You're made to make it out again

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

The foliage below rolls on like a green sea of a different kind. It's just as alive and all-consuming, but seemingly silent and still from up here, as if the waves of leaves have been frozen in time and do not crash against each other with the white-foam spectacle of the coast. The sparkling quality of Deepfrost's presence only adds to the sense of something in stasis, and without meaning to, Colt holds onto her breath a little bit longer, as if she too might slip into this suspended world.

It could also be entirely from the wind-whipping ride over here. Her braided hair has strands teased free by the trip, the little yellow fingers fluttering against the edges of his face from beneath her hat. Skyships aren't her favorite on the best of days, but slicing through the winter sky is a nearly miserable affair, her jackets proving nearly useless against the chilly breeze of the Firecracker's speed. Add to this Mel's aggressive maneuvering and penchant for speed and Colt is braced near a rail like she's just learned how to stand.

"I see it!" she calls back, and the eagerness in her tone is surely not just because she's grateful they'll be on some solid ground soon. Ahead, the tall and colorful shrine to Frey and Rae stands out like a hopeful beacon. Although it could be walked to, and that had been Colt's plan, she'd run across Mel in her travel prep here, and it seems they'd both got the same destination, for now. Might be worth descending into the jungle for a bit after they make their offerings just to get away from the wind for a moment and let the vibrations of sailing leave their bones. Colt turns, unsteadily, away from the side to be of help where she can for laying anchor.

---

Complete threads at each of Frey's existing shrines, leaving appropriate offerings for both aspects of the deity. (These threads should be completed in the board housing the shrine, rather than the shrine itself).

Colt

stars in the skin

The number of times Melita had gone to shrines within the Oerwoud and actually prayed at them was probably at zero – somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she’d have to make the pilgrimages at some point. But between all the other events and arrangements and distractions, she simply hadn’t – which would be a likely excuse until this juncture.

Unlike Colt, she was not absorbed in the delicacies of the surroundings – instead, her mind was directly on her skyboat, the incredible swiftness and speed, and the seditious feel of the wind in her air, surrounded by the wild ventures. Outfitted with all of Iskra’s sweaters and jackets she’d stolen and snagged on another recent trip, she remained wholly unbothered by the whipping ease of cold air, nodding along as the Accepted shouted out. “Gotcha,” she hollered in return (because if one was being honest, she hadn’t been on the lookout and was just going in a fierce, fast direction - joyriding).

Tugging on the lines and sails, she steered the wondrous Firecracker while Sila slipped out and down below, granting screeches to signal they were closing in. Fangorn, blessed with his vines, had long since wrapped them around the railings and prayed inwardly.

Once they could drop anchor, the Honeybee cracked a smile, releasing the steps to descend towards the ground. “All right, off we go!”

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

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

Despite the breakneck quality of Mel's driving, there's no doubting her skill as she carves out her place in the sky. That's proven all the more when they glide into a rather seamless halt near the shrine, rigging and ropes and anchors dropped with all the fluidity of practice and the ease of knowledge. Colt helps where she can, and gives space when she can't, which is a help in its own right.

With cheeks pinched red by the wind, Colt looks brightly over at the Honeybee as they are deemed fit to disembark. "Thanks for the lift over here," Colt murmurs as she nods, patting at her coat pockets to ensure she has everything. She does, so she swings over the railing and down the rope until she can put her boots on the ground. The jungle has some similarities to Suvahasi, but only in the best ways, and as expected Deepfrost has not plunged a hand so deeply into this area. Still, Colt's jackets are zipped and buttoned.

"Is this something all Demigods do, visit all the shrines, even these remote ones?" She can't say she'd be trucking her ass out here if she didn't have to. Glancing around at the new and strange foliage, Colt not usually making her way out here, she admires the bounty of beauty thet gods have seen fit to disperse through their world. Different shapes and sorts, each one unique in its own way.

The small trek up the hill is halved by their parking job, but by the time they reach the top Colt is unfastening some of her coats and letting the air get in. "Here she is, colorful as ever," Colt beams, ever find of her chosen god. The brightly colored structure holds some similarity with the rainbow road of Torchline, if only in the robust nature of its hues. Crouching down, Colt clears away some old foliage, then fishes out her offerings. "Some bondage straps for you, Sex Frey," Colt murmurs, offering up the plush, fabric cords, a bit of bounce and stretch to them. She figured with all the vines here there's some built in straps already, but never hurts to have different textures. "Some potpurri for you, Nature Frey, made from the dried leaves of this past Leachange season." A small, richly violet jar is place down, the little top removed to let the fragrant aromas of the dried plants comes forth.

