[SE] it's a mud, mud world

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

Upon hearing Sunjata would need some assistance in King’s End (striving for festivals again after so long seemed either like a foolish errand or fun, and Melita didn’t mind either), she’d flown herself, Iskra, and the horde of companions over. But what greeted them wasn’t the usual flare of flower ambience and abundant greenery – merely endless pits of –

“Fucking mud everywhere,” she pouted, already hiking up the ends of her dress once landing and departing the Firecracker. Mood subsequently and efficiently damaged, another long sigh unfurled, and she watched as Fangorn hesitated, and Sila took off to the skies. Knotting ithe threads carefully, she grabbed a pair of boots from the storage instead, and figured with the humidity her hair was bound to be destroyed anyway, a long lost cause. Taking more than two steps, and spying the well in the distance, her nose wrinkled, launching a monstrous stride when the softened ground threatened to swallow and consume the wader whole. “This might be that memory mud bullshit,” she shouted back to Iskra. Not uncommon, but still carried the weight of many evocations – one distinct in the efforts of Fiat Lux. “One time it got ahold of my uncle and some others and fucking wrecked an entire festival. Like mass carnage.” She’d broken her leg. Aoife’s death. Ronin’s rampage towards the Grounds and the subsequent damage.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

When Iskra had grand plans of adventuring with her and cutting down foes left and right, he envisioned something more than...mud. He glances over the side of the Firecracker, gaze sweeping over the slop of terrain that this place had become. "Reminds me of the Feverlands," he grumbles, and as if wary, glances around for any signs of overly sized toads.

Better off for the ground than she is, he clambers down without a care, boots squelching into place. The suction is immediate, though the laces keep his shoes firmly about his foot, but the way the mud pulls back nips at his joints even, such is its grasp. Every other step proves to be effort, and however careful, each stride flicks it up and sends it spraying against his pants and around him.

Goose hops out of the ship with his usual reckless abandon, taking to the scene instantly. While he'd always prefer snow, the shift and the wet and the cool kiss of the mud begs him to wreck his pale coat. He flops down onto his side, back legs shoving him along, shoulder skimming over the wet ground and creating a wave of grime that folds up and over his side. He buries his snout into it, snuffling in utter delight. At that, Iskra grimaces deeply, a massive sigh puffing free. "At least someone is enjoying it," he reasons without any actual appreciation for it. "Absolute disaster," he mutters, shaking his head and trying to keep distance between him and the hound before Goose decides to shake and he's caught in the radius.

He finds his place near her, expression lifting with surprise as he glances over on the heels of her tale. "Mass carnage? From memory mud?" Maybe he's never been so involved with it, but he's dealt with memory snow. A nuisance, to be sure, but not one of the things he'd rank high on the danger list usually.

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

She grumbled in return about the Feverlands – incapable of recalling a fun time there. Unless it was beating the shit out of void nonsense. But even then, much less amusing and more of a potent chore. She bounded over a smaller portion, before landing in a thicker puddle of goop, and sighed, pondering over which range of power and demolition she should use.

Before then, however, there was Goose, and she watched as the canine glided amidst the mud as if in his most favorite place, and groaned loudly. “I just washed the ship,” she snarled at the dog. “You’re not getting back on there like that.” Maybe they could dunk him in some stream nearby. Grateful her companions had opted to be cautious around the stuff, she shook her head, but then raised it again, brow arching as Iskra questioned the event.

“Yeah so – it was huge, right,” as she widened the expanse of her hands, though she’d never be capable of showing the actual size. “My uncle was in his whale form inside it,” also stuck and ridiculous, but that was beside the point. “So it hit the walls and stuff that had been around the Fiat Lux festival, and well,” her nose wrinkled, the memory of it not something she’d tread upon in a long while. “There were a couple deaths, like Aoife, who was Ronin’s daughter, and a shit ton of injuries.”

Kicking at some of the muck that had slid over her boot, her eyes narrowed. “So I say we get rid of this shit.” At which she unleashed her wild magic, and a blast of water unfurled around her, straight into the brink.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

Goose did not heed her tone, likely assuming it was directed towards Iskra, or too enamoured with the sloppy ruin to care either way. "Oh yeah, I thought it looked cleaner than last I saw it," Iskra says, meaning of course, the ship, given the dog is the opposite. "Could always dump heaps of well water on him," Iskra suggests with a laugh, eying the landmark's namesake ahead. Maybe someone else had bathed here and that's what started all the mud. Although his guess is snowmelt and the rain he's seen roaming in storm clouds all over.

