[ME] every single hot take is cold as ice

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

LongNight folds over Torchline like velvet, the sky a sealed lid with no moon to pry it open, and Flora sits on a sun-bleached log turned throne by proximity to a fire that roars its defiance into the dark.

Bioluminescence murmurs along the tideline, the sea turning the absence of stars into its own sly language; blue-green handwriting that appears and vanishes with each breath of a wave. It makes the whole beach feel enchanted: lanterns bead the dark like a necklace, torches throw saffron shadows, bottles with candles sunk inside become treasure that glows from the sand. Torchline refuses to whisper through a week of black; it sings, and the drums tucked somewhere down the shore fold their heartbeat into the bones of all those present, until fingers are helpless but to keep time against the curve of their cups.

Beyond the fire’s reach, the dark stays absolute, a theatre curtain that never rises, but the shoreline keeps sketching constellations to replace those missing above. Every step someone takes through the shallows draws a comet-tail of glow that disappears before it can be pointed out.

//

The air holds that Deepfrost sharpness Flora can taste on her tongue—salt and cold braided together—yet the bonfire warms her cheeks until they glow. She’s dressed for the weather and the place: a slouchy sweater sliding off one shoulder as if bored of propriety, loose trousers cuffed above her ankles to dodge damp sand, sandals nudged aside where the heat won’t melt them. Her hair is caught up in a messy knot that can’t help unspooling, curls slipping free in stubborn gold ribbons.

Spice perches light as frost on her shoulder, a small white crown with bright eyes, and huffs a cool breath across the rim of Flora’s drink. The rum is dressed in lime and a splash of floral syrup, the sort of thing that tastes like a garden daring the ocean to kiss it. She drinks, savours the warmth unfurling low and lazy, then sets the cup down where an ember can’t bite it. Her other hand toys with a paper twist she bought from a stall that smelled like cloves and secrets, the packet gone velvety with humidity. Inside, the powder glints like ground gemstones—midnight blue, sea-glass green, bruised-violet promise.

The fire tempts her closer. Heat licks at her shins and paints her skin in copper and honey until the gold at her throat feels molten. She tips the powder into her palm and tosses it high with a deft flick, a queen anointing her own little cathedral of flame. The bonfire inhales; for a breath the blaze tightens like a dancer holding at the top of a leap, and then colour blooms. Blue wheels through orange in slick ribbons, green tongues unfurl and taste the night, violet opens like a flower sped into being. Light spills across her like stained glass, turning her into something luminous and a little unreal, and she smiles without showing teeth, pleased to keep the wonder close and private.

real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Sohalia

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you
I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

There were probably a million reasons why Sohalia should have stayed home this LongNight, but as she walked amongst the bonfires with her third drink in her hand, she could remember exactly none of them.

She wasn't drunk - not yet, anyway - but she was certainly buzzed. It was a preferable way to be these days. Sober Soh was morose and melancholy, drowning in a tide of emotions she hadn't quite managed to wrangle into submission. Drunk Soh, though? Drunk Soh was light, and fun, and oh gods why was that fire blue maybe she was drunker than she thought -

Another burst of color had Soh gasping with delight, and she hurried to the nearest stall to purchase her own fire-feeding powder. The nearest bonfire was crowded, but there was a smaller fire down the beach that was largely deserted, so she made her way across the sand to enjoy her colored flames and her drink in peace. Or, well... as much peace as LongNight in Torchline would allow her. It was a moment that was just for her. It reminded her of that day with Deimos, when he'd showed her his fire magic and she'd marveled at how something so beautiful could also be so deadly. Ironic, really, that flames had once more captivated her. Or, if not ironic, then... something.

Taking a healthy swig of her drink, Soh opened her little satchel. The powder that spilled into her palm didn't look like anything special, but when she tossed it high, feeling the flames kiss her palm - well, that was when the magic happened. Blue and green and purple licked towards the starless sky, and Soh giggled with glee.

She couldn't do this in Stormbreak. She couldn't breathe in Stormbreak.

But in Torchline... 

Soh threw her arms wide and spun a little circle, feeling more at home than she had in months.

