carve ribs clean

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

“I haven’t been out this way before,” she commented towards her uncle, despite going back and forth with Iskra from various points in Torchline to Halo’s freezing reach. This terrain had the looks of a beach but no actual semblance or sanctity of warmth – blackened, obsidian, and icy – like some kind of Siberian nightmare. Not one bit of it seemed welcoming, perhaps a staple of Halo’s existence, and despite all the boldness trapped within her frame, she wasn’t about to go dipping her toes into the frigid bitch of the sea. She did kick an ice chunk out of her way though, watching it to vaulting straight into more nefarious looking dunes seemingly carved out of volcanic debris.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes swept back to Sunjata instead, gaze narrowing as if she was studying him – waiting for something to be deciphered or to show that she cared; a dual-edged knife. “Are you good and shit now?” Had he recovered from Ru? Had they even talked? Was there much else to say? Had he gone to see Frey already? All those inquiries settled behind her teeth like ammunition; little pieces of shrapnel she didn’t have the heart to unfurl. “Iskra and I had a good time at the dinner,” as if to soften the blow.

the honeybee

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

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

“Me neither.” Sunjata drawls, nose wrinkling a bit at the cold – as it always did when he had to venture toward a snow capped place. He wasn’t meant for the cold, never has been, so he shows up promptly and comically a touch too bundled up, using some partial shifting beneath the layers to keep the heat in as best he can. His attention lingers on the volcanic rocks and the sand beneath their feet, to the immense chill that wafts up from the water at their side, before his attention is caught by his niece with the question.

The question of whether things were good and shit now was a loaded one, so he latches onto the second one instead. “I’m glad you guys did.” He offers, and it works just as she’d intended – to soften the blow before he takes a few long strides to join her side. “I’m.. okay. I talked to Ru again and kind of explained that I needed to fix things on my own. She… Wasn’t a fan, as far as I could tell, but.” His gloved hand gestures helplessly in front of him. “Colt’s ranch burned down and she’s leaving. Wants to make Hak Etme livable for some reason, I don’t know. Started working on our new regional quest but haven’t really had time to go and see Frey yet between everything.” It’s a lot of a lore drop right off the bat, so he glances over toward her to see how she takes it – the pale light making his eyes look like liquid silver.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

She can’t help but watch the surroundings and him; though the former was for any impending lethal swing of Halo’s winds, and the latter more for any other marring wounds. He wasn’t limping or gimping or seemed to be suffering in any lacerated capacity, which would’ve been something she expected coming out of any tough Ru conversation. So she listened instead of immediately bursting in with something, heavily laden boots and stolen Iskra layers keeping her warm as she trudged; eyes widening briefly, but glancing at the ground so he didn’t see her shock so rapidly contorting around her face. “But she…accepted it?” Maybe there hadn’t been much else for her to do. Cringing a little, her nose wrinkled, face drifting back behind her scarf as another breeze blew in.

The news about Colt’s ranch, and then impending, resulting measures had her blinking at him, dumbfounded and bewildered. “Gods – but the desert fuckin sucks.” Last time she’d gone…well, she and Ronin had accidentally blown up an ally during the skeleton monster shindig… “What’d you guys decide to do for the region?”

the honeybee

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

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He nods, even as the reaction is exactly what he expected. It had surprised him too – waiting to feel the sharpness of her claws sink into him. “Yeah, far as I can tell.” And he might have left it at that were it not for the one thing that keeps coming back to him and haunting him. “I.. Brought the heart and she couldn’t even look at it. Like it was my fault it died or something.” His brows furrow, nose wrinkling slightly at the thought – because this was the time he was really trying. And everything had been out of his control.

