[Training] [se] I wanted them to fear me

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Melita hadn’t expected death – not so soon. When one had escaped it for so many years, perhaps they’d thought themselves infallible. Or at least, in her case, every bit of a gritty, determined, steadfast survivor. Helovia hadn’t killed her. Neither had the Rift, though both lands had taken something she cherished and beloved. Caido, up until recently, hadn’t robbed her of life either.

And the funny thing about it all was that it made her think. Gave her pause. Reflection. Something very few moments did.

Once she drifted away from the tournament, to the screams, shouts, confusion, victories, and defeats, or gave over to the coddling aspects of Ru and Jata, she sat upon the nearest rock, using her toe to trace lines in the sand. Quiet, contemplative, uncertain, unsure, she felt like an unsteady wave in a realm of currents. Fangorn sat curled in her arms, his vines enveloping over her skin, as if lost too or perhaps afraid he’d lost her, with Sila hovering nearby. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to both, but couldn’t name the reason for the apology. For her arrogance? For her inability to see it coming? For the loss they had to endure and then rebury?

She had no name for that either, but it felt a lot like regret.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

The Tournament had been riveting beyond even Koa's wildest dreams, but very little could top the flip-flop of collective panic as Melita the Honeybee appeared to die - only to pop up minutes later, like some kind of revenant daisy. Slack-jawed and transfixed, the young Dragoon could do nothing but watch as his heroes swarmed the arena, mounting rescues and rushing to aid. Mel had risen, and the fights had gone on, and the participants had done an incredibly job of demonstrating their collective worthiness to be considered demigod (or adjacent).

It left Koa feeling a little breathless, and a little bit bereft.

Maybe that's why he skipped the initial afterparty, choosing instead to set off down the beach on his own. Normally he would have basked in the revelry and reverence, in the living legends and beaming smiles. But in a post-Yeet world Koa finds it hard to be around that much strength, to be reminded of all he is not. It's a lot of Big Feelings he isn't ready to parse, and he thinks it best that he's alone until he can swallow them down. Because that's the answer, right? Suppress the trauma? Bury the fear?

Anyway.

Of course, the world has other plans. Because immediately after settling on his night of solitude does he spot Melita sitting on a nearby stone, her companions held close as they watch the sea. And though it seems rather apparent that she, too, has not come for company, it would be heckin' rude not to say hi now, right? With Pip at his heels Koa approaches the demigod, a hand raised in greeting as he calls out, "Hey, Miss Melita!"

And then, because he feels suddenly rather awkward and doesn't know what he is supposed to say to someone who died earlier, Koa adds a bright and boyish, "It's good to see you looking so alive."

Koa Carpenter

Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Eventually, Melita knew she’d have to carry on about the day. Pretend as if nothing happened. Maneuver around the stares, stories, and stanzas more so than ever before, make her way through plazas and markets, back to enthrall over latest victories and whatever else happened at the tournament. For now though, her mind was in a flux, and sitting and stewing silently on the rock was all she had left in her.

Fangorn nudged her though, and Sila hovered out a tune, and her head raised to see Koa and Pip approaching. She wouldn’t lie, the notion of visitors right now made her feel slightly ill and willing to retreat back into herself, the forest, or the sea, and the words thereafter clambered and itched down her ribcage more than once. “Oh, hey,” she called back, rather unenthusiastic, uncertain how to react when one has died, then lived, all within a few moments. “Thanks,” came on a half-smile, because she didn’t know what else to say, and her eyes thought about drifting back to the shoreline, or concentrating on something Ludo had said.

To not be so serious.

Mulish at herself, her head turned back to Koa instead. “Did you see it?” How she’d perished within a single god damn bolt of electricity?

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

Yeah, turns out there's not a standard guidebook titled Conversations With Recent Dead People For Dummies. Or maybe there is, but we all know Koa isn't much of a reader. Clearly Mel is Going Through Something, and a more emotionally evolved human might leave her to do so in peace.

Koa plops down into the sand, casual as a basking seal.

He considers lying and then thinks better, because what's the point in that? "We did," the younger man confirms, sweeping a stick into calloused hands. "Wasn't very fucking sportsmanlike. " Theres exaggerated disdain in his voice, the way he rolls his eyes. "I've been in more spars than I can count, and the first rule is to be respectful. Have some give and take, y'know? Nobody wants to fight a one-hit wonder twice." He shrugs, raising a hand to shield his eyes as he looks to Mel for a response.

Koa Carpenter

Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

He plopped down nearby, and she didn’t know what to do with it – other than perhaps sink into the notions of someone close. Of either having to be strong, put on a brave face, or fall apart all within arm’s reach of another. She wasn’t certain she liked any of those options, and instead took to glaring at the back of his head, fingers restlessly combing over one another or toying with a pebble between her palm and digits.