I've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night
And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

Now, walk into the club like, what up? I got a big cock.

He's prepared this time. Much like being caught without proper clothes at a sleepover, he's learned, and this time his wardrobe is ready for a dragonflight. Many of his problems seem to stem from lacking attire, which might need to be his next god request after he works on his weaponry a bit.

• Goggles, check.
  
• Leather jacket, to both look badass and keep the windchill at bay, check.
  
• A new TORCHLINE shirt underneath to replace the ruined one, check.
  
• Warm work pants with pockets, including his ticket pad and pencil, check.
  
• Boots, check.
  
• Last but not least, backpack of supplies (including a change of clothes), checkity-check.
  

That'd been his mental checklist prior to climbing back upon the large, terrifying, super scary black dragon partner he has for the current patrol. "Chaaaaarlie," he calls out, her name a sung phrase as he leans lower to her neck to try and point where she can see. "I hear lots of shouting over there, we should do our due diligence and investigate!" Akin to Ash Ketchum's Charizard, this dragon listens about 60% of the time. So, in an effort to encourage her, he offers this possible carrot. "Could be a fight for us to break up, or maybe a dance party in need of some judges."

Even if she doesn't head there, plenty of party stretches out around them. Though he's experienced a host of LongNights, he has to hand it to Torchline, they have a much better handle on it than Stormbreak ever did. The bioluminescence in particular keeps drawing his eye, looking for all the world like the sea has stolen every star from the sky. He likes to think they fall down all at once for an annual cleaning before popping back to the cosmos, where space dust gets them all dirty again over time.

Kaisel

Peep game, come take a look through my telescope

CHARLIE

Charlie gives her back a slow, exaggerated roll, the kind that might mean she’s stretching, or that she’s teasing him, which is far more likely. The motion ripples through her scales, each one flashing with the faint sheen of heat that builds along her spine. For a long, drawn-out moment she does nothing else, wings tilting lazily against the updrafts like she’s pretending not to have heard him.

Then, with a sound that could only be described as gleeful mischief given form, she roars. It’s not dignified or elegant, just loud; thunder cracking in her throat, echoing across the Ahi Coast until it’s impossible to tell where the sound ends and the laughter begins. The kind of roar that could rattle ribs, terrify fish, and absolutely ruin any chance of a quiet patrol.

She banks sharply mid-roar, a showy, corkscrewing turn that sends sand and salt spray spiralling in her wake. Her wings beat once—twice—and then she’s diving, the night wind screaming over her scales as she angles toward the direction Kaisel pointed. She doesn’t slow. Why would she? The dark is hers, and the chaos is just too tempting.

The bonfire below looms suddenly close, its flicker a challenge she takes personally. With a giddy rumble, she opens her jaws wide and exhales a column of molten gold and white, a ribbon of flame that hits the centre of the blaze and makes it explode. Fire leaps skyward, roaring back at her like an equal; sparks spray in every direction, painting her belly in starbursts.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

don't you ever tame your demons

"Oh - Charlie's here. I'd bet money on it." Danta grins up at Astaroth as they pad across the sand towards a colourful bonfire where the queen of the region and the party has chosen to arrange herself. His remark comes off the back of a chaotic and all too familiar ROAR, and though it might be argued that all dragons sound alike, spend a little time in the Hollowed Grounds and Danta bets you'll change your mind.

They'd taken the next skyship willing to head out into the Longnight dark, bundled up against the bitter cold, and the Maverick remains that way until long after they'd touched down on Torchline's shores. The endless night even makes the tropics feel nippy, and only once they've dropped their belongings off at Wildering House does he feel his bones warm enough to join the celebration.

Picking up his pace, he encroaches into the rainbow cascade of firelight to perch, quite audaciously, on the arm of Flora's sun-bleached 'throne', tossing an arm around her shoulders and being careful to avoid Spice. The movement disturbs Moira from her place snug in the collar of his coat, but she offers only a sleepy croak of greeting. "Surprise," he purrs, almost into Flora's ear, offering her a broad, fanged grin. "Thanks for the invite - we were getting bored of our own debauchery at the Dusklight."