Colt

stars in the skin

“Yeah, sure,” she handwaved the semblances and thank yous, grabbing hold of companions and offerings alike as they hastened down the ladder. She immediately bunched her hair up into a pile of crimson tresses in the back, folding over ponytail compunctions as the heat immediately hit her in the face like some humid ass tidal wave. Soon her jacket was tugged free and tucked along the rope ladder to retrieve later, and releasing Fangorn so he was free to bob amongst the undergrowth and snag something he found intriguing. Sila flew overhead amidst the canopy, a streak of bronze and wings, scouting while they pursued their own ventures.

The question might’ve emboldened a slight shrug, had it not seemed blasphemous. Instead, she pushed aside a vine threatening to creep nearby. “I think most in Caido have to do some sort of pilgrimage. Depends on areas and stuff too. Eventually you’ll want to hit up shrines in certain lands.” Snag at the trifectas and all that.

Melita’s concentration had mostly been on Ludo and Mort compunctions though, so to be at Frey’s and blessing the shrine left her a little bereft. Nonetheless, as Colt began to assert her bestowals, the Honeybee rifled through her bag, eventually producing a fanciful bowl she’d found at the markets in Halo – ivory, enriched and ornamented by intertwining grasses, trees, vines, and the like painted upon the sides. Even the inner portions were pieces of flowers and token portions she thought not Halovian would’ve seen – but perhaps their imagination ran wild in the constant snow. From there, she retrieved parcels of fruit and cream, laying them amongst several items of greenery, nicked from the greenhouse on her latest visit, including berries and sprigs of mint.

She said her prayers silently, but not without some level of reverence. Thank you Frey and Rae, she thought, nestling it amongst her favored chaos and more towards the powers that be. Without your guidance, Caido probably wouldn’t be what it was today. Sometimes safe, but often amusing nonetheless.

Rising up from her crouch, she brushed some dirt off. “There. You need to do anything else here?”

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

The undergrowth ahead parts just enough to reveal the suggestion of a massive form pressed low against the jungle floor. An Allogator lies in wait, its outline broken by leaves and shadow.

Only the faintest movement gives it away — a slow shift of muscle, the quiet settling of vegetation as it breathes.

It does not charge or retreat. It waits, patient and perfectly still, until something strays close enough to make the decision for it.

---

Allogator Areas Found: Hollowed Grounds, The Feverlands, Oerwoud — Uncommon An allogator is a crocodilian creature that evolved to take the appearance of a normal log. When it spots its prey, it remains motionless as it hides in plain sight, waiting for the prey to come to it, before attacking by surprise. Challenge Rating: Moderate HP: 1,266 | To Hit: +35 | Dmg: 31 Movement: Walk 30 ft.; Swim 40 ft. SPECIAL SKILLS Amphibious Endurance: can remain submerged for a long time, surfacing only to breathe; Armoured Scales: thick hide blunts claws, teeth, and small blades; Ripple Sense: detects minute vibrations and pressure changes in the water to pinpoint movement; Night Sight: excellent low-light vision for hunting at dusk and dawn

TRAITS Log Camouflage: when perfectly still it is indistinguishable from a floating log; Still-Water Ambusher: remains motionless for hours, striking only when prey is in reach; Low Profile: travels with only eyes and nostrils above the surface to avoid detection; Shoreline Lurker: favours shallows, mud banks, and drift piles for cover ACTIONS Sudden Lunge: explodes from stillness to close the last few feet in an instant; Bite & Drag: clamps down and hauls prey into deeper water to overwhelm it; Death Roll: locks its jaws and spins violently to break limbs and disorient; Tail Lash: a sweeping strike that can knock a target off its feet

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

Admittedly, Colt has not much bothered to spend her time blessing many of the other gods, much less lending a prayer to them. Although as Melita mentions the wisdom of venturing around all the shrines, Colt is reminded of the few times she's stood in Safrin's presence. Each time she found herself...comforted in a way she did not expect. Not the least of which is because Safrin isn't her chosen deity, but the terrible stories of the wrathful goddess do circulate, and not just about Safrin. Colt can hardly be throwing stones at that glass house though.

"I'm trying to build a new Frey and Rae shrine in Hak Etme," she offers up as they busy themselves with their offerings. "Next to the one for Ludo and Mort. Then, one for Safrin and Vi too." Proof that it is not just selfishly motivated, perhaps, even if that's certainly the root of it. "Maybe I should consider Dygra as well..." she ponders aloud, not thinking of the chaotic god until just now, but figuring she'd have plenty of distraught ancients in need of a blessing as well. She adds it to her mental checklist, and one could almost accuse her of trying to keep so busy she'd spare no time for stray thoughts and all the feelings they inevitably bring up.

