[SE] [Training] no lie in the fire

and the only solution was to stand and fight

The Sword cast a long shadow as he walked and trailed behind his son’s rambling strides, snorting as the youth nearly fell, then carried on without a care. Overly protective to a fault, as he had no intention of simply letting Erebos run wild throughout Torchline on his own, he maintained a decent distance, certain he’d be able to unfurl anything that threatened any of the boys, while still permitting a fair amount of boyish mischief to be held without close, hovering proximity.

But even then he noticed the alteration in the air – not unlike Halo, it seemed the winter season had been slow to slip away from even the warmer climates. His eyes narrowed, speculative, as he raised his jawline, catching the sea breeze on his face, then tilting his head ever so slightly, contemplating the other proportions. Perhaps a grasp of Deepfrost that had yet to be shaken off, or something else altogether.

Though, he supposed, he could ask, as he saw the Queen of Torchline nearby. “Flora,” he nodded, trying to recall the last time they’d spoken, in between many announcements and stars amidst the sky, unaware of the other alterations from Safrin herself. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he granted with a small, easygoing smile, but figuring her wedding would be the exact opposite of what he and Evie had concocted.

DEIMOS

i could be the reason you can't sleep at night

Flora looks up from the clipboard in her hands at the sound of her name, and her expression changes quickly enough that the faint crease between her brows disappears at once. Deimos has always seemed, in her mind, to belong to Halo’s particular palette of white and blue: dark and immovable against snow, as though the cold has simply built itself a man and sent him out to supervise everyone else. Seeing him here instead, with the Arclight stretched bright behind him and the sun catching on water rather than ice, gives her a moment of delighted disorientation. She tucks the clipboard beneath one arm and lifts her hand in greeting. "Heya!" When she spots Erebos nearby, the grin already on her mouth broadens without any effort at all.

The congratulations catch her entirely off guard, despite the fact that she ought to be getting used to them by now. Her mouth parts around a smile that immediately gets away from her, too pleased and too obvious to be managed, and Flora shifts her grip on the clipboard because suddenly her hands need somewhere to go. "Thanks so much," she says, the warmth in her voice impossible to disguise even if she’d wanted to.

"Kai and I came over for the Deepfrost festival, actually," she adds, looking back to Deimos. "We had a really great time. Halo was beautiful, and Skijoring was wild."

and the only solution was to stand and fight

There was a time when Deimos had been nothing more than salt and surf; another child beckoned along the shallows and then the currents themselves, chasing gulls and hovering amongst dunes. But that had been before wars, not in this world, and not amongst this ocean. Maybe it scarcely mattered anymore, save for the natural inclination towards the sea, and then the ice – once he might have been torn between the two, and now he just shared the company, permitting the wind to toss his hair about.

He watched one of the boys attempt to wave him off; unfurling a loud snort at the notions. He did nothing of the sort, save for maintaining his distance, attention and focus shared from Torchline Queen and the youths back and forth. His glance went to her clipboard, then to her reaction, not thinking the compliments and greetings would’ve taken her aback, but letting her have it without his nosiness regardless, tempting as it might’ve been. Nodding at her thanks instead, he did loosen a low rumble of laughter at the skijoring antics. Wild displays were something they aimed for, from time to time. “Glad you found it amusing – I recall both of you made good time.” All of them had gotten through without major incidents – which, while surprising, he didn’t grant that particular notion. He’d had medics on standby though, just in case. “That had been our best turnout for a while. Thank you for coming all that way.”

His glance flicked back to the youths poking at something in the sand, before landing back on her. “I take it LongNight went well here?”

DEIMOS

i could be the reason you can't sleep at night

Flora follows Deimos’s glance down the beach, and the fond little laugh that leaves her is entirely automatic once she finds the two boys in the distance. "That's Carlo and Calan," she says, of her new twin brothers. There’s still something faintly surreal about looking at them and not seeing babies, but proper boys instead; old enough to be let loose on a beach, apparently, provided someone responsible remains somewhere within shouting distance.

Her eyes lift almost immediately after, drawn upward by the pale flicker of something moving high against the blue. Flora squints, raising a hand to shade her eyes before pointing toward the tiny white dot amongst the clouds. "Sugar's up there," she says, and smiles again. "Ronin can’t be too far away if she’s with them."

At the mention of Halo’s turnout, Flora laughs, the sound slipping out with a small shake of her head as she shifts the clipboard more securely beneath her arm. "Yeah well, total beginner’s luck," she says, though she adds, hastily enough that it’s clear the thought of tempting fate has caught up with her midway through, "not that I’m complaining." Her gaze returns to Deimos with a warmer smile. "And much as I don’t like the cold, your new hot spring was amaaazing." The last word comes out a touch more drawn than it needs to, like she can still feel the relief of it soaking into her bones. "That might honestly be enough to get me making it an annual thing."

When he asks after LongNight, she nods, her shoulders lifting in a faint shrug as if that ought to cover the whole thing. "Yeah. Pretty uneventful, really." There’s a pause just long enough for her mouth to twitch, because that isn’t entirely true and she knows it. "Someone had the bright idea to try and combine two of the big bonfires down on the beach, so that was a bit of a clusterfuck, but nothing terrible. Nobody died, nobody set anything important on fire, and I think that counts as an overwhelming success for us, all things considered."

Shell fragments click against one another within its body. Splintered sticks jut out at uneven angles, some polished smooth by salt or wind, others hooked and sharp. The bones woven through its centre are similarly weathered, though not all of them look as though they belonged to small creatures. Beneath the shifting sand, its limbs remain tightly coiled. A sudden roll sends shells and bone fragments skittering in its wake; when its branches open, they move like a living trap made from every hard, sharp thing the shore or desert has discarded.

---

You've encountered a Tangleweed Variant

---

Tangleweed Areas Found: Hollowed Grounds, King's End, Hak Etme — Common Appearing like nothing more than an amalgamation of sticks, the Tangleweed is actually an arguably sentient creature. For the most part it appears spherical in nature, keeping its many limbs tightly pulled against itself to form a round shape. It moves as if blown by the wind, suddenly rolling forward on the hard packed earth and then stopping just as suddenly. Having almost no natural predators, these creatures are found in great numbers especially along large, flat areas. It is often impossible to tell if a Tangleweed is dead or alive unless they are touched. If interacted with, the branch-like limbs will lash out and close quickly on whatever they can grasp, at which point a poison is released which causes the skin to numb. Then, quite like other species of carnivorous plants, the Tangleweed slowly begins to digest its prey. Challenge Rating: Easy HP: 30 | To Hit: 2 | Dmg: 14 Movement: Roll 20 ft.; Lurch 10 ft. (limb-propelled); Creep 5 ft. (against wind) SPECIAL SKILLS Lash & Latch: branch-like limbs whip out and close quickly and effectively on anything they can grasp; Numbing Poison: contact venom causes skin to go numb where seized; Slow Digestion: like other carnivorous plants, it digests prey over time once secured; Grip Net: multiple limbs interlace into a living snare that tightens with struggle

TRAITS Stick Camouflage: looks like an ordinary tumble of twigs and branches; Spherical Compact: limbs tuck tight to form a rolling, round body; Wind-Feign Locomotion: advances in sudden windlike rolls, then freezes; Dormant Deception: impossible to tell alive from dead until touched; Field Congregation: commonly accumulates in large, flat areas; Few Predators: little in the wild bothers a tangleweed’s dry, woody mass ACTIONS Sudden Roll: bursts forward in a short, windlike tumble to collide with a target; Limb Lash: snaps out hooked twigs to seize wrists, ankles, or gear; Numbing Seep: exudes the numbing toxin along gripping limbs to deaden sensation and resistance; Enfold & Digest: wraps prey into its core and begins a slow digestive process

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Deimos nodded, taking in the information, eyes narrowing still as he didn’t budge from his spot. Trusting in Ronin and Sugar was fine, and gave him some relief, but his son was there too, and all the overprotective semblances remained firm and solid. “They seem to be doing well. Grew quickly too,” and he arched his brow towards the Queen, presuming they’d taken much the same route as Erebos had, though at a faster rate, given it hadn’t been that long ago impending arrivals had been announced. “It is nice for Erebos to have a chance to play with others around his age.” Halo wasn’t bereft of children, but they certainly weren’t swarming; and the boy probably talked with more adults than anything else.

He had a feeling most of the skijoring had been beginner’s luck, but he tucked that away in the shift of his smile, amused, wrinkling his nose as he gazed out over dragons, then his son hoisting up Orsino for a better view of said frost fox. “Thank you, though all the compliments will have to go to Safrin.” Truth be told, he didn’t mind if hordes of people avoided Halo – he’d prefer it that way – but to hear they’d also carved something others enjoyed did provide some modicum of pride.

An uneventful LongNight was sometimes all they could ask for, though his brow arched at the semblance of stretched notions – snorting at bonfire combinations, no one dying, and naught too damaged and overwrought. “Far better than some LongNights,” he added. Gaze going back to the cluster of boys along the beach, his head tilted; not wanting to be seen as a looming shadow but still close at hand. “Seems I am not entirely required,” but a guard nonetheless. “Do you need anything done?” Figuring he might as well be useful during the interim - though he was briefly distracted from the inquiry, brows furrowed slightly at the strange tangleweed billowing by; bones, shells, like a snare craving to open wide.

DEIMOS

i could be the reason you can't sleep at night

Flora snickers softly beneath her breath at that, her eyes following Deimos’s back toward the boys with a look that’s far too fond to carry any real complaint. From here, with the sea and sand swallowing up the smaller details of whatever Carlo and Calan have decided constitutes a perfectly reasonable afternoon, they look almost angelic. Which, frankly, is how they get you.

"That’s an understatement," she says, warmth curling through the words before she lifts one shoulder in a faint, knowing shrug. "But be careful what you wish for. He might come home with a new set of skills and several words added to his vocabulary." Her mouth quirks as she looks back at Deimos, though the amusement softens almost immediately. For all the twins’ shenanigans—and there are, somehow, always shenanigans—they do seem to be good boys at their core. Or maybe it’s too early to tell.

She’s about to shake her head and tell him there isn’t much that needs doing when movement farther down the beach catches at the corner of her eye. The thing rolling up from the sand is wrong enough to pull the rest of her attention away at once: shells clicking together beneath its tangle of sticks and bone, pieces of it shifting and catching in the light as though the shore has gathered every sharp, discarded thing it could find and decided to make a problem out of them.

Frowning, Flora pulls one of her daggers free and sends it straight into the mess of sand and shells. The throw is quick and clean, the blade disappearing somewhere amid the tangled body before she lifts her hand to call it back. It returns to her palm obediently enough, but the creature barely seems to notice the interruption, still dragging itself forward in that awful, scraping roll. With a huff, Flora glances sideways at Deimos, the frown giving way to a grin that’s suddenly mischievous. "Think you can do any better?"

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Given how Deimos had grown up (allowed to roam wild, half-feral with mischief until he couldn’t any longer), the warning only amplified the light smile on his features. “That is fine. They might end up with the same.” He’d prefer his offspring to have a childhood full of wonder and ridiculousness, learning amidst the land and its constituents, rather than held down by the shadows Deimos already tried to keep held at bay. A hard line to follow, for the Sword anyway, but permitting some semblance of freedom would benefit them all – he hoped. “At least they can now,” he shrugged, purposefully not emphasizing on what he meant. Perhaps Flora had the same experiences; but she’d also been born during a war, and growing up in the middle of constant conflict had its own repercussions.