As she gives details to her tale and the scene takes shape, Iskra finds his lips thinning with newfound concern for the setting around them. "That fucking big?" he asks, as if trying to reassure himself he heard right, but he doesn't actually expect the answer to change. Least of all when her hands keep growing, his 'brows lifting up with them as though pulled along by an invisible string. "I didn't know it could get like that." The death is sobering, and anxiously Iskra calls out for Goose, trying to shy the dog away from the slop. Fortunately, the pup has taken to lying down in one section, happily panting, completely brown.

"Agreed," he mutters, and as she blasts water into it, which seems like the least ideal type advantage against mud, he reaches for his matchbook. Yanking flame to life with a sharp draw of the match head, his magic flares in response, and he winds a stream of flame out across the pathway to dry up the wet ground into something firmer.

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

At the suggestion, Melita glanced at the Dreaming Well, having never been quite convinced of its power or legends – or at least, uncertain if it even held water. “I could blast him with water too,” she grinned; a more dangerous proposition, and even less likely to occur, now that she’d already applied it once through the glory and chaos of her wild magic.

Her glance went down to the…sloppier mess now though, trying to figure out if that had worked, or simply thinned out the portions of muck and grime. She saw one portion that wasn’t as thick, and then figured it’d been her actions that had created the masterpiece. What if she ended up hitting it with lightning or something…

But then Iskra was asking more questions, and she huffed a little, wondering if hitting shit with her staff would be effective. “We have weird things here in Caido, and the more you wander around, the more bizarre shit you stumble on.” And some had a clear, uncanny way of manifesting into gargantuan heights; a common theme. “Like, did you ever hear about the giant chicken?” She’d only known of it because of Nate, and his newfound legendary status, after the ridiculous show.

Sighing, she grabbed hold of her staff thereafter, and smashed it directly into some of the more gelatinous mud around her. It seemed very dismayed by the prospect, and bubbled, burst, and shrunk a bit.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

Whether she's serious or not he laughs abruptly at the mere image of Goose being firehosed by her. "I think you would deeply wound his ego if you did that." And his trust along with it. Her water after all, is a cannon, not to mention Goose is already affronted by the idea of baths, much less ones blasted at him in full force.

He doesn't see behind him that some of the mud they've begun to assault is moving. It's slow, but persistent, wriggling towards him like vengeful Jell-O. All the while his flame doesn't relent, cutting in an arc before him, mud shrinking and curling away from the heat as it began to harden and crack into burnt dirt. It had the effect of crème Brule, a hard shell on top, but lingering pudding beneath. He continued to blast into it, trying to hit the layers beneath, as she talked.

"No?" he laughs, certain she's joking now. "What, did it eat someone?" he jeers, picturing a violent ba-gawk right before it pecks someone to smithereens. He goes to take a step forward, but finds his leg firmly held, the memory mud that crept up behind him rooting him to place as it began to gather up and around his leg. "What the hell?" he demands, swatting at it with his hand, it's body swaying to and fro and attempting to latch onto his offending fingers in response.

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

Mulling her mind back over to the chicken, she tapped her chin while hitting the mud bluntly with her staff, watching as it seemed to fracture away from her, at the very least. “I don’t think so. It was like twenty feet or something like that,” the rumors could have exaggerated the whole ordeal. “Heading for Haulani,” waving her hand in the direction of Torchline in general, like this was a usual circumstance. “Pretty sure Nate tried to ride it…,” was a brief murmur, but then she trailed off with the story, glancing back Iskra’s way as he started yelping.

Rolling her eyes, because he really was going to have to get used to this sort of nonsense, she bee-bopped her way over, casting her weapon into the mud with regular aplomb. “Set it on fire,” she mentioned, before reaching his side and tapping lightly on his shoulder (for reasons soon to follow), and moving her staff to swing at the portions clinging to his leg – and not Iskra himself.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

Her tale unfurls less joke than reality, each detail crafting it into view behind his eyes. "So not a hungry, killer chicken, just one trying to cross Caido..." He trails off with a bit of a grin, a buried why did the twenty-foot chicken cross Haulani in there. The idea of someone riding this rampaging poultry kaiju earns a laugh full of delight. At least, until the mud appears.