"That's why I'm here," she says with a nod as she stands up and gives Mel better space and privacy for her offerings and prayers. "Visiting all the Frey and Rae shrines around Caido." Which, to her understanding, also means all the generalized old god shrines. Turns out there's quite a lot of them collectively. "Ended up talking to Sunjata when I went to the one in King's End." The admission isn't hard to make, but she sets it down like it has weight just the same, because it'd been no small or easy task. "Have you talked to him lately?" The surprise of his attitude still lingers, and she wonders if it's been less sudden to people who've stayed close with him.

Shaking her head as Mel asks what else is needed, Colt flicks a bug off her sleeve that's likened her to a branch. "I'm se—" She stops dead, breath curling in sharply. Her gaze had followed the bug's arc, and where it landed is painstakingly familiar. An ordinary looking log, one they might have ventured to close beside normally, but the bug seems to have caught the allogator's eye too as it literally blinks once before resuming it's camouflage, the insect not worth the effort. "Be very careful," Colt exhales, unsure of Mel's experience with the beasts, but fresh off a difficult fight with one, Colt has a newfound and healthy respect for them. "That log is an allogator." She points with a hand, gaze still focused on the beast a bit too close for comfort.

Colt

stars in the skin

To hear Colt’s plans for ensuring all the gods were being represented in the desert made her brow arch, a quiet hum passing through as she nestled other portions back into the earth, standing back to survey the depths. “Dygra would probably like it too,” she shrugged; though she was no expert on the ancient goddess. “Chaos. Heat.” Seemed to fit the bill.

Brushing her hands together, she hadn’t thought the topic would shift to her uncle of all people, especially considering prior conversations. But rather than immediately jump to questionable anger or an outburst at the defensive measures over Sunjata, she tilted her head, listened as Fangorn crashed through the undergrowth, vines catching an insect. “A little bit. What’d he say?” He’d be the type, especially now, with lacking a heart, to just accept whatever – and that made her the tiniest bit irritated too – wishing he’d be a bit more stubborn, a bit more guarded, a bit less inviting for everyone to stomp all over him.

All those notions aside, the ripple of movement nearby, and Colt’s exhale, made the Honeybee stiffen. Her eyes flickered briefly upwards, but Sila clearly hadn’t caught any motions, and the beast must’ve been well-camouflaged. Ushering Fangorn closer, her eyes narrowed, and then she took a deep breath, gauging situations and pragmatic means. “Well, be ready to run up the ropes,” came as a warning, because she was going to unfurl and no one was going to stop her.

A blast ricocheted from her – confetti sprawling, a jettison of power and prowess encountering the allogator with might and sudden explosions of bright hues and colors; marked and probably irate about it.

Allogator: 1195/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

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

She admittedly hadn't given much thought to whether the gods would like to be plopped down in the desert or not. A trend of hers, thinking of her needs and how to fulfill them, and only seeming to become aware that there are other considerations once they've been pointed out to her. Maybe it's all the time she's spent with Frey, her god as easy-going as water's shape (and yet the same thing carves away mountains), present in all aspects of the world. It seems there's little to be done to irritate her deity, except perhaps too much straying from one's nature and desires, and it's worth noting that Colt heeds those with the strength to speak up usually. Still, perhaps bothering to glance around a little first could do her some good. "I hope they all do," Colt murmurs a moment of blinking after Mel's assertion of Dygra's likely appreciation. She'd make a point to ask instead of tell next time she prays. It wouldn't do well to erect a thorn for the divine after all, not like the shrine which calls Ludo into Halo's cold vice.

Colt's features wrinkle when Mel doesn't offer much. She can't decide if it's protection, which is understandable, or if it's just truth wrapped up in the distance of regions and the busy lives of demigods. Either way, there's no immediate certainty that Mel shares her concern, and it's enough to make Colt reconsider if this is worth dragging into the light. It might not be Sunjata they end up examining so much as herself, and in response, Colt's weight shifts a bit.

Before she can decide what more she will say, there's a bug to flick and an allogator to see, and apparently, shoot.

Unable to keep the widening from her eyes and jaw alike, Colt is rendered speechless and stunned when the confetti flies like some unwelcome celebration of mayhem. Maybe it's the not having the god backing her name, or the wariness of playing any of her aces when the desert has threats she can't so easily walk away from, but Colt's immediate response is not to fling herself towards the living tank. She has never minded a fight, but she prefers not to if she can manage it, knowing each one usually results in blows on both side and some risk.

