorite cocoa ever, it is more than drinkable, it's passable, it's good. He sighs heavily at that admittance, tilting his mug towards her a bit in an air toast as he nods to his defeat. "Welp," he drawls, steam moving around the voice as he sips slowly between, making sure one more time. "Guess I'll have to clean them for you then." Which would not become a habit if it could help it, either by avoiding any deals with her whatsoever or just betting better.

Despite the resignation of his defeat, he's wearing a faint smile, watching her over the brim of his beverage. She's splendidly framed by the view she brought them to admire, but there's no denying she's carrying a lot of the weight of that, and he's not so certain he'd find much beauty worth being here if she's not in it. "Well that's true," he admits, gaze still set on her as he says it before he slowly slides it out to the sea. "So is this your favorite view or you got a different place in Torchline you prefer? Or elsewhere?" With her skyship, she's got many options for sights.

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

A little shit by even the smallest of layers and gestures, his openness to willingly clean her ship, even amidst the trickery and deceit, warmed the vessels of her heart. “Mm. I could help, I suppose,” she waved with one of her free hand off into the distance, one of her bare feet intentionally poking at his calf. “Since it doesn’t quite meet your high standards.”

Wrapping her palms around the warm mug again, she glanced back into the horde of the sea, watching as the tide rolled in and Sila savored the moments. Favorite views changed, for she was as mercurial as the rest of Caido’s distinctive efforts to alter and change as days went by – but her minds rolled, sinking into the past and present. “I’ve got all kinds,” she started at first, head tilting, voice sincere rather than dipping into its usual flare for the dramatic or pettiness. “Flying over Aumakua,” where her house was tucked within the cliffside, over the lighthouse and amidst the stark outreach of capricious, salty sea winds. “When we used to take the boats out along the harbor at sunset,” younger, not so full of regret yet - more memories tucked into her chest, secretive, furtive, until now, figuring he could have them again. “Crimson Cataract in the Greatwood,” where the fire-red hues unfurled but didn’t chisel into blood. “Some parts of Halo are pretty,” came along an admittance with a wrinkle to her nose. “What about you?”

Melita

of both beauty and battle cries