He can't tell if it's sentient enough to be going for him, or reshaping into a taller structure that he's in the way of. Either way, it's adhering to his heel with a murky, sludgey suction. He glances up at her recommendation that he ignite it, a free hand festuring at the leg he's got attached to it. "Not sure I have a surgeon's precision with flame," he says, 'brows lifting. Though, as she makes her way over, staff in hand and a plan behind her eyes, he finds himself twisting back around in consideration.

Drawing another match, his previous connection with flame having snuffed out, he attempts to hold a plane of fire at the surface of the mud. The heat radiates against his leg, and a few licks of flame twist away from his control, brushing closer than he'd like, but the mud does start to bubble and recoil from the brand.

---

Fire Manipulation (Abandoned/Hybrid): Can manipulate flames. Must be within a 30ft radius. Control is excellent
Type: Dark | Rank: Upgraded | Cost: Action

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

“Yeah, but what if it had a chance to be a killer chicken?” She countered with her eyebrows raised purposefully in the insinuation over the dumbest topic – i.e. perhaps the participants had been lucky and fortune they hadn’t become hen fodder. Still, a ridiculous story just the same, but a pattern of events that displayed the capability of Caido’s….wonders.

But then there was mud to consider, and she remained wholly unbothered by his lack of precision (in her mind, the more flames, the better), but as he utilized his, she felt the flare of the incantations surge beneath her pulse too. And what a wondrous element – all danger and heat, and she matched a grin as he remained persistent, watching as the grime recoiled from his pant legs.

She pursued the edges of the miniature inferno, bolstering the enchantments until it chased after the muck clinging to the ground – smile turning downright feral as she followed the pathways and lines, the mud bursting and shuddering, diminishing in scale.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

His eyes widen a bit as her fire joins in. He doesn't dare lift his gaze from the focused task of not roasting himself along with the mud, but the process is soon over with the addition of her own heat, the memory mud recoiling from his pantleg and writhing into defeat on the ground. He yanks his limb away from the inferno once he's freed, fabric colored darker in a smeared outline where fibers had started to cook. His skin beneath radiates excess heat still, skin pulsing with it.

"Good thing the mud here is smaller than twenty feet," he muses, gaze unflinching from her continued assault until the sludge is well and truly cooked. On the topic of monstrous things though, "So what's the worst you've faced off with?" he wonders, knowing she had faced a fair share already.

He straightens up and lifts his gaze from the roasted ground to the bright shimmer of her eyes, a smile fitting into place the moment he holds them. She always comes alive with ferocity in a way that he admires, the red crown around her too feral to ever be fully contained and tied back, wisps drifting out like vengeance as the lick of flame from her magic gilds everything in a warm glow. She's gorgeous.

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

Melita couldn’t keep away from the flames, unwilling to let them die and disperse just yet. Taking and coaxing the elements from where they burned, she persisted, striving to muster some mastery over the incantations that weren’t hers to begin with, but adored and cherished just the same. They rose in fell swoops and turns, scouring and scourging the mud she traced over, and she had a difficult time not laughing maniacally, but still managed to sport her feral grin.

The vehemence and ferocity rose, and daring to hold that precious inferno in her grasp, she felt it race through her pulse, bending and contorting as the fire licked after wounded grime, chasing down the remnants. Only when he spoke did she raise her head, concentration and focus breaking away from the pursuit, angling her gilded gaze back to him with a furrowed brow, as if to try and relay every single opponent she’d faced.

The magic pooled below her, nearly embers and ash. “Depends – there was a three faced monster that could heal itself during the war.” She still had a feather from it she’d yet to use – but only because Ludo’s abilities didn’t range in those regions. “The yeti in Halo was hard because everyone else was being stupid.” Of which she could say now, seasons away from the tumultuous means; of people who’d come out without jackets or thrown themselves directly in the creature’s path; companions and people destroyed within an instant or something that could’ve been easily avoided.