"What!?" she demands, snapped out of the stupor as Mel offers her a way out. "And leave you here to become its chewstick?" She scoffs, reaching not for the ladder but the bow and quiver slung at her back. She nocks one of her sharpened arrows and fires at the beast. "So, he was surprisingly...happy?" She picks up their previous thread as if the interruption of a deadly creature is not worth any further delay.

She might not have chosen this fight, but she'd be damned if she wouldn't be part of it now.

Colt

stars in the skin

Melita had been so unbothered by much of the monsters within Caido, that this was no less of an inexperience. She could see the big thing moving and grumbling, and partially rolled her eyes, heaving a deep sigh when Colt didn’t seem for the culmination of danger, conspiring, and blowing shit up. “Pfff. I’m not going to be its chewstick,” she handwaved away, borne of confidence and experience – because first of all, she could always blast it from her ship, and second, she could go invisible and the gigantic lummox wouldn’t be able to find her to do said chewing.

To demonstrate, she maneuvered off to the side as it came lumbering towards them with a gigantic hiss, shooting off another round of cannon fire and fodder. The spray of confetti made a neat little addition to its anger, pressing over its rounded eye sockets much like eyebrows as it contorted and writhed in pain, dismay, and obvious bouts of righteous hostility.

Nonplussed, having taken down yetis entirely on her own, she skipped over towards a rock, content to be out of its way as it decided on who to bother. Continuing the conversation as if nothing was going on around them, she hummed a little under her breath, head tilting as she decided whether or not to use her own arrows and their elements. “Happy? Like…cheery and shit?” Maybe he had gone to Frey…but he also hadn’t asked for help yet, not after all the times she had Iskra had offered.

Allogator: 1124/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

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

The continued spray of colorful paper with each pop of damage Mel unleashes is more amusing than Colt would like to admit, but the tug of her smile gives her away. It's entirely absurd, and she imagines terribly insulting to the beast, although she isn't sure it's got sense enough to mind the pinata-form of gunsmoke.

Glancing back over her shoulder to keep her exit route in mind, Colt reaches behind her head to withdraw another sharpened arrow from The Pencil Sharpener. "Yeah, exactly." She sets the tip to her bow string, muscles bunching as she pulls it back, squinting into her aim as she lines her shot towards the beast. "I know on the surface that doesn't sound unusual," she says with a long exhale, breath steadying even if her thoughts won't, and she fires towards it once more with a twan of her bow and a flick of her fingers.

"But given everything he just went though... I dunno. It sat strange." She has known Sunjata happy before, plenty of times. He has always been some of her favorite company in King's End because of it, his laughter easy to coax out and his smiles terribly infectious. He's also prone to sweep his hurt into the folds of his hair, tucking sorrows behind charm like a blade he didn't mean to let flash in the light. She always appreciated those glimpses of metal, as comforted by the reality of suffering as the warm lacquer of cheer pretending it could make everything better than it is.

Her bow arm droops a touch, attention on the trail of the arrow and the intent of the allogator. "He said Frey helped him." Her lips tighten, one cheek sucking in slightly with consideration before she forces herself to relax and sighs it out more heavily. "I dunno. Not really my place, I know." She isn't judging him, quite the opposite, she's more worried than ever before. It feels like he's burying it, this coming from someone with plenty of blisters from shovel work, and she would not blame him for making the hole. She also knows though, that means he's not actually okay.

Colt

stars in the skin

On a whim, Melita reached into her wild magic. There were mild hopes for something truly devastating, and none of them were her having a sudden nap or turning into a frog, and as she took a breath, she was surprised to see a streak of lightning snap directly into the allogator. Had she not practiced so much with Iskra, perhaps she would’ve done more than flinch, inwardly or outwardly, as the cretin was suitably electrocuted in its murk and mud. Maybe partial paralysis had done a number on it, because it made no move as Colt’s arrow shot into one of its legs either; further proof that they were capable, even if it required a bit of fortitude and endurance.

Skipping off the rock and placing Fangorn along the rope ladder, she began to arm herself for other possibilities as Colt talked and processed through her uncle’s antics. Pondering the particulars left Melita with a growing sense of unease – because she’d left him beforehand with all kinds of talks and discussions about going to Frey, seeking out his heart, and doing things for himself…and while maybe that’s what this was, it still didn’t sound quite right. “No, I know what you mean,” her brows furrowed, a brief look of contemplation settling on her face. “I’ll talk to him and see what’s going on. Thanks for the heads up.” Not that she’d be able to save him from himself, because he rarely listened and it was like talking to a wall on the best days, but between herself and Iskra they might be able to conjure some movement and motion.