Regardless, the sudden appearance of the tangleweed was a distraction on its own merits. His brow arched, snorting a little under his breath as it seemed to roam into the sand with not a care in the world – but especially varied from all the ones he’d come across. “Have not seen one like that,” though, granted how often Rae or Frey put in niche additions into their cluster of wildlife, maybe they shouldn’t have been too surprised. New season, new creatures.

But as she chucked her knife into its presence, he granted a mischievous grin; recalling their own ventures of streamlining blades directly into Pierce’s figure. Plus, he was never above the hostile use of weaponry. The serrated fringes didn’t seem to leave much of an impact though, and he tilted his head, narrowing his eyes vaguely, as if putting his brief study to use. “I can try,” and he wrinkled his nose, before unfurling his fire incantations within a single breath, meant to engulf and extinguish the puff of sticks, shells, and bones.

DEIMOS

i could be the reason you can't sleep at night

Flora’s grin only brightens at that, delight sparking quick and wicked across her face at the thought of Erebos sending Carlo and Calan home with tricks of his own. They’re only her brothers, after all, which means she gets to enjoy the idea of their mutual corruption without having to take full parental responsibility for whatever comes of it later. That, as far as she’s concerned, is one of the few genuine perks of not being the one in charge of bedtime, discipline, or explaining why there is suddenly sand in someone’s shoes, pockets, and hair.

Deimos’s last comment has her smile shifting, though, the brightness going crooked before it settles quieter at one side of her mouth. "Yeah," she murmurs, nodding. "At least they can now." There’s no easy joke to hang over that without making it worse, and though Flora has made something of an art out of turning uncomfortable truths into something prettier and easier to hold, she lets this one rest between them as it is.

The strange tumble of shells and sticks and bones gives her somewhere else to put her attention a moment later, and Flora wrinkles her nose as she looks it over. "Me neither," she admits, taking another half-step back as it rolls and clicks across the sand. "Usually we get weird ones if we’ve had really big storms, but nothing like that."

Her daggers slide back into place once it’s clear her throw has done little more than offend the thing aesthetically, and when Deimos’s fire rushes out to swallow the mess of shore-scraps whole, Flora’s expression opens with immediate, shameless appreciation. The heat flashes against her skin, bright enough to make the shells gleam before the creature is engulfed, and she claps once, delighted. "Hot damn," she says, grinning broadly up at him. "Nicely done."

The smile lingers as she looks from the smoking remains back to Deimos, though something more thoughtful begins to gather behind her eyes. With a sigh, Flora shifts the clipboard against her side, not exactly self-pitying and not exactly casual either, but setting the thought down where he can see it. "Since becoming a demigod, I honestly feel weaker than I did before." She lets the admission trail for a moment, her brows lifting as the corner of her mouth curves again, this time with a clearer edge of invitation. "Buuuuut they do say if you want to be the best, you should train with the best, so.." Her grin turns suggestive, bright as a lure in clear water. "How about it? Do you have a bit longer?"

and the only solution was to stand and fight

In the back of his thoughts prior to instant flames and conflagrations, he figured he could recreate and sketch the tangleweed later, committing it to memory before he promptly set it alight. “Thank you,” and he gave a singular nod with the slight smile still remaining amongst his features, watching as the sticks and bramble disintegrated into ash.

The sigh sent his brow arching though, and he didn’t expect any of the following sentences to unfurl. Flora had that way about her though – surprises, unpredictable reaches. Much like her mother in those facets. If his eyes widened slightly at her admission of demigodhood, something he’d avoided because he’d always refused the very thought of chains, he pretended it didn’t occur, taking a breath and letting his gaze to residual, normal amusements. The bewilderment and concern had probably already landed with Remi and Ronin anyway. His tones gave a content rumble instead, because it'd been her own lot in life to pick and choose; no matter the misgivings of others. “Congratulations. I had not heard about it. Safrin?” What the lady of the stars could provide to another of her constituents seemed to have no bounds either – given how Hadama’s abilities had claimed many.