So she waited instead, knowing multitudes had seen, having no recollection of her family racing out or the constant stirring of apologies. There’d only been fragments of souls she’d known and then the return of the living world – stirred in facets of sudden grief and the weight of loss.

Her eyes went down to the sand, then along his shoulders, to where his eyes were shaded and watching her. She couldn’t help but laugh, and shrug, flicking the tiny stone away from her. “Well, he can go fight Hadama now instead.” She wasn’t even certain if she had hard feelings towards Sah now, struggling to analyze the portions. “Did he use something else? He’d never been that potent against me before.”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

"Yeah, then go pound sand." Mel's laugh has his grin widening, the boy clearly pleased with his (so far) positive effect on her mood. Pip rolls over, wriggling worm-like in an attempt to get Silas or Fangorn's attention, her dark body a river of oil in the sand. Prodding the dragon's stomach gently with his stick, Koa feels his smile shift to a frown. "I mean- just the lighting, far as I could tell. But I can't say I know much about his capabilities outside of that. Maybe mageglass?" he adds, recalling some snippet of information learned long ago. "Heard it makes magic stronger, though I've never actually seen it used."

Pip, who has been fighting gleefully with the stick, now snatches it to turn into an undersized kicker toy. Shaking his head ruefully, Koa shifts his attention fully to Mel, brain straining to sort out what else he can say. The obvious things - I'm glad you're alive, what did you see when you died? - feel too near to look at closely, too personal for him to touch without being invited first. So he chooses something lighter, if not less earnest: "Honestly? The biggest bummer was how quick it ended." Ok, second biggest. "I really wanted to see what you were gonna do. Y'know, now that you're a demigod and all."

He winks, perking up as a thought occurs to him. "Oh! Hey! You know what this means?" With the sort of shit-eating-grin that can only precede something awful, Koa pauses pregnantly before announcing: "Now your legend title could be The Honey-zomb-bee!"

That's your cue, Melita. Go ahead and kill him now.

Koa Carpenter

Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

She laughed again; a wild and raucous thing out of the melancholic void. Fangorn and Sila found Pip’s antics amusing too, though Sila slid herself closer to the Honeybee, rather than participate. The vampire gourd snaked his vines around, clearly trying to entice some form of play, but Melita’s attention was focused on words and potentials.

Mageglass pissed her off, and she’d keep that in the back of her mind for when she confronted him at the next available opportunity. Whether or not it was true didn’t quite matter to her – but rage did, and it lifted her up from all the parallels of death and straight into defiance.

Koa even went so far as catering to her ego, and though it was fragile at the moment, her head tilted with a wry smile. “Yeah, it could’ve been something,” was uttered wistfully, as if she’d missed a great moment of warfare, rather than a very brief skirmish.

The joke though made her grimace. “Gods, just for that, watch this -,” which should’ve been something really neat and triumphant and bitchin’. What she received, as she unfurled her fist, was a rather loud round of applause from nowhere and everywhere. Then she sighed.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

Fangorn's vines are met with gently snapping teeth, Pipsqueak more than eager to abandon her stick in favor of the pumpkin. Still supine, she scrambles and kicks against the tendrils, trying to draw the gourd in closer. Koa's satisfied to leave her to it, trusting the older companion won't allow his dragon to get too violent. And this time, at least, she knows better than to try and bring fire in a plant play-fight.

The pun lands as well as he could hope, which is to say, not well. Yeah, he deserves the groan, but it does nothing to dim his self-satisfaction. If anything the boy's grin widens at the response as he straightens up, eager to see the promised repayment and demonstration of Melita's skills. A sudden burst of applause from around them has him starting in surprise, looking around to see its source- and, of course, finding none.

Bemused, he turns back to the Honeybee, eyebrows raised in puzzlement. "Was that... you?" He's a little underwhelmed, but he's not going to let her know. Pursing his lips speculatively, the Dragoon tilts his head. "That's a useful trick for the battlefield. Very distracting." Humor crinkles the corner of his eyes, betraying the serious facade that Koa's trying hard to maintain.

Koa Carpenter

Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Outrightly offended that the dragon would try to bite his vines, the tendrils quickly receded and he grumbled low; a warning, before heading towards the back portions of Melita’s preferred boulder and waiting – cautiously.

She rolled her eyes at the reaction of the applause, which was fair, but didn’t mean she couldn’t grumble about that too. “Yeah,” and she waved her hand, a promise of better things when given the opportunity. And if not, she’d probably just use her arrows and shoot something. She dropped off the rock though, granting herself some space between her and the dragoon. “Prepare yourself anyway,” she obliged with a wrinkle to her nose, because yeah, it’d be fucking hard to fight applause, but there were other tricks up her sleeve.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

Clearly gourds and dragons play differently, a lesson Pip has yet to learn. Not fully understanding what she has done wrong, the dragonling emits a piteous croon as she flips onto her belly, gazing forlornly to where Fangorn has retreated. Still low to the ground, she slithers forward, wrapping cautiously around the boulder in submissive, hopeful posture. Much like a kitten who has not learned her place, she extends a paw slowly and deliberately toward Fangorn, though whether she's looking to boop the pumpkin or be smacked back into place is truly anyone's guess.