Allogator: 983/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

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

Less aware of Mel's skills, the Ludo demigod ever growing and changing, and her wild magic an enigma besides, she's continually surprised to discover new ones on display. The confetti now turns to lightning, the great, bright arc of it snapping against the allogator with a visible clash of light and destruction that makes Colt blink back against the harsh sizzle of it.

Grateful that Mel understands what she means, however poorly worded, Colt rests a bit easier at knowing she's passed off the word to someone Sunjata is close with. Someone who might know how to better keep him afloat than she had done, evidently proving no better than a stone to the flood. "Yeah," she says with the fortitude granted by worry. "I'm sure whatever he's doing with Frey will ultimately be for the best, but...yeah." She trusts her god would not lead her own charge astray, but Colt also knows that Frey is not necessarily the sort to coax the survival of one thing over another.

Grabbing another arrow and fitting it to her bow, Colt takes aim at the beast once more and lets loose another sharpened tip to try and further pierce its thick hide. She squints, unsure how much harm they've managed to deliver, although it keeps writhing with each assault as if bothered. "Next to talk to is Flora," she huffs out as she watches the arrow fly. "I did talk to Soh though, and she admitted to saying the things she did to Flora."

Colt

stars in the skin

Opting to take a different route yet again, as she enjoyed having a plethora of options, the Honeybee drew an imaginary line on her arm, letting the sparkle and sizzle of her bow appear out of nowhere. Snagging at an icy pinnacle of an arrow from the quiver on her back, she bided her time, narrowing her gaze as Colt talked. Only after she let it fly, pinpointing it directly into the allogator’s eye (and it began to stumble haphazardly, careening through underbrush), did she mull over her uncle’s complexities. Again. “Man, sometimes though, I don’t know. I really would like him to get the heart healed and shit,” which they’d talked about at length. “Tired of him just putting every single other person ahead of himself.” Because then it was the same old story, and he was railroaded time and time again.

Huffing a sigh and maneuvering out of the way so Colt could unfurl her own archer’s grace, the weapon found its mark again, jutting close to the beast’s neck. Melita scrambled towards the outlined shadow of her ship, watching as it continued to thrash around, scarcely noticing them as it writhed in pain.

Her head tilted at the semblance of talking to Flora and Soh, though the end result of the latter made her eyes widen – then narrow with some pinnacle of mischief and nosiness. “Ohhhh really. So now what?” Would there be some groveling? Apologies? A way to make amends or…worse, she supposed. It probably depended on everyone’s tempers and willingness to concede or bend.

Allogator: 782/1266

Melita

and fire, iron, scales

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

Another new item rears up in Melit's grasp, and Colt finds herself equally watching the demigod as the gator, as if trying to discern what the magician will next pull out of her hat, or in this case, her arm. The chilly bow gleams bright and nice as Mel lifts it up and fires on the beast, and Colt admires it with a low whistle of approval. "You're full of surprises," she says in commendation of what Mel has managed to arm herself with.

Nocking another arrow to let it fly beside Mel as they wander back up the slope to her ship, allogator turning pincushion all the while, Colt considers Mel's words. "Mm, I'm sure there's a certain...peace to being without it." She winces apologetically back towards Mel, aware that's not what the demigod would like to hear. "I'm not saying it's right, but I can understand it. After everything with Vesper..." she shrugs, the motion helpless to the truth of the feeling, and easier to say now than before when the blood letting had felt more fresh. "I kind of wanted someone to just take my heart away then too." She thought her first husband already had, but he'd eroded something far worse with every insult and threat. Her trust, inexorably woven around the heart, lay tattered and pulled apart by him, and with it any hope of being so deliriously happy again. Enough so that she's at times wished to forget that experience altogether. So her first husband would steal her mind from her, and Vesper all her feelings, and then she'd be left as nothing more than a husk, and somehow that still had a shine of appeal to it. "It's messy," she decides with a long sigh.

Lining up her shot, Colt sends it towards the log with legs, lowering her bow slowly as she watches the arc of the feathered shaft through the air. "Well, now I think I'm done being any sort of friend with Soh. Not that there was any doubt before, but at least I heard her side, and it's as bad as it seemed." Colt snorts, still unimpressed. "That cost me Zavien, too, since they're dating now." An added bit of salt to the wound. She sucks in a fresh breath, winding up the explanation. "None of that changes what I'll tell Flora though. Essentially, Soh said I was never supposed to hear it, but Flora was. So now the matter becomes showing Flora I didn't mean to come across the way Soh says." Which is still the trouble, because she has her best friend saying otherwise in her other ear. "Won't do me any good to cut Soh down in front of her, much as she deserves it." She'd just keep her distance from the Luminary from hence forth.

Colt