An almost weary sigh follows it, though, with the mention of Hak Etme. “Yeah. I dunno what she sees in it.” But it isn’t his place to question it. It’s his place to watch more people leave his region, which was its own personal sting in a different way. So to the regional quest, it brightens something in him. “We’re working on a healing river.” Something that would benefit everyone for however long it lasted, nothing like the void protection he’d spent so much time on previously that seemed a smidge superfluous by the end of it.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

Her eyes widened slightly at the prospect of Ru just not acknowledging the heart. After everything they’d done together, upheaval after upheaval, dust after dust, trying so hard to salvage something out of every ruin, it seemed so strange to the Honeybee. Perhaps the Valkyrie hadn’t been able to admit it yet – too far gone in her own grief or surprise. She’d wanted to give either of them the benefit of the doubt, so she glanced downward again, kicking at a chunk of ice and watched it slide across the blackened beach. “Maybe in time she’ll realize it or…,” she paused, because it seemed to be he’d made up his mind, and that it probably scarcely mattered now. He’d have to mend things on his own – and whether or not that meant she’d be back in his life seemed to rely on many different potentials all at once. “Or at least give an apology,” the demigod opted for instead. It probably still wouldn’t be enough after everything.

The desert was a whole other strange notion that Melita couldn’t quite wrap her head around. “Huh. Well. The Greatwood would be like way easier but…go off I guess.” The healing river was another intriguing prospect, going the way several regions had ensured there were extra measures for those who lived within – briefly amused at the tiered levels of how they’d gone about it. “Oooh, nice.”

the honeybee

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

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He’s not sure if they’ll ever get to that point, if he’s being honest. And as he shoves his hands further into the pockets of his bundled up layers, Sunjata frowns from over the scarf on his face at the idea of it until Melita finishes her thought. “Maybe.” He doubts it, though. After everything they’ve done to one another, he wouldn’t be surprised if he never heard from her again because of this most recent ending.

He only hopes that it doesn’t end the way the last time did, with more burnt buildings in his region, the threat of diminishing his reign. But the subject of the desert is easier, how crazy it would seem to try and make it somewhere livable. “Yeah, I don’t know. I didn’t ask much when she told me she was leaving. We kind of… Got into it a bit before she left so.” Which seemed like the case in a lot of things lately where he’s beginning to wonder if it’s him that’s the problem.

Latching onto the mention of the river, though, it manages to make a smile form across his face. “Yeah, I asked Rae so we might not have to do it so many times. Just a kind of one and done thing.” He admits, shrugging a shoulder though it’s hard to tell with all the layers. “Soooo, what else have you been up to? You and Iskra get into any trouble lately?”

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

She could tell by the flattened tone that the suggestion was going nowhere – and whether or not it was the end all be all might matter further down the line, or it’d already ceased and desisted in those final moments. Her eyes flicked back to him, watching with all the speculative air of someone studying an indiscernible object found down at the bottom of some well – always trying to puzzle together what and why and how things managed to get this way for him. She didn’t think the blame landed squarely on his shoulders, not after her death or the loss of the heart, but the relationship conga line was something to behold.

Instead the subject altered to Colt and her departure into the desert – though the motive still didn’t seem very strong – her brow arching from beneath multiple layers of hats, voice muffled behind the scarves. “Got into it? Is she leaving because you guys fought or something?” Perplexed, she shook her head, watched as some little forms maneuvered in the distance, wishing she’d brought Sila out with them.

The river seemed to inspire more of a reaction though, so she stuck to that subject, eyes tracing the white blobs. “That makes sense. It’ll be a nice watery addition too.” She’d hardly expected the last inquiry, though she probably should’ve anticipated something. “Oh, well. I did get my cannons, so I’m ready for more attacks,” and she made a few finger gun motions, though they were slightly less animated within the gloves. As for Iskra, her face warmed up again and she’d blame the blush on the sudden amount of warmth flickering through many, many layers of snow gear. “We harassed people in the Celestine.”

the honeybee

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

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He can feel her eyes on him but he pays little attention to it as he focuses on the sandy black beach beneath his feet and the insane amount of cold he feels surrounding them despite all the layers he wears. So he keeps his hands shoved into his pockets, nice and deep to try and keep the warmth he does have as he shakes his head before he tilts it. “No, that’s not why.” He’s pretty sure, even as he seems to kind of go through the kombucha girl’s phases.

“Her ranch caught fire and burned down. She blamed me for not doing anything about the fires here even though we don’t.. really get that many so I didn’t think it was something to focus on at first.” He exhales a sigh that’s a cloud of fog in front of him before he shakes his head. “But I guess it kind of is my fault because I told her I’d try to get some lightning from the Grounds so we could make her fences electric and I had to use it for something else so she wasn’t home when it caught fire because she was chasing one of her livestock that’d gotten out.” It didn’t make a lot of sense to him either way – because even if she’d had the electric fences, who’s to say she would’ve been home at the time anyway.

And maybe he should have focused more on the rare and few fires that happened when Longheat was just a little too warm for a little too long.

Doesn’t matter much now, though, because she’s made her choice. So he latches onto the actual good news – the river and what Melita and Iskra are up to, using it to brighten his mood. “I thought so too.’ He agrees about the healing river, but his smile brightens and turns playful when he hears that she’d gotten her cannons and they’d harassed people in the Celestine. It even brings a quiet chuckle to air. “Thst’ll be nice.” The cannons, that is, but as for harassing people, he cuts her a small mischievous look above the scarf. “So how good of a harasser is Iskra?” He’d seemed tame at the party, though perhaps that was because of everything else.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

Melita blinked, momentarily confused, making faces towards a sheet of ice as if it had more rhyme or reason than the sudden lurch of Colt’s blame game. “How would you have been able to control a fuckin’ fire?” Sure, he had water magic, but the whole notion of him not implementing something upon a land that wasn’t known for its wildfires…and just horrendous, rotten luck when it came to later seasons, was a tad on the ridiculous side. “And some of the electricity could’ve caused a fire too, so,” she shrugged, the logic of the Accepted not being high on her list of what the fucks today. "Not sure why it's your responsibility to manage her shit." Why hadn't Colt gone for more preventative measures on her end?

As for Iskra and his harassing potential, the Honeybee grinned. “Well, obviously he’s gotten better under my influence,” and she winked from behind the multitudes of layers, as if this shouldn’t have surprised Sunjata at all. “He can rile a crowd up pretty decently if he’s goaded enough,” uttered with abject fondness; recent memories of flame launching in Stormbreak (pre implosion and falling, obviously) and howling amongst the shadowfangs an amusing image. He'd likely been on his best behavior at the dinner party; and it'd only been the three of them.

But her attention meandered as she saw the drifting plumes of birds coming in, much closer, and she recognized them for their descriptions beforehand. “Are those the fat, dumb birds everyone hates here?”

the honeybee

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

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He didn’t know how relieving it was to hear how absurd it sounded to someone else – only having the echo chamber of thinking that Colt was right after the whole fall out with Hotaru and everything else. Validation sits comfortably in his chest as he huffs a soft laugh that clouds in front of him before he’s tugging the scarf back up over his nose, already red with the cold from where it’d slipped off.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve been trying even if I haven’t been super active about the regional stuff between looking for Hotaru and all that.” Sighing, the fists in his pockets start to relax as he focuses on brighter conversations, pausing before they get into the nitty gritty of it to look over at his niece with appreciation. “Thank you.” For making me not feel as crazy as I have been about all of it.

As for Iskra, though, influenced by Melita was to be expected. And while she can’t see the grin under the scarf, his eyes reflect it in the brighter steel that reflects the slow and brightens more. “Obviously.” He agrees with amusement, before taking note of how the woodsmith needed to be goaded enough. He’s sure Melita has that handled tenfold.

Movement sparks attention, though, and he looks over to see the plume of birds arriving. Squinting over at them as he stills in step, already reaching for some water magic. “Yeah. I heard they taste pretty good though. We could snag one to take back with us if you want?” He asks her, glancing over at the Honeybee as the birds continue to drift closer, completely oblivious to the threat they pose.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

“Well, now I suppose you’ve got some time then,” she shrugged; given less distractions. If Colt wanted to leave, that was her right, but not to go out with such a bizarre take. She nodded at his gratitude, unaware of just how deeply the wounds bled or stung, or if they even did anymore, considering the impact and weight of an intangible heart gone to waste.

When he didn’t ask any further about Iskra she left it at that – some air of mystery surrounding things was ideal to her – and they were busy sorting themselves out anyway. The ningos happened to be a delightful distraction nonetheless. “Oooh, if not more,” came on a dare, and she took a deep breath, inciting the incantations pervading her form. The newest one answered warmly, its touch of danger and derision already there for the taking. “I’m going to need to work on my range, buuuuut,” she mentioned as it unfurled.

A wide brim of confetti blasted towards one of the birds. It hit dead-center, sending the fluffy flier sprawling in a downward spiral of damage and feathers, never quite knowing what had hit it until it was entirely too late, and it lay dead on the blackened sand.

the honeybee

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

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

“Yeah, that I do.” He says with a huff of a laugh – only partially amused by the reasoning for it. It sucked, obviously, but it also meant he didn’t have any more distractions and for that the Heartless does look forward to bettering his region, even if it did mean it’d take a lot more work and creativity for him.

The ningos distract him further, though, from prying and asking more questions – instead watching as Melita takes a deep breath and aims the cannon in a blast of confetti. “Nice shot!” Yipping a playful sound as he watches the ningo it struck begin to spiral toward the ground, he sends out his own water magic, adjusted toward ice spikes that he volleys out toward the avians. Nailing one of them from the sky as well, impaled in the shoulder initially and struck with a fatal blow shortly after, Sunjata watches his own ningo start to collide with the black sand as well.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

Melita half-hoped he’d take some time for himself; to semblances of his own portions and pieces back. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part – his own place in the world had never seemed to much matter to him, nor any notions outside of the next impulsive maneuver. Leading a region certainly had its affects (Melita would never want to do it in a thousand years, despite Flora’s constant offers), but she also wondered if he was going to prefer to wallow, linger around the melancholy again and again.

Sighing and partaking in bludgeoning instead, the felled ningo earned a little ‘huh’ on her end, then a wicked grin. Afterwards, she watched as her uncle took aim at another dismissively dumb bird, the ice spikes and shards served as a crescendo of violence, marking and impaling, sending it on a spiral towards it deceased brethren. “All right, all right, one more,” she remarked, the influence and spirit of vehemence humming through her – and she liked to watch the ricochet of damage holstered from her own incantations. To be a weapon too, rather than relying heavily on the armaments in her grasp.

She selected another figment at the head of their stupefied line, and narrowed her eyes, taking a casual aim. The confetti fired into the air, launching with great regard and speed towards the ningo. There was an indignant, surprised squawk echoed from its beak, but afterwards, nothing but the plop of another body hitting the ground. The rest of the flock appeared either confused, bewildered, or unbothered.

the honeybee

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

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He would take time for himself, provided he actually enjoyed such time. But lately it’s been too full of ghosts and the lack of sleep to really be anything enjoyable, so the Heartless has returned to old tasks, old reasonings, old ways to find things to do that kept him occupied so he wouldn’t be left alone with his thoughts for too long. It only worked half of the time, though he wouldn’t admit such a thing right now.

Especially not when there’s ningos flooding their way, and already Sunjata’s drifting toward the fallen avians as Melita makes her remark. He pauses to give her a full watch, tugging down his scarf from his mouth when he sees the cannon hit dead center in the flurry of confetti and violent success. Holding up his hands as if to say 10/10 the Heartless laughs lightly. “Thought you said you needed to work on your range?” He shoots back to her, the grin fully visible before he’s tugging up the scarf and snagging each one of the three birds and holding them from their feet to return to her with them.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?