[SE] Guess bein' happy is just easier said than done

I will be your lighthouse

The motion of the canteen drew his gaze up, and like a fool he forgot the plate, eager to catch her offering. He grabbed it easily, but on his knees his plate quivered, and in an overcorrection he fumbled for it. It fell sideways. His knees grabbed for it, and like a catapult it snapped between his legs and shot eggs freely. Goose perked up and surged towards them, dropping his driftwood duck momentarily as he gobbled them down.

"Shit," Iskra said, setting the plate on the ground beside him like it was a loaded gun. Her words settled into him easily, as her voice always would, but he also had to peel the jam-side down toast off his pant-leg. He made a face as he unscrewed the canteen top, the water soaking his leg as he ran his fingers back and forth over the sticky residue. When he was satisfied, he brought the rim of the bottle to his lips, drinking like a desert-lost man. At least the movements gave him somewhere to expend that anxious energy, though a flush of embarrassment hid in his cheeks.

"I don't think anyone could," he said softly as he brought the canteen down, wiping the water from his chin on the back of a hand. "Tell you what to do, I mean." He smiled, stiffly. He also wasn't sure she'd really let anyone see her not so strong moments. Hell, even he tried not to let anyone see, he was just bad at it. "I haven't given up, you know." he said gently, as if any additional force might break the truth in it. "Trying to be better. To be alive." This helped. He could not simply shrug off the years of depression and rot like a coat, wallowing one moment then his boyish self the next, but this was one more layer peeled away to let his light shine through a bit brighter. "Whether you need it or not, to decide to be around me. I need it... and I'll keep working on it." Purpose? Did he need more than her, one of the few beacons left in his life?

Iskra

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

The combined motions of the canteen, the plate, the fallen eggs, and the dog gobbling it all away was more than she could take. In a flash, she was drawing her hand up over her mouth to try and hide, smother, the incoming bout of laughter, but it managed to burst away regardless. Never one for multitudes of self-control, the impulse quickly took over, and waves of calm, composure, and defiance veered away for amusements and indulgence; overly bright. "Fucking ridiculous,” she uttered, trying to quiet herself and eat the last of her toast and eggs. “Honestly.”

As for the other comments, she tried to rein it in again, taking a long breath and wiping a vacant tear of laughter out of the corner of her eye. “I mean, they’ve tried,” and she shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’ve listened.”

But then her brows furrowed at his next response, head tilting, trying to figure out what he meant before he parsed it further. That he wasn’t tossing his whole life away – that there were other figments and fragments still there, not buried or mired or tossed aside. “Well, good. What have you been working on lately?” Since they were playing catch-up of sorts. His last statement though hastened along – bridging some primordial bitterness lodged in her ribs. “You’re the one that took off, not me. I never had any issue being around you.” Melancholic and brooding or not. Which might've been her way of saying she'd linger as long as he was willing - but in her own caustic mannerisms.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

I will be your lighthouse

He stilled in his abashed attempts to scrub the residue from his pants. As if he'd just encountered something rare, he froze, his breath held behind his teeth for fear that even that noise would rupture the quiet of the moment and ruin the impossible find. Like a living creature, her laughter moved around him, rested upon him, settled into him. Water to parched soil, it nourished the portions of him that had become faded and frail. It was a light that chased back the darkness with its fierceness, a warmth that won out over the cold in its kindness, and he ached for it. It had been some time since he'd heard it, longer yet that he was its source, intended or not.

He smiled then, remembering what it was not to be so broken, and more importantly, not to be so destructive.

So he eased, the hard words choked out and pulled back in, the edges smoother with each tide in and out of him. Yet her question left him poised to falter once more, his cracks still visible beneath the glue he was desperately piecing himself back together with, the glue she was handing him. "I uh—not much." he admitted. Not enough part of him insisted, the glow of her laughter dimmed with time, letting the darkness fold back in. "I mean, I'm here, looking for flowers. I've yet to find any though." The story of most who searched these woods, but in the weight of all his other failures, it felt like another curse laid upon him. "I still work up in Halo—logging mostly. Something steady. Honest." It was something, wasn't it? He had a home, he had a job. He was trying, usually.

His lips pressed together at her pointed rebuke. "I know," he acquiesced, huffing softly. "But I think I'm done. Running." He said it softly, like a promise he wasn’t sure he had the right to make—but wanted to believe in anyway.