Koa, too, has been taken aback by a change in the rules, though he handles the shift with far more grace than his fluffy companion. The abrupt switch from idle chatter to impending combat isn't something the Dragoon expected, but it also feels like the logical next step. "Ah, punching things. An excellent choice," he grins playfully, raising up his fists and sinking down to a defensive stance. Having brought nothing along with him weapon-wise, Koa knows he's grossly outclassed, but honestly, when is he not?

He extends a hand and curls his fingers in the universal gesture of come at me. "Let's see what you got, Zombee." Mel won't kill him, probably, and if she does? Well, Ronin's still nearby.

Koa Carpenter

Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

This might’ve been the exact moment prompting Sila to unfurl something; given Melita was occupied, and Fangorn was pouting. Angling upon the top proportion of the boulder, she glanced at Pip, and unfurled the slightest hint of smoke – just enough to reconcile a ceasefire between the pair. Perhaps.

And as for punching things…Melita had no intention. Her grin was poised and Cheshire, entirely mercurial in the wake of death, revival, and shifting, tempestuous edges. “Nah. I wouldn’t have punched Sah. Didn’t you want to see what I was capable of?”

He could get whatever he needed, she supposed, giving a rough estimate of time before applying herself.

Which, unfortunately, met the same end as the last time she’d tried with Flora – punching herself right in the knee. “Gods sakes,” she muttered, nose wrinkling. “Problem is I don’t know what it’s going to do most,” okay, all, “of the time.” Not to worry Koa, she'll probably end up wrecking herself before even getting close to you.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

It's enough time for him to pull out his boxing wraps and tie them on, the ring already having been in place. Not much more, but then again, Koa's rather lacking as far as baubles and treasures go. Maybe if someone could finish their quests in a timely manner it would be different, but the best laid plans and the passage of time means that here we are.

Though it doesn't seem he'll be needing armor anytime soon. "I thought we weren't punching," Koa remarks dryly as Mel proceeds to do just that, except instead of attacking him, she's punching her own leg. Bemused but beginning to understand, the Dragoon tilts his head. "So... you basically call on magic and it does something totally random? Guessing that's a Ludo thing?" It sounds quite like some Ludo shit, the kind of nonsense that led his mother to love the raggedy god.

"How's it feel, anyway? Being a demigod?" Koa jabs forward as he talks, because not all of us can be interesting and random, Mel. Some of us have nothing but our fists, and little zappy rings we've chosen not to use because it seems a little insensitive to invoke lightning right after the whole just got electrocuted to death thing.

Koa Carpenter

Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Frustrated, and opting to blow a piece of crimson hair out of her face, she muttered and mumbled something akin to “Yeah. I haven’t figured out the limitations or everything yet.” Save for now punching herself twice.

Except for this time, when she unfurls something from her hand, the invisible, nearly intangible layers were cast into distinct and covert measures – and they’d be slinging in Koa’s direction, intending to reduce valuable proponents of strength and ease.

Not seeing it, yet anyway, the Honeybee huffed again, pondering over the inquiry. “Like, I still feel strong? But I lost some of that, clearly, because normally I never would have succumbed to Sah.” Her nose wrinkled, recalling Ronin’s words right after, and she sighed, a long draw of her shoulders following in a shrug. “And so far Ludo has only told me to make sure everyone isn’t so serious.” And to steal Koa’s shoelaces, but that would come with time.

To which she turned left, pivoting as he aimed to strike, pondering if she should be drawing her bow instead. His fist came fairly close to her arm, but she snaked away, still fast, still enduring.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

Koa doesn't see it, either, but he feels it, a choking, clawing, bone-deep exhaustion that settles on him thick as dust. A second ago he'd been fresh and eager; now all at once he feels himself beset by fatigue, and rather wanting a nap. At first he tries to shrug it off, ignoring the invisible, crippling wound.

"I've heard about that - in school they told us that when a mortal becomes a demigod they're like, reforged. So they tend to be more vulnerable, shortly afterwards." This had been in reference specifically to the fact that an Ascended demigod would be easiest to kill shortly after being chosen, but he doesn't add that bit.

"Whatever the fuck you did last time worked." He comes back to a defensive position, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to ease the ache. "I feel like I've been kicked by an Ursur." He's breathing heavily already, the words having taken more oxygen from his lungs than they should. It hurts, despite, again, the fact that he'd been perfectly fine a moment before, that she hasn't touched him at all. Koa grits his teeth, aiming another punch - this time, with the intention of healing himself, should it hit.

Koa Carpenter

Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams