Days feel longer without you

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

There's not much in the way of surprising her when she is both his ride and knew the plans after he tossed them out in the hot springs, which is for the best since he would have opted for Stormbreak first. Which, could be considered a bad sign that he picked the wrong plan for her, but he'd selected it precisely because it would not be the usual romp through wilderness. He should have known, rather than something different though, she's one to embrace the wild in full, and he can't deny that this is a better outcome than pretending they're both comfortable sitting at a table among bricks. A time and a place for both, surely, but for now they've got adventure to find and treasure potentially with it.

He has tried to build some secrets into the visit though, which would be revealed in the right time, but for now they're sailing steadily towards the Peepholes. As they anchor, Iskra hops down with a large pack of supplies slung across his back. Ampere is one of them, because you never know what could transpire in Caido, though his flame is his usual go to. Not one to be left home today, Goose also joins along, hopping down with an eager press of his nose into the jungle and wayward steps there after as he investigates and pisses on most every leaf.

"Anything you're hoping to find today?" he wonders, offering whatever help he can to get the ship and her settled. Since they're in the jungle he is in his more typical attire of boots and thick jeans, suspenders forgone for a belt, but he does have on a nice green henley pulled over a pale undershirt. His sleeves are pushed back to his elbows, tattoos peeking free from the edge of the fabric.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

Melita managed to get them to the Peepholes in one piece, though not without its few frightening moments of ridiculous speed (that she didn’t blink an eye at) or the almost disastrous landing (again, too fast). Dusting off her hands and righting a few ropes, she hummed a little under her breath, content with both the wilderness and company.

She was very tempted to say something cheesy at his inquiry, but cast a feral grin instead as they disembarked, loosening Fangorn from her hold and watching the pumpkin roll into the vicinity. “Anything,” she remarked. “Last time I was here I didn’t get to do much.” Her eyes flicked haphazardly towards the cave entrances all laden throughout moss and plants, the great mysteries lingering within, the potential for treasure or chaos. She wouldn’t even mind finding something as simple as rocks, or another one of those eggs, eager to pocket some sort of souvenir from wayward lands. And grateful, perhaps, for the potential to unravel out here, instead of stuffed away in stones and buildings.

She had tried to look moderately presentable today – in a sundress that would inevitably get some sort of dirt or blood on it (but it had pockets), hair only slightly tousled until the humidity got ahold of it. Sending Sila ahead to scout, she watched as the dragon intentionally dipped lower, towards Goose, before winding back up over pockets of warm, thermal air, then whipped her gaze back Iskra’s way. The Honeybee had given him a once-over, in eager approval given her gaze, before they’d taken off, but gave him another rapt appraisal and a smug grin before maneuvering onward, gaze briefly on the pack, then pretending it hadn’t been at all. “What about you?”

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

With her at the helm he'd long since learned to find a strict stance and steady grip on something that usually involves some white knuckles. He definitely never comments on her decisions for speed or whipping through turns. It's fun, the way most near-death experiences are when you survive them, but it's best when he doesn't consider the potential too heavily. She has been sailing all this time though and keeps walking away, so surely it's alright. He might worry if they ever get into an argument when she's behind the wheel though, so he quietly adds learn to sail to his to do list.

That her potential for enjoyment quickly becomes anything is one that earns a wide grin. "What were out here last time for?" he wonders as they settle into a stride fit for wayward exploring, close enough for his shoulder to brush and bump against hers every so often. "Oh, I don't know," he hums out, head tilting back faintly in thought. Goose gives a dramatic snort and dip of his body away from Sila, but is quickly bounding after the dragon in pursuit, long since having grown accustomed to the pair, though easily made back into a yelping pup the moment play turns too south for him (aka he starts losing).

"Nothing you find here remains, right? Or they just vanish if they stay in the hole?" His lore is iffy at best on a good day. He seems to shrug, as if considering that it doesn't matter what the answer is either way. "Something I've never seen before would be fun. Or an instrument to try out. Maybe a new weapon to toy with. Something to smash..." The potential is limitless, really. With Sila scouting and Goose helping (?) he summons a small flaming bird to flit along after them, offering light for them all.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

Her eyes immediately went to a hole nearby, covetous means already billowing through her mind. Even with the shape of Iskra’s fire lighting the way though, it was easy to see the first aperture held nothing but a vast quantity of dirt, and her greedy measures would have to be sated elsewhere. She glanced back up at him. “Gods, it was years ago. I think back when we were all hunting for relics, before that war.” An arms race scramble amidst jungles scruples and tasseled eaves; and naught to show for it. Rumors had gone about that others had snagged it though – where it was now, she had no idea, if it had even survived at all.

Half temped to shove him in return for the shoulder brushing, or up against a stone surface (difficult to tell when her mind went in a variety of places all at once), she opted for gazing at him, then along the scales of bronze ahead, Sila dipping low again to taunt the dog, then sweeping upon canopies Goose couldn’t touch. Fangorn, for his efforts, was already tracing portions with his vines, showing Melita various lichen and then placing them in his mouth in loud rumbles.

At the thought of the lore, legends, and rumors, the demigod shrugged, placing her bag higher on her shoulder. “See, I’d heard that if you don’t grab the shit, then it disappears,” like opportunities, gone in a flash if not taken, spells and notions that couldn’t return. Melita arched a brow, smile turning slightly feral at the thought. Maybe she just liked excuses for her impulsivity and boldness, very proud she let the ‘smash’ comment go by without making it lewd. “All right, what about that one then?” Pointing to another they’d come across – shallower, but a shallow pit nonetheless, maybe containing vast quantities of things.

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

Much like the search for flowers in specific regions to prick back at the Family, Iskra had not spent much time relic hunting. He had gone gardening a few times, shaking off some of the rust, but the relics had all been a bustle of war he'd happily opted out of. He had plenty of his own battles raging then. "Oh, even better than if it was that long ago and that frantic, now we can actually enjoy it." And it is beautiful, actually. An untamed jungle to be sure, but beautiful with its array of flowers and lichen-covered stony mouths. Vines weave like green veins pulsing humid heat throughout the ground and between the trees, and through the filtered light coming down the leaves things shake or sway as various creatures spring past on wing or limb. The day, fortunately, is clear for now.

With a quiet sort of smile that never seems to fade in her company, he glances from his inspection of distant openings and their possible offerings, catching her gaze just as it leaves him to Fangorn's insistence. The gourd offers up a mossy treat in proud accomplishment before swallowing it back, and Goose bobs away from Sila with a complaining bark, something that sounds terribly like cheater!. A chaotic, happy little family of sorts. He exhales in steady joy of it.

"Guess we'll find out," he murmurs, now hoping they find something actually worth keeping, although he supposes even a memorable stone could do the trick as a souvenir. His sight follows the line of her point, a thoughtful hum of consideration rising. "Let's take a peek. Do I owe you a finder's fee?" he grins as he closes the distance and crouches into the cavern, his flame bird joining them with an orange glow. It spills in stark shadows and gleaming edges over the rock innards and its treasures. A grand display of books.

There's no denying the crestfallen look that comes over him. A wealth of knowledge, one might say, and while he enjoys books, when you're expecting treasure it is a let down to find bound spines. "Not the surplus of gold or shiny things I was hoping for."

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

Enjoying something simply for that sake hadn’t been on Melita’s mind in years. It hadn’t been easy to do in childhood, much less in years before now, when war was imminent over and over again. Maybe in between she’d been able to find some version of her own kind of peace, but even then, it’d been edged and lined with her favorite sort of ridiculous bedlam. Relishing the beauty of the area, rather than pondering how to ambush someone from the nearest tree, was a difficult notion initially, but she grinned back at him along the statement, let her eyes filter and flicker over the world with a more profound sentiment. To see what serenity was like. To not have to wonder over the annals of tranquility; stored and settled in remote regions and greenery and indulgence and him.

But then there were things and she scurried over alongside, curiosity maintained in the widened set of her eyes and the jubilant grin. “Not for the first one,” she hummed, wrinkling her nose and winking; figuring there’d be more and more sets of the mysterious and enigmatic quandaries to explore. As the bountiful, flaming orb of a bird hovered and granted light, she laughed at the books – hardly what either of them had likely been hoping for. “Mm. Don’t they always say knowledge is a gift?” She wouldn’t say it was better than shiny things or gold though, but she grabbed hold of one of them anyway, inspecting the spine. When it didn’t disperse or fall apart in her hands, she turned it over.

It didn’t look ancient or new; slightly weathered, a little yellowed along the paper’s edges. The title made her snort, Stormbreak’s Slums: Your Guide to Squalor, passing the tome over to Iskra should he want to keep it, before peeling over to the next one. Travel Digest: Discover the Grounds, and so forth. “I don’t know about these though.”

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

He snorts at the idea that this a trove of gifts. "Something like that, yeah," he mutters, reaching for one not long after her. While she considers Stormbreak's slums, he inspects King's End, the place to be buried! It's bleak, and he lets the dusty pages fall shut as he takes the book she offers instead. It's a bit more interesting upon initial inspection, but it's all a bit dull still. Some nice drawings of a city he doesn't know well, and a few vulgar jokes or comments sprinkled in. "This looks like some travel agent's spring cleaning." He wrinkles his nose, unimpressed.

"C'mon, surely there's something better." He backs out steadily until he can stand again, holding out a hand in offer to help her out too, though he doubts she'll need it. "In fact...race ya to the next cavern!" He calls out sudden and sharp as he bolts from her side, pack jostling wildly on his back, in tempo with the challenge of his laugh. "First one to find three cool things is king, or queen, of the Peepholes!" Goose barks alongside him, joining his run to the next promising opening, excited but not knowing why. Iskra's fire bird flits alongside him, offering the company of light.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

The implication that someone just dumped their shit here leaves Melita both distressed and annoyed; an irritated gasp filling the void of her sudden silence. She didn’t really want the mystery to fade away because some Stormbreak assbag decided to leave their spring cleaning to the Oerwoud’s essence. “Laaaaame,” she uttered instead on an extended drawl, regaining her stance and pushing aside another book (Do You Have Rodents of Unusual Size in Your Neck of the Woods?) and sighing, about to slide her arms over her chest and muster some other comeback.

Except then they were reeling, a challenge in the air, and her eyes widened, immediately sprinting after him on notions of adversity and ambitions and simply beating him in the sudden provocation. “You’re on!” Easily taking the bait, incensed and ignited, her strides kept up with his through the undergrowth. More than once she took to dramatically launching over a log, listening to the confusion toiling from Fangorn to Sila, back and forth, as she laughed, then turned swiftly to the left at the sight of another peephole.

Ducking and gasping for air, laughing, she slid around its darkened exterior, and snagged at whatever was shiny in her midst – a rock - and she held it up with vicious glee. “Already got one!” and then she was trying to grab at anything in the midst, not unlike some Smeagol-like figure, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see or seize anything in the vicinity.

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

He veers to the right, practically diving into the opening in his haste. It's all he can do to stay upright as he crouches and slides, leaning down to brace on his hands before shifting his weight to his heels. Beyond, he hears the rampant pattern of her gait as she vaults about, sinking into her own trove. His stash is much more promising than books, though Goose's frame soon enough obscures it as the dog sidles in, unnecessarily giddy about Iskra being so close to the ground. "Ge'roff," he mutters around dog fur as he wrestles the mutt back. He reaches out to swipe something that calls to him, grinning like a fool as he pockets it and backs out, just in time to hear her announcement.

"Oh yeah!?" he taunts from across the way, squinting through vines and leaves to see the flash of her as she continues on like some vibrant bloodhound stuck on the chase of potential. "Well I got one too! Even better, I bet!" Aware then that they have no impartial judge, but shrugging it off for now as he also resumes the mad dash through the jungle to next possible cavern. In his pocket his past find sways with the momentum—a colorful feather.

His own laughter bubbles forth, breathless now as he sprints and it threatens to steal all his air from him. His pulse rises, rushing up to some wild jungle tempo and the thrill of the hunt alongside her, as eager to win as just to compete with her again. It slides back as simple as ever, having fun with her, living life as a dare and a dream in one.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

“Doubt it!” Melita hollered back, already beginning to scorch her way out of the vicinity and onto the next. The amplitude of the challenge spurred her onward, covetous, mercurial, greedy, like a demon just released from its time below. She flew through the undergrowth, striving to keep her pace even, then far more, than his. Easy to incense in all qualities of emotions, maybe later she’d be able to reflect upon the moments strewn within: the collective footfalls of foolishness, the unvarnished way they could always interact, the pulse and pervading overtures of days long, long before, blended and made hallowed rather than hollowed. Nothing carved out or seared – amusing, handiwork of streamlined childhoods, folded right back in as if they’d never left or sculpted their way out of hardships.

She could feel the weight of the rock in her pocket as she moved, sundress already covered in dirt along the hem. Hunting, stalking, churning; her limbs flew across the ground and bound through the brush. “Aha!” she yelled and screeched with all her glory as she spotted another open sanction, launching into the aperture as if her life depended on it. She could nearly hear Sila rolling her dragon eyes, but she scarcely cared, fingers grasping hold of whatever.

Which happened to be bones. Small ones – likely from a hen once loosened and hunted, but nonetheless, into the dress’s compartments it went. “I’m so going to beat you!” came upon a sing-song taunt, cupping her hands around her mouth, then holding a wishbone up as if it was a trophy.

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

The return fire of her voice, confident and competitive, spreads the grin across his face like something reckless. His pack bounces with every stride, and he's forced to keep his feet high as roots undertoe threaten to snare any that become too lazy. As an added hazard, Goose bounds alongside him, barking in delight as they run, occasionally swerving in like he means to cut in front of Iskra and send the pair of them tumbling into undergrowth and hurt.

Before that does happen though, the next promising cache opens up to his side and again he slides in, the soles of his boots taking the brunt of the sudden braking as they cut through soil and leaf litter, his body leaning with the effort and leaning onto an arm for support as he sinks under the alcove. Here, a display of various natural dolls await. They're mostly comprised of bundled sticks or straw, leaves wrapping around as clothing, and acorn bits serving as hats. He takes one that has two small flowers for eyes and decides to keep hold of it in his hand for safe-keeping.

Backing out again to continue the race, ever wary of Goose's accompanying shadow as he does run full tilt, his laughter fires back at her proclamation. Although she is faster than him, and urgently he reaches his stride out further to close the distance, his shout strangled on breath as he calls back. "Better get ready to lose!"

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

She could hear him running and rambling through the jungle; and soon she’d lost all essence of what they’d been there for in the first place; mind consumed by the provocation, by the need to win. A mercurial, whimsical, capricious exercise and interlude, sweeping through the undergrowth as he called back, snagging at something. Her mind wasn’t unlike the wake of its consuming abyss when battle broke; buzzing, analytical, thriving on muscle memory and impulse, the inherent goblin and crowd greed humming and churning at every beat of her pulse. Except this time instead of weapons in her hands, it was merely the avaricious glee never far away, thriving on the potential of victory and challenge.

She’d lost count of how many things he’d claimed to have found, hellbent on discovering and deciphering through the threshold of another peephole. When the next one was naught but empty, she huffed, listening to Fangorn call from several fronds over, as the vampire gourd had her back in all things stupefying or indulgent. Peering over a rock, she sighed with relief, scratching the pumpkin on the top of his head as she pried through the remaining offerings – a crimson leaf, a purple flower, and a series of acorns. It looked as though they’d been gathered by a child; certainly a youth like she’d once been would’ve hoarded these like delicate things, until her mother said there were more than plenty within their house.

Snagging at the flower, and deciding to place it within her hair, just behind her ear, she hummed, presuming herself triumphant. “All right, let’s see what you got!” She roared through the copses and groves, Sila uttering a low rumble to ensure he found where they’d been gathering; the Honeybee already going through her pockets.

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

Skidding to a stop inside the newest peephole, he glances about at all the assembled offerings. It's a strange array of chocolates. Wary of taking food left out in the jungle, he nonetheless is drawn in by the sweet smells and the merry way they gleam, suggesting nothing nefarious. He reaches out and pockets several, knowing he has few other options anyway with the time ticking down. Already even he can heart her rustling dying down in the readiness for show and tell.

Grunting as he backs out, using Goose as leverage, his flame bird snuffing out with a flcik of his wrist he rises back upright. Running a hand through his hair to reset the mess made from frantic treasure hunting, he grins as he meets her in the central space. "Are you ready to crown me winner?" he begs with a waggle of 'brows, entirely convinced of his own victory. He lays his chosen options out on a nearby rock for full appraisal. His feather, his wicker doll, and his chocolcates. Stepping back with an adjustment to his pack, he beams across at her. "Top that." It's clear invitation for her to present her findings now. He does lean in with some eagerness, expecting maybe she'd found all the things he'd been hoping to.

His eye catches then on the flower in her hair, his grin lightening from competitive smugness to affectionate awe. "Beautiful," he murmurs, not making it clear if he means the flower or just, her.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

The challenge was momentarily ceased; but Melita still felt like stalking and prowling, awaiting the culmination of their game. Her eyes ran over him, assessing with a feral grin that could mean any number of things, before her gaze went towards his findings. Feather, wicker doll, and…chocolates? “Huh,” she uttered, circling around the offerings as though she were the deciding factor (and if Iskra was smart, she shouldn’t be). Then she laid out her own discoveries, pilfering them out of her pockets, and subsequently her hair (though not without a blush and rise to her cheeks from his compliment). There, she lined them up directly with the opposition; the gilded rock, the tinier bone fragment, and then the flower.

“I don’t know. I think I should be crowned,” lingered on a smile, hastening her arms over her chest, sizing up the differentials. “Like, do you trust that doll? Or the chocolates?” Her brows arched, chin lifting in her usual defiance – intending to hear the argument over something mundane, ridiculous, and silly, far too deep in it now to back out willingly.

salvation doesn't look like light