He glanced at Goose as the dog had finished vacuuming up his mistake and flopped next to his newly acquired duck. He rubbed the back of his neck, shame curling beneath his skin. Selfish, as always. "What about you?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes. "There’s gotta be a lot to this new… demi-god status?"

Iskra

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Unaware of some of her effects, Melita hummed a little under her breath as she snagged at Fangorn and Sila, ensured they’d both had enough and then took another swig from her canteen. Iskra’s admittance drew her attention back to him though, with the same sort of arched indulgence of her brow, trying to mire through everything left unsaid. “I haven’t found any either,” she shrugged – trying to make light of the circumstances of not being particularly helpful – unless, of course, she was shooting arrows at gods damned yetis and trying to make sure no one died on her watch. The latter hadn’t gone well.

It sounded as though he maintained some semblance of a routine though, and she nodded, content with that. As far as his running, perhaps the rest would remain to be seen – for all his promises, she still wondered if he’d balk and bolt at the first opportunity.

Her own motivations drew her sight along the trees, watching branches maneuver under the push and pull of the wind. “Well, Ludo wanted me to spread some fun and chaos around. Said everything and everyone was too serious.” Which was a justifiable notion, given the heavy ambushing of Family nonsense at any given turn. She’d yet to fully embark into Flora’s recent actions, and still pretended to keep her head down, given how her name had been broadcast too. “So I’ve been doing some games and shit to entertain the masses. Had water balloon fights in Stormbreak,” and she began ticking them off on her fingers, one by one. “Hide and seek in the Greatwood. Big duck hunt in the Grounds…,” rolling her shoulders again, she considered other portions. What wasn't said was just how chaotic each multitude had become - from fights with citizens, irritating Karens, and small fires. “Means I’ll probably have to bug Halo at some point or another soon.”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

I will be your lighthouse

He watched the wind drift past them and shuffle her hair. The strands caught the forest light like spun honey, glowing with an undeniable brilliance. He smiled, content enough to sit here for hours and simply be with her. "Ludo might be the wisest of them all," Iskra murmured. He did not often pay the gods much thought, as they weren't prone to do much the same for him. He found it easy to agree with Ludo's sentiments though, and easier still to admire the champion he'd chosen.

Leaning forward, Iskra propped his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands as he listened, imagining the tales she listed. A smile shaped itself to his face and stayed there, soft and steady. "Your adventures sound much more thrilling," he admitted, exhaling wistfully. To think of all he could have been doing with his time over these years... So much time lost, when he could’ve been... living. "You must come to Halo!" he agreed, sitting up suddenly as the thought of it ignited excitement. "I mean, you're always welcome. The people could certainly use some cheering up. They're good folk, just a bit rough around the edges. The cold does that, I think." He chuckled, picturing the curmudgeonly shopkeepers. "You could host some sled dog racing! Or, there's always snowball fights, of course. Ice skating, sleigh rides, icicle growing—oh! And we have the best hot chocolate, hands down."

He lost himself for a moment, imagining all that could be. All the things they could do—whether with the city or just the two of them. For Ludo. Or just... because. Then he faltered. The words had kept coming, tumbling over one another, until he realized how many pictures he’d painted with her in them. His breath hitched the slightest bit, and he glanced away, suddenly unsure if he’d gone too far. He forgot himself and began dreaming, and it didn't seem fair to assume she'd be there for all of it. "I mean... only if you want to. If those sound like good ideas, or something that fits with what you need to do." When his eyes found hers again, the smile was still there—small and uncertain, but hopeful all the same.

Iskra

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

She’d be inclined to agree with his sentiment, out of loyalty alone, but settled for a very Cheshire grin instead. Her smile stayed there as she watched him become far more animated – portions of the old Iskra, under all those layers of grief and guilt, resting her elbows on her knees as her hands cupped her chin. That had been her friend all those years ago, before running and floundering and suffering and whatever else they had done in the interim. She wouldn’t trade any portions of him away – they all changed, evolved, alternated from what they’d been; experiences chiseled and carved and found niches within ribcages that could only be whittled by wounds. But it was nice to know that beneath those boundaries, there was still a lot of light. Just had to dust off the darkness. “Thrilling and ridiculous,” she added, granting another whimsical and light laugh.

