[SE] If I hit the bottom will I break?

melita

and she recklessly plays with matches

Very content to be nothing more than a shiv in someone’s side, Melita waited out the exchange while still making her way through her bag, as if pondering over which weapon would suit the man best. Knocking him upside the head with her staff? Taking off a finger with one of her daggers?

It was almost a shame when the man saw she wasn’t bluffing, continuing in agreements and accord. She still gave him a look as they began walking away, for she wouldn’t forget the moment, before they bounded off and away, and she hummed under her breath at the thought of tortillas. “Good,” she grinned, some portions edged in malice as she glanced back at Iskra. “Lots of things. But he probably figured I’d set fire to his whole fleet.” Which she would, no question. “I’ll show you later,” was a very vague promise of violence – inclining her brows up and down, before meandering and carving her way through the crowd.

They weren’t too far anyway, and it wasn’t a surprise to see a line forming outside the shop. “Ooh damn,” was a whisper, before she beelined over to ensure they had a spot.

ISKRA

He chuckles with quiet wonder at her inclination to flame and ferocity, but given the sour taste the boatsman had left in his mouth, it did not at all feel like an unworthy threat. Still, Iskra wonders if he might have to pick up water magic as a cautionary addition to their friendship, as this is now the second time she's referenced setting something ablaze. Might only be a matter of time until he's liable to burn with her.

Hurrying after her to the line, Iskra settles in for the wait with a smile. The oceanic bustle, the aromas of the past, both of them changed and grown and yet echoing something done long ago...it's easy to appreciate the good parts of Torchline, of Melita. "So, cannons," he starts with a 'brow raise, referencing the notes they'd exchanged recently. "What are you planning to decimate? Then again, she doesn't need a plan, it's an inevitability, so just having them keeps her prepared.

I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water

melita

and she recklessly plays with matches

Or, alternatively, Iskra could pick up fire incantations and they could have a merry little incendiary display together –

She hummed again at the promise of cannons, shaking her head in a delightful little haze of promised tortillas and battle-hungry glory. He probably wouldn’t like her answer, but that had never stopped her – too many things in the world to blow apart, and with encroaching parasites constantly at other region’s doors, it wasn’t about to come as a surprise. She glanced back his way though, every daring venture locked and loaded in her gilded gaze. “I’m going to try and assemble a team to take out the void in the desert,” blunt and truthful. “The cannons are a backup contingency, in case I need the Firecracker.” And not just herself, all full of malice and righteous anger.

Head tilting and pretending such a promise was nothing at all, she batted her eyes a few times, simply to be annoying. “And your axe? What’re your plans for that?” Sure, there was always honoring his mother and administering to his occupation – but weapons were there for more than just sentimentality.

ISKRA

Though the thought of Melita driving headlong into an infected landscape does not fill Iskra with anything akin to comfort, the recognition of her strength, of her duty, of the need for both, manages to keep the burrs of this knowledge from embedding in him. The very idea of losing Melita, the reminder she has been lost before and recovered, is enough to inspire nausea in him. Today however, with sea salt sprinkling across every topic and sunlight warming the edges of his mind, it doesn't seem possible that she could be pulled from between his fingers, no matter how hungry the void. Torchline is a balm he did not anticipate.

Though there's a distant look to his eye as he gazes in the direction the desert lies, as if he can picture her cutting across sand and magenta chaos as easily as she stands beside him, he does not manage anything other than a quiet smile. The type too afraid to grow big in case something pulls it away quick, the kind ready to fall back into a frown, but a smile all the same. "Have to have something to swing when I team up with you someday," he says casually, gaze falling from the horizon to her. He cannot keep her from the discord of life, no one can. So the next best option is to be capable enough to join her amid the fray.

"Figured I'd start with what I know, go from there...work on my magic in-between." The academy and the barracks, each a different side of the coin for Iskra to work on. It'll be a while yet until he can even stand in her shadow, much less at her side, but if the past ten years of self-isolation have proven nothing else, Iskra is persistent. "Just fire and lightning for now," he says with a touch of fondness, like he can feel each of his parents still with him, alive in his abilities as some final bond. "Just basic still, but I'll master them." His fingers curl and uncurl as he stares down at his hands, as if willing the strength there. At least now he's found a reason, standing here with him, smelling freshly made tortillas.

I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water

melita

and she recklessly plays with matches

She half expected him to roar and grumble again at her plans. In fact, she nearly dared and goaded him to do so, that pinpoint of audacity already brimming and beginning as they moved their way up in line, in the slight arch of her brow, in the challenge of something greater and grander. She was never going to stand around and wait. She would plant sedition when and where she could, bombard and try to distract while others went elsewhere – down into the reaches of Starfall. At one point, she could always argue it ‘could be worse’, but she didn’t think that would go over well either.

When it didn’t come, her eyes narrowed, in either speculation or surprise, before seeing his quiet smile, and the answer that came through was oddly sentimental, pulling at her ribcage. She smothered it downward, uncertain if it would become foolhardy, buoyant, something to fixture and fixate a hope on -  but her grin matched in eagerness, stepping forward again as others snagged at their meals and dispersed. “That’d be nice.” Friends at her back, rather than just her vehemently screeching at the world, and something like more than acceptance. She'd already given him that.

But Iskra had more starting points, and she listened, nodding along. Fire. Lightning. Visions where he’d master them, muster incantations, sharpen and hone his skills. “You’ll learn more too, as time goes on,” she shrugged, figuring it was the same for Abandoned as it’d been for her.

And then they were next – and the Honeybee began reciting her order, word for word as one of the more indulgent meals they’d shared as children.

ISKRA

She accepts it as gently as he offers it, and it's a bit of a relief, that she seems to think him capable of managing to do so, eventually. Even with the magic, like it's an inevitability that he'll do more than manage, he'll grow and he'll climb until maybe he's tall enough to take a meaningful stand. It's simple, but it's everything for him, who's been stagnant and quelled. By his own doing, sure, but stationary regardless.

As the line parts for their turn, he listens to her order with a growing smile. He settles in to provide his own, and perhaps his eyes, or his heart, are bigger than his stomach as he orders more than he can surely manage, if only to remember it all. He fishes out coin to pay for both of them, insistent since she's here because of him.

It's not long before the food is made. Cooked fresh, made to order, but fired out with a quickness that does not reduce it's deliciousness. He grabs his plates, too full-handed to also take hers, and heads towards a nearby rock wall that faces the sea. He settles on it carefully, arranging his food at his side with an eye for balance. "Moment of truth," he says with an excited glance towards her as he peels back his first cheesy order, biting into it with an immediate groan of pure enjoyment. He chews, eyes closed for a minute, before nodding. "Yep, still hits the fucking spot." He missed this.

Too starved he's quiet for a minute as he munches, but he finally gathers some breath after relishing in all the food. "So tell me more about Ludo," he asks casually, the awful whisper of Vesper's voice not snaking it's way through just yet, but it lingers, always. "I don't wanna upset it again, but more than that. What's Ludo been like for you?"

I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water

melita

and she recklessly plays with matches

Acceptance hadn’t always been her keen prowess; if anything at all, the Honeybee was far more likely to preen into resolute stubbornness, dig her heels into the ground and wait for someone to churn her loose. So when everything else appeared to settle, her brow arched, wondering if it had ever been that easy.

But then there was food, and the thought quickly dissipated for a seething appetite and impending contentment. “Yesssss,” she hissed in delight, snagging at her goods and food with gratitude extended to both server and Iskra, before merrily skipping over to an absconded table. Sila and Fangorn followed close behind, acting quite angelic and obviously opting for a bite when the begging and sad looking eyes could take hold.

For right now though, all Melita saw was endless tortillas and a little chips on the side.

She waited though, watching for Iskra’s approval, and laughing when it arrived, just as she’d predicted. “See?” Smugly, she dove into hers with relish and aplomb, chewing quietly, and only a few heaving bites, opting to peel some portions away for dragon and vampire gourd.

Crunching down on another chip, she tilted her head, humming along until Iskra granted another inquiry. “Hm? Yeah it really doesn’t like the cold.” Hence why the blanket – and even that hadn’t really remedied the inevitable. “But it loves all kinds of games and candy. Cats too.” Tapping on her chin, and hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything, she shifted, staring at him again, pondering over where this was going. “Ludo’s always wonderful. Cheeky, funny, silly. It’s been my favorite since I arrived in Caido – but maybe I just like chaos,” to which she winked and grabbed another part of her food. “I think we have to have some levity in this place, you know?” Otherwise it was all downhill from there – Iskra could attest to the way devastation weighed.

ISKRA

Iskra nods along as she recounts some of the things she'd told him before about Ludo, suspiciously absent of required tasks like hanging out with him.

Goose reappears suddenly, all ideas for play tossed aside among the sand and boardwalk as the promise of food attracts the glutton. The wet nose slides against Iskra's exposed legs, hot breath like a cruel exhaust set against his already warmed skin. Iskra elbows the mongrel away with a grunt, mid-bite, cheese pulling in delicious strands between his mouth and his wrapped delight. Goose sees the opportunity and seizes it (as if Iskra wasn't going to share with him in a civilized manner in a moment) and mouths at the cheese spread. Iskra recoils with a muffled outcry, Goose's teeth flashing as cheese whips messily around his mouth. He zeroes in on the hand-held source and lunges, half in Iskra's lap before he's grabbed his prize and slipped under the table to Melita's side for safety.

Iskra chokes down his bite, seething with a growled out "Goose!" The admonishment does little when the hound has a cheesy delight as reward for his actions.

Iskra huffs, reaching for a different order of his. "You definitely like chaos," he agrees with a grin, and can't help but be drawn to her god for similar reasons. Yet, the worry remains, the negative always sticking like an oil slick while the positives seem to splash and dry up inside him. "Soooo, Ludo has never asked you to do something you didn't like? Or...require you to spend time with someone?" Iskra can't say being struck by lightning willingly is on his list of favorite things, but he can see why Ludo asked it of him.

I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water

melita

and she recklessly plays with matches

Melita found she was rather fond of Goose’s complete acts of bedlam, and grinned, if not laughed, during the entire ridiculous exchange. Protecting the dog from any impending onslaught, she maneuvered her legs underneath the table, eventually forming some sort of blockade. “Aww poor Goose. You were just so hungry and starved,” she cooed, intending to make things worse by giving him a bite, but scattering it nearby, so the canine would have to give chase rather than beg and plead on her end. Fangorn and Sila, still being polite companions, got more tossed their way.

The further inquiries made her brow arch again, pondering just what on earth Iskra was getting at. “Umm..I can’t think of anything. It asked me to draw on Remi’s face and scare some guy named Thorn, steal Koa’s shoes…but I never had to spend time with anyone. And all of that shit was funny.” Not like sitting down and talking or shooting the shit – more general acts of mayhem and amusement than some particulars. Munching again on her food, her head tilted, gilded eyes narrowing him in study, as if something would merely appear on his face. “Why?”

ISKRA

It should not surprise him that she shelters the cheese-thief refugee, an agent of chaos that she has perhaps begun to conspire with. Still, he tosses her an exasperated look when she croons after the food bandit, rewarding him with even more morsels for a job well done. Iskra might have kicked up a bigger fuss if not for the utter adoration for the dog and the generally good manners Goose kept.

At her further revelations, Iskra nods along, features drawn in thought. Nothing sounds remiss, just small pranks, perhaps less favored by those on the receiving end but overall harmless it would seem. Though, it's starting to seem less like Ludo is out to spread joy via chaos than it is just trying to earn laughs at the expense of others, however small the fare. Still didn't really line up with making her hang out with him. Which brings Iskra back to why trust what Vesper said, other than equally why not, because how else would Vesper know, and why would he lie? Doubtful that asking Melita outright would result in the truth (the truth to Iskra being flat agreement with Vesper's words), he just shrugs in response to her.

"I just heard that Ludo assigned you to keep others company, sometimes." He scratches absently at the bottom of his beard. "Thought maybe Ludo made people hang out, even if they didn't want to, perhaps to cheer that person up? Maybe the person who told me was confused."