The compliment made him snort, but it never took much to persuade him into any sort of training. “I was going to linger around until the boys were done, so, I do have the time,” and he gave another glance their way, content to find them digging in the sand. When his gaze flicked back over to the Queen, his thoughts had already begun to contort and wrap around plausible courses. “I need to use my fire offensively to strengthen it,” but not if she didn’t have a means of defending herself – unless, like always, she had something else up her sleeve. “What did you have in mind?”

DEIMOS

i could be the reason you can't sleep at night

Flora beams before she can even think to make herself look modest about it, pride lighting across her face as easily as sun over water. "Yeah," she says, the word bright and simple, and then her grin turns a little more pointed, a little more hers. "Safrin."

For all that she’s well aware of how many complicated feelings that name can drag behind it for other people, there’s no hesitation in her voice. No apology, either. Flora has spent too much of her life being the daughter of demigods, the almost-queen, the almost-enough version of herself, to pretend that being chosen hasn’t settled somewhere deep beneath her skin like starlight finding a tidepool. Still, the shape of it isn’t exactly what she’d expected, and as her fingers tighten briefly around the edge of the clipboard, her smile tilts with the faintest edge of self-deprecation. "Apparently this is all part of it, where you feel weaker for a bit, so..."

The fact that Deimos has time has her expression sharpening at once, all that soft admission swept neatly behind something brighter and more dangerous. "Perfect." The clipboard goes into the sand with a decisive thunk, stabbed upright like the world’s least threatening battle standard, and Flora bends to slip out of her shoes, leaving them abandoned near it before darting back several paces across the beach.

Barefoot, with the sand giving just enough beneath her heels to make every movement feel like a negotiation, she turns back toward him and shakes out her hands as though she’s about to do something far more elegant than invite one of the most dangerous men she knows to attack her for practice. "I doubt I’m anywhere near fast enough to dodge your attacks," she admits, wrinkling her nose as if this is an inconvenience rather than a fairly serious concern, "but..." Her shoulders rise in a loose shrug, and her grin comes back quick and wicked. "It isn’t like we’re lacking healing water."

There’s a flutter in her stomach that isn’t quite fear, though it wears a few of the same colours. Anticipation, mostly. The sudden, electric awareness of her own body, of her weight on the balls of her feet, of the open beach around her and the glittering slice of sea beyond. Flora bounces her eyebrows at him in clear invitation, because if she gives herself another moment to think about it she might decide this is incredibly stupid, and unfortunately she’s already made the face that says she’s committed. "Go on, then." She shifts lightly to one side, eyes bright and fixed on him, ready to move the instant she has something to run from.

and the only solution was to stand and fight

"Safrin must be pleased with her choice," he relished with a wrinkle to his nose and a light grin for the Queen, extending the compliment where it was noteworthy and deserved. He hadn’t ever known Flora to hesitate – she’d owned her plans and calculations through each and every skirmish. To find her proud of her accomplishments wasn’t a surprise; it should’ve been immersed there – though the Sword would be the type to think she’d done much beforehand as well, that she wouldn’t need the title of a demigod to be regarded as something more. “So I have heard,” he granted with a light smile, presuming it would be worth it. “What did you get for powers?” Believing he’d be seeing them in action shortly, based on the initial approach to training.

So when she announced she’d simply be dodging his attacks, his eyes widened significantly. Deimos rarely looked like a deer in headlights, but the thought of her simply trying to maneuver around assaults signified deep apprehension and trepidations that had never quite left his bones. “You want to try and dodge them,” he deadpanned, once he’d returned to his senses and wondered where she’d left hers.