The possibilities sounded like hilarious things too; she wouldn’t know the first fucking thing about sled dog racing or ice skating, but there was some compelling manifestations in snowball fights. Eerily similar to water balloons, but probably packed more of a punch. Her mind twisted and turned on different degrees and factions – humming a little under her breath as her eyes went elsewhere, chasing down the whims of wind as she conjured and imagined all sorts of parameters. “They seemed like good folk, the last time I was there. But I’d also just helped with the whole yeti fiasco, so,” they’d probably been either alarmed, surprised, or just grateful those portions of danger had ended – even it had been a complete disaster. She hadn’t stayed long either – just enough time for her uncle to revive Zavien, snag at Alys’s unfortunate companion, and breeze out. “I could see where they’d need a bit of fun though.” Especially in that place – not for its lack of things, but the downright cold.

Or maybe she was just used to the warmth of Torchline; spoiled by it all.

Not thinking he’d overstepped at all, she considered her options. “I’ll think about it.” Opting to peruse further bedlam, she teased and taunted from afar – tilting her head a fraction so her gilded gaze rested back on him – probably a cause for concern on the impending offer. “I have my own skyboat now too. Let me know if you ever want a ride somewhere.” Or if he had a deathwish.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

I will be your lighthouse

Her response was a relief to the nerves that prickled along his heart, the ones that had needled in with the quiet fear that she'd laugh off his invitation, or let it drift past like it meant nothing at all. It eased his smile more, and he nodded. While it wasn't a yes, it also wasn't a no, and he could live with that. "Excellent. I have extra coats and things if you need them when you come, although we are nearing the warmest season anyway." It was a quiet bid that her visit be sooner rather than later, though she'd not really promised anything at all yet. He held onto the hope that she would, and he'd do whatever he could to make that more of a reality.

"Oh?" he asked, a bit surprised at her next reveal. "You're starting to sound a bit like the pirates we used to play pretend as. I think you made me walk the plank on more than one occasion." He chuckled as the memory spread like warmth through him, rare and golden. So much of Torchline’s past had become a shadow in his mind, but that moment, her voice calling out and the splash of waves as he balanced on some gathered driftwood, that moment remained bright. It was the first time he'd thought of Torchline in a positive light for a decade. "Do you employ a captain or would I be at the mercy of your driving skills?" he asked teasingly. "Seems like it would be difficult to steer," he admitted, the curiosity rising. "All I've practiced with are dog sleds and logging mule carts. The odd horseback trip here and there." He actually couldn't recall if he'd been on a boat at all, sea or air. "Do you get... air sick?" he wondered aloud. He leaned forward again, elbows on knees and chin back in his palm. Maybe he’d never ridden a skyboat, but this, this easy orbit around her voice and her stories, felt like flying.

Iskra

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

“Warmest season – didn’t know that was a thing in Halo.” To which she laughed – though she didn’t know much about the climate and region overall. “Maybe you could give me a tour. Ooh, or I drive us around and you just point out the highlights.” A sneaky little grin formed on her features again, machinations and plans forming that weren’t diabolical means to an end or trying to cease the Family from gaining ground everywhere.

Though, that was another portion on her mind.

Ignoring it for the rummaging around of amusements, she gave a cackle at the pirates comment. She could almost hear Jack snorting and sneering nearby (“smugglers, not pirates”). She curled her knees up to her chest, grinning once more, as she wrapped her hands around her legs. “I still think it’d be way more fun to be a sea monster.” Snagging at prey? Throwing them around? Being an irritating boss of the ocean? A beautiful thing to uphold.

His own chuckles spread over the area, and she sighed a little; wistful and hopeful. “Oh, I’m the captain.” So yes, he’d be at her mercy. “I’m amazing at steering. And going fast.” It was just the landings weren’t so great. But there was plenty of snow to land in amidst Halo.

Fangorn waved his vines around in a ‘don’t do it man’ sort of warning and Sila visibly cringed while Melita continued talking. “Nah – I never have anyway. Maybe some do, like when people get seasick?”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

I will be your lighthouse

Her growing excitement instilled a similar buzz in him, a steady race back towards normal, or what it used to be once upon a time. Further still, that seemed to be a plan to visit him after all. He was positively beaming then, his cheeks nearly in pain from the smile he wielded in response to her own.

Goose, tiring of his duck for the time being, popped up and sauntered into the tent, as if for all the world he owned the thing. Iskra barely noticed, his attention rapt on Melita as her laughter thundered through him and set his heart racing wildly after it. How long could it have been like this? Sharing this joy, easing burdens by just existing together? What the fuck had he been doing this whole time? She should have torched him, his ass deserved it for how thick he'd become. It was so clear now, with her, and it felt ridiculously simple. Yet, that fear still flittered like a trapped bird in some dark corner of his chest. When she left, would it all come creeping back in? Was he strong enough to stay standing, bright and defiant in the abyss of grief, without her?

Maybe it never has to end.
Maybe they could just go on, like this, forever.

Her newfound laughter reeled his thoughts back in, grounded him to the now when he'd started to drift into the what-if. The waving of tendrils took his gaze from her for a moment, the gourd's silent warning causing laughter to erupt from Iskra. "I would sail anywhere with you," he admitted freely, risk to his life or not. The laughter quieted, but his eyes held her, seriousness there. He had done so much wrong, he had so much to make up for, especially to her. He would stand beside her, whenever and wherever he could.

At the moment, Goose trotted out of the tent, Iskra's shirt in tow as he carried it in his mouth. It drug across the ground, trampled a few times by a wayward paw, and some threads trailed at the very end, suggesting Goose had been working on it inside the tent first before deciding to show off his trophy. "HEY!" Iskra barked, jumping up to his feet. "That's my fucking shirt you thief! I've been looking for that all morning!" All morning, being the very few minutes he'd been awake before Mel came and distracted him. Goose, glancing over his shoulder at Iskra's ire, began to move faster. "Come back!" Iskra growled, beginning to give chase around the campsite.

Iskra

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

With plots and plans in motion, her impulsive mind spun around and around, considering and weighing out the options for impending amusements set aside in Halo. And even then, there was a brief aside of other portions, that she didn’t give voice to and promptly left unsettled in her chest. No need for enticements when there were no guarantees, even as he uttered those words and her head snapped back to him, fighting off something wayward along her cheeks and would ultimately brush off as the wind. “Careful – I’ll hold you to that,” she offered instead, a cheeky grin to cover up the other modicums.

Thereafter though, there didn’t seem to be opportunities for further sentimentalities, because Goose was on the run – with the aforementioned shirt that really had lost all merit and need by now. She could’ve helped, maybe, but instead she sat on her rock and laughed – letting it echo and willow and flare, while Sila and Fangorn grimaced.

Only as the dog became faster around limbs and brush did she finally take some pity on Iskra and snagged into her bag for another duck (light blue; very reminiscent of the ocean). Crouching and giving it a quick squeeze, so it let out a high-pitched squeak, she crooned in response, waving it around. “Over here Goose! Don’t you want this? I’ll trade you.”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

I will be your lighthouse

He was far too hungover to be exercising like this. With each turn and dash, his anger flared, Goose’s name hurled like a curse every time he dodged another grab. The dog, of course, was overjoyed he'd finally convinced the woodcutter to a group game.

At the long and shrill squeak of a duck in Melita's hand, the dog froze, body tall and taut with energy. His ears perked towards her direction, and after a brief pause he bounded over, the shirt abandoned instantly in place of the newfound chew toy. Which, for some reason, was better than the other duck he'd already been given. He shook it vigorously once he had it, and carried it over to Fangorn, showing it off between his paws and bowing in an enticement to play.

Iskra had stilled, afraid to interrupt and send Goose dashing off again. Once his shirt was discarded at Mel's feet, he sighed and closed the distance, one arm on his hip where a stitch had formed in his side, catching with each breath. He grimaced against it as he bent down to retrieve the sorry excuse for a shirt. "Thanks," he muttered to Mel, grateful, but still edged with annoyance for the damn dog's antics. He shook it off to the side, trying to keep the debris away from them, and pulled it over his head after righting it. One of the buttons was missing and the collar was half-consumed on the left side, threads trailing like jellyfish tentacles in a current. "Gods, this was one of my favorites Goose!" He huffed through his nose and leaned into a seat near Mel. He sank onto the dirt and leaf litter, preferring to have the log like a backrest behind him, and feeling defeated enough by his hound that sitting on the ground felt more fitting.

His anger gradually dispersed; something he'd never been able to grip long, like it was nothing more than sand spilling through his hand. "That feels like every day," he laughed in complaint to her, pulling at the back of his neck as if that might relieve the tension of his throbbing head. "Yours I'm sure are much more obedient" He glanced past her to the gourd and the dragon, taking a moment to really see them—something he hadn’t managed before, too clouded by everything else.

Iskra

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Content with the end result, except she’d been intending to also steal Iskra’s shirt, she didn’t bother hiding her amusement with the antics, eternally delighted with the sprigs of chaos flickering here and there. Downright inspired really; she and Goose would get along just fine.