I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water

melita

and she recklessly plays with matches

With all the wiles and lies spread, unbeknownst to her, Melita could only take anything Iskra said at face value, brow still arched at the statement. “Oh. No. Not yet anyway.” Tapping on her chin, she contemplated some figures and fixtures Ludo might direct her towards, but so far the impending victims had been widespread and not one individual in particular. She nearly thought Remi, because of his prior connections to the raggedy herald, but then again, the demigod certainly had enough friends, family, and Ronin to keep him from ever feeling lonely.

Handwaving that away, she shrugged her shoulders. “Doesn’t really fit with the whole chaos of it all. But I could be wrong. Maybe it just hasn’t happened yet.” And she wasn’t going to be one to predict Ludo’s thought pattern – she barely withstood hers half the time.

Munching along and finishing up her chips, she brushed her hands together, trying to decipher Iskra’s intentions, of which were probably wildly off the mark. “Are you thinking of aligning with it?”

ISKRA

Her response seems genuine, but then, he doesn't know her nearly as well as he used to. He watches for the tug of her lips, the dip of her 'brow, the shift of her eyes, but she's rather neutral in her thinking and dismissal. Gradually, as it has been over time since the words first curled into him, some of the venom of it drains away. Bit by bit, it'll shrink into just a mark he wears in the back of his head, a cruel thought that might return when it can brazenly say, aha, see, told you so.

He squints in thought at her query, wrapping up the meatier dish he'd been nibbling on. "I think so. Seems to be the most fun one." Not that any of the gods struck him as particularly fun, especially since Ludo's version seems to come with strings—or lightning bolts. Better than nothing though. "So long as I keep it warm," he grins.

Behind them the light has begun to change from cerulean to a brilliant rose and sparkling champagne. "You ready?" he asks, nodding toward the skiff. The light catches on the water like fire, and he can nearly feel the heat of it starting to nip at him. Maybe that's just the dread returning. "For the boat ride?"

I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water

melita

and she recklessly plays with matches

“Ah, you can learn things,” she wrinkled her nose, shaking her head and loosening the crimson curls from one another in the languid heat of the early evening. She’d agree – Ludo was the best – but otherwise kept the contentment too herself; figuring Iskra would figure it out on his own, one way or another. Pocketing some of her portions for later, she could probably save some for Fangorn and Sila for tomorrow’s breakfast, she rose from the bench, nodding. “Are you?”

Because that was what would matter in the end – this was Iskra’s role and duty and goal. His mother and memories of her, dedications Melita had never been able to summon for her own – though she wouldn’t even know what to do, save for ensuring lanterns every year. She was merely there; and while she could be a great many bestial things, she wasn’t going to push him into something he truly didn’t want to do.

Inching her way towards the rented boat, she glanced back over her shoulder at him, waiting for a proper response, for him to lead on, rather than her marching steps.

ISKRA

He laughs at her tease, rising from their seats with wrapped food in hand, leftovers that he'll devour later because it's too good to waste. Her presence and humor are enough to waylay the creeping weight of his mother, at least for a bit longer. So when she asks him, and he glances up to see the sunset tangled in her hair, the sea like a shawl she wears, the steady warmth in her amber gaze, it lets him answer with certainty. "Yeah, I think I finally am."

He follows after her, Goose trailing loosely at his side, the dog swinging back and forth between him as various smells call to the hound. He makes no ceremony about loading the pack and their wrapped food into the small boat, just a quiet focus on one task after the other, unwilling to look too far ahead at what remains after all the tasks are over. He offers an arm to help her into the boat, whistles and shoves Goose into it as well and ensures Sila and Fangorn can manage before heaving against the hull and sliding it out into the water. He jumps aboard before it slips too far from shore, and settles at the sail and wheel like he'd never left.

"I meant to tell you," he says conversationally as they sail towards more open water, the night gradually moving with them in a curtain of purple. "I saw Sah." there's a wry twist to his expression, and he glances from the ocean to her.

I'm losin' my grip, caught up in the current
I can't swim, I'm startin' to slip
I'm runnin' out of breath, I'm scared to death
I gotta keep my head up, Up above the water