But given how he knew it wasn’t worth arguing the point, she already knew better, it’d be much like bickering and trying to reason with her mother. And gods, how many times he’d tried that. She was going to commit the actions anyway. On a very long sigh, he watched as she bounded and leapt across the sand, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “For the record, I think this is a bad idea.”

On those semblances and calculations, he churned a singular fireball into his grasp, hovering there along his hand. Thinking how best to broach the notions without ever actually hitting her, he aimed for a precise measure close to her ankles, lobbing it without ferocity and power behind it.

1/4

DEIMOS

i could be the reason you can't sleep at night

"I’d like to think so," Flora says, and though she tries for breezy, the pride in her smile is much too bright to pass as anything casual. Safrin’s approval isn’t something she’s ever likely to treat lightly, especially not now, not when the shape of it is still new enough to feel like starlight pressed beneath her skin rather than merely above her head. Still, at the question of powers, her grin turns sharp around the edges, pleased to have something to show for herself even if the full, glittering enormity of demigodhood hasn’t exactly arrived in a tidal wave. "Nothing crazy yet, but..." Her brows lift, playful and conspiratorial. "I’ll show you."

His deadpan makes her laugh before she can help it, because suddenly the Sword sounds less like Halo’s Warden and more like every responsible parent who has ever realized, far too late, that Flora has already made a decision. "Well, it isn’t like I can just tank them like my dad or fly away," she points out, spreading her hands as if this is all extremely reasonable and not at all the sort of thing that will end with her singed and smug in equal measure. Then she lifts one hand higher, waggling her fingers so that the rings catch faintly in the sun. "Besides, I can heal."

The first fireball comes low and close enough to make the heat bite at the air near her ankles, and Flora knows at once that if Deimos had meant to hit her, he would have. The realization is not especially comforting, but it is instructive; her body reacts before her pride can dress it up, a sharp little leap backward sending sand scattering beneath her bare feet as her breath catches hot in her throat.

She reaches for the new magic quickly. The memory of the strange tangleweed is still fresh enough to have edges: shells clicking together, sticks jutting from its body, bones woven through the middle of it like the shore had decided to make a trap out of everything sharp and abandoned. Flora grabs hold of that image and throws it outward, letting the illusion roll across the sand toward Deimos in a skittering rush of bone and shell and branch, all jagged movement and ugly intent.

At the same time, she bolts the other way, curls bouncing and feet digging into the loose sand as she sprints down the beach. It is not elegant, not even slightly, but elegance feels overrated when there is fire involved and a perfectly good fake monster to blame for being a more interesting target.

---

1/4
Uses her magic to make the tangleweed roll at Deimos again

Magic: I've Got the Receipts | Via touch with someone who was present, can replay via exact illusions any scene that has taken place IC.
Type: Grey | Rank: Mastered | Cost: Action

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Any of his objections were going to be met with the same sort of reasoning that got multitudes killed, but he knew better. Instead, he rolled his eyes, and would take great care to ensure none of his assaults actually hit. He could test her speed and agility without immediate death by fire, and weigh his own precision in avoidance.

She ran and the first launch did exactly as he’d compelled and commanded, missing, and sailing into the sand with a diminished semblance of embers and nothing more. Maintaining his position as she darted around, he waited for something, as she’d promised the display of new incantations, so when the tangleweed was suddenly back into its sharp fruition, he thought perhaps she’d orchestrated a means of reconstruction, recreation. He’d been immersed in illusion enchantments before, especially in caves evading Neron, but one could never be certain until they mustered further actions.

Calculating, he quirked a small smile in her direction before snagging at his magic again; this time amplifying it into two fireballs. One he sent intentionally towards the skittering brush of bone and shell, and the other, closer to the top of her head – but far too high to do any matter of damage; just enough to make her dodge, move, and sway.

2/4

Uses fire magic to send one fireball towards the illusion!tangleweed and one well over the top of Flora's head.

DEIMOS