So while Fangorn waved his vines about at the dog, and intentionally pretended to snag at the duck, Sila floated upward, before landing in the Honeybee’s lap as she opted to sit down next to Iskra – eyes narrowing on closer inspection. If he noticed he was being scrutinized, as she wasn’t hiding it well, then so be it; head tilting vaguely and running over tattoos she hadn’t deciphered yet.

Broken out of her notions by his glance at her companions, she snorted. Pointing at the vampire gourd, she at least admitted what everyone else already knew. “He’s the brains of the operation,” and the most reasonable out of the three of them – because gods knew it wasn’t going to be her. Stroking over Sila’s bronze scales, she grinned again. “And she’s shy, but very clever too. Grown and matured a lot.” Humming a little, she tracked antics of dog and pumpkin, contemplating and considering – but ending up with teasing notions instead. “You could always get yourself a unicorn.”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

I will be your lighthouse

Goose gave a playful growl as he grabbed back for the duck and tried to keep it for himself anytime Fangorn's vines got close. This was very much a look but don't touch type of shared toy experience.

Iskra's eyes tracked the dragon as Sila drifted into Mel's lap. She was another reminder of how much Mel had changed out there beyond his notice, a stranger to him, but nestled deeply alongside Mel's heart, as he'd once been so very long ago. He watched her curiously, wondering if she had a habit of stealing Mel's shirts, and all the while he could feel the weight of that discerning draconic stare measuring him. If he wasn't found worthy in her eyes, he might be roasted. He stiffened slightly, and had to break his gaze away from the reptilian one.

Preferring to watch the gourd as he and Goose played, Iskra laughed a bit at Mel's explanations of their dynamics. Though, he was certain she was joking about the vampire gourd being the brains of the operation. Calling someone a gourd-head was usually an insult to their intelligence. He glanced at her for confirmation, but when he searched the features of her face, he could not detect any cleverly guarded humor there. He may have forgotten to keep looking for it. His dark eyes got a bit lost as they instead found the bright shine of her amber eyes, dancing with each laugh, framed by a halo of flame-touched hair. He traced the turn of her sun-kissed nose as it dropped to those soft, smiling lips. He wondered what it would be like to taste them, to—he blinked, then glanced away, the empty woods away from her suddenly exceedingly interesting. Was that a Woodpecker over yonder?

It was a mistake sitting this close to her. It was a mistake even thinking about her, in any manner. He was incapable of getting out of bed some days, he did not deserve to dream of what it was like to lay her in one. Stupid, selfish, asshole.

He pushed off the log abruptly, but with no where to go, he just began to find things to do, dishes to gather and the like. "Yeah," he said quietly in response to her idea, unwilling to look at her. "I'm a bit wary of the horn, to tell the truth." He preferred the comfort of Goose's teeth over the tall animals with their hooves and their pride. "Do you ride?" he asked absently, words to keep the silence from pressing in, something to distract him from the slew of curses he was chanting in his mind. "Er—I guess you sail instead? Nevermind..."

Iskra

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Fangorn gave a rumbling growl and displayed all his vampire gourd prowess by revealing his fangs – glorifying his eerie and enigmatic existence by trying to tag the dog with his vines. Maybe he could scare the canine into dropping it.

Meanwhile – Melita had always considered Sila a portion, a reminder, of home - of Dragon’s Throat with leather wings outstretched above, pockets of an oasis, and crimson sand. Torchline would never be the same, that much she knew and understood, but it was pieces and portions reminiscent of things she couldn’t have again. And so her bronze companion was too; potent and lethal but quiet, waiting for opportunities, eager for when the moment struck. Except Sila was sweet where Melita had been rancorous and bitter; filling in the holes and gaps for greater, grander things.

Giving the little dragon another stroke on her head, the Honeybee watched the antics, but then arched a brow in Iskra’s direction as he seemed to barrel off and away – uncertain as to why, but blinking it aside. Maybe she’d done something to offend. Wouldn’t be the first or the last time. Shrugging inwardly, perhaps to make herself feel better about the interaction, her head tilted again, regarding him as he roamed around. “Eh, a little, but not my favorite mode of travel.” Unless it was on something big and scary and she could intimidate a whole lot by driving through crowds with it. “I still prefer the skyboat method. But I have a little anklet I got from the Fae ages ago so I can travel on water too.” By foot; skimming over the surface as if she owned the place. To which she proudly grinned, enjoying sedition against the laws of physics.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life