Huffing, she shrugged, then looked back at him and the gaze he was delivering. “Better stop looking at me like that,” she warned with a wink and a wrinkle to her nose (suffice to say she didn't really want him to yield away from it); otherwise they’d find themselves distracted by other measures.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

He doesn't realize at first the wildness that overtakes her is from cherishing of something new unwinding throughout her. It strikes him as she rouses the element with a similar fervor he's felt, that roar of it in his veins demanding more fuel to eat through. He'd though the potency of its destruction due to his lack of mastery, or that perhaps the mere fact that magic blazes that it also consumes logic and reason, tied so sharply with chaos it's risky when unleashed. That she seems overcome with its hungry light now too makes him pause, gaze rising in fresh wonder. Nothing like the easy control Deimos had displayed, well practiced in reining in decimating qualities, she unfurls it much like him. It's not just that she isn't Deimos, same as he isn't. It's something else. Shiny and new.

"Hey," he realizes brightly, "you just had fire arrows before!" He hasn't connected the dots that she mimicked his fire yet, his own magic becoming her match strike, but rather thinks she just uncovered a new ability.

It ground out and away into smoke and ash, mud curdling away as new old monsters reared up. "I'm guessing everyone else being stupid is always the hardest enemy to face," he grins, and is not so thick as to think he might not fall into that category at times. "Though, something that can heal itself does sound annoyingly challenging." The three faces didn't help either, likely making it hard to distract and to hide from.

Shrugging away monsters and idiots in favor of admiration for her glow, nothing at all to do with the flame she bent to her will, his grin responds before his voice does. "Or what what?" he challenges, tilting his head as if considering a new angle to appraise her from. "Just thinking, we could all use some washing off before getting back on the Firecracker," he offers with faux innocence.

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

She watched the embers beginning to fade with some sort of withdrawn melancholy; but knowing she could simply push it forward again, at some point, gave her that renewed bout of feral tendencies. The last little flare dissipated into the small remains of the muck around them, and she withheld the wistful little sigh, as Iskra attempted to make the connections. She barked a laugh then shook her head, the wild crimson hair flicking around like its own inferno, mood bolstered before it could dim. “It’s not mine. I just copied yours,” she winked again, before rendering back to former tactics, wondering what else she could push from her own magic.

As for the more frustrating aspects of fighting alongside others who either had a death wish or were too daft for their own good, she shrugged. “I think everyone should have long range capabilities, you know? Instead of throwing themselves directly at a monster.” And maybe that was a hint for him too, should he ever end up facing the inevitable. It was Caido, after all. There was always something, even if the world called it peace.

Pinpointing her enchantments on the grime remaining nearby, she unfurled another wound portion – only to find it made the whole area erupt into applause, and she pretended to not know what that was all about. Instead, she snorted at his insinuation, but played right along. “Oh? Where are we going to wash up?” She wasn’t going in that fucking well.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

JUST STARING AT THE SUNRISE
ABOVE THIS HOLLOW TOWN
BEEN CHASING EMPTY MEMORIES
THE KIND THAT'S KEEPING YOU DOWN

"Just copied mine?" he repeats with pointed stress on her choice of word. "Oh, yeah, no big deal," he scoffs with an amused shake of his head. "Mel, that's fucking cool! What else can you copy?! Anything?" His 'brows rise in the wonder of it, but with only lightning as his other option, he glances sidelong at her. "You wanna zap some mud?" he wonders, one hand already in his pocket, ready to reach for static if she felt like owning the element that had once done the opposite.

He can only agree with her sentiments, some of his prior bravado having been beaten back with evidence and proof of what facing a monster directly could do. "Yeah, that's why I've been working on my fire. I feel like it's close to reaching further." He can practically taste the way it swells in his veins now, potency about to be unlocked further.

He glances around as the sound of applause rises, and Goose likewise pauses, muddy body frozen in confusion. "The fuck was that? Didn't you hear that?" she's acting like nothing had occurred, but Goose's reaction is proving he's not insane, they both heard it. Shaking it off with a suspicious glance narrowing this way and that every so often, relenting to the final task at hand now—cleaning themselves. "There's gotta be water around here somewhere," he reasons, gesturing at all the plant life. "Orrr, I cover Goose's eyes and you blast us all with water." Not as fun as sinking into a pond with her, but they did need to get clean to get back aboard.

THIS SENSE OF INDECISION
AIN'T WHAT WE HAD IN MIND
THE DREAM THAT I ENVISIONED
I AM STILL HOPING TO FIND