Dantalion

but always keep 'em on a leash

NIKI

Having promised Flora that he would try to partake in the Longnight festivities for at least a little while, Niki has settled himself in front of a smaller bonfire away from the rowdier individuals and roaring dragons. Quite content to sit with his own company, he's nevertheless enjoying a bit of people watching as he gets more comfortable on a worn down log that has undoubtedly been a perch for dozens of others before him.

With his bad leg stretched out before him in its brace, heel half buried in the sand, he's got his own paper sachet of powder to change the colour of the flames. Currently, though, he's more interested in its composition, sipping idly from a flask of hot coffee as he tries to discern the minerals and which colours he might predict from their contact with the fire.

All in all, very nerdy, boring stuff.

stay your pretty eyes on course
keep the memories of who i was before

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

If you're standing in the cold out of fear your flaws will show

“It would certainly appear so.” The butcher hums, squinting over into the darkened sky and down the beach for her, illuminated only by the bonfires dotting the sands to try and pinpoint the black dragon. His arm remains draped around Danta’s shoulders, the warm fabric of his sleeve seeping more warmth from his body heat into the other Ancient. It’s cold here — not as cold as back home, but still colder than he expected even if he was fully prepared for it.

With their bags dropped off and the bulk of their winter wear exchanged for something more comfortable but still warm, Asta keeps the little balls of fire illuminating the dark crown of his horns, like little candlelight fires upon each tine — made a bit more heavy and pointed thanks to his haunt, alongside a shadow that follows them a touch too smiley for their own good, giving off the appearance of daggers.

The butcher himself, however, loosens his hold on Danta for him to greet the Queen, before he’s sweeping into place to give her his own greeting – a kiss to her cheek and a squeeze of her hand. “Hello Flora, darling.” He hums before nodding his agreement in gratitude for the invite. “There are only so many times one can prowl around the Dusklight during LongNight before it gets rather dull.” All that to say that everyone there had been on their best behavior and he’d had very little work to actually do at all.

The sharp grin he shoots Flora’s way says as much.

Astaroth

We can live out where the warmth is 'til our names are etched in stone

If you feel like night is falling

He'd made a point to travel here before the long night descended, in no way wanting to stagger around the frost of Halo in the depths of the dark, never mind the severe cold it brings. He's not sure he would have found a willing pilot even if he had. So he's left most of his puffy jackets and snow boots at Melita's house, in complete opposite of her arrival to his place whereupon she raids his closet and coat rack.

Goose lopes after the bioluminescent seafoam, snorting excessively as he snaps at the blue glitter, trying to catch it with as much success as a cat and a laser pointer. Iskra smirks as he saunters after him, hands shoved in the pockets of his rolled up pants, barefeet picking out a slow and idle path, his favorite sort to take beside her. A tiny squall ruffles the collar of his open button up, a pattern of pineapples and cocktails with umbrellas a nice contrast to the blue, a plain white t shirt on underneath. "Well, hot springs might be nice, but not much beats getting to stroll a beach in DeepFrost barefoot," he admits with a slant to his smile as he looks over at her.

"Might have to make it a habit of shacking up here every cold season, and you can run from the heat in Halo." He doubts she has much issue with the heat, what with all her affinity for setting things on fire, but he puts the offer out regardless as an opportunity for them to keep trading time and visits.

Iskra

I wanna be the one you're calling

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

The bonfire answers her sprinkle of dust with a roar of colour; Flora’s paused mid-sip when the sky splits open with another, louder sound that ripples down her spine. Her eyes narrow against the glare, lashes catching firelight as a black shape corkscrews through the dark; even without stars she can trace the line of it cleanly enough to know that there was a dragon up there, which would make the speck clinging to its neck almost definitely her boyfriend. Before she can decide if she’s going to wave him down or pretend she hasn’t noticed, heat blooms at her side with a familiar purr at her ear.

She glances, and the beam that takes her face is instant and unfeigned; her arm curves around Dantalion ’s shoulders in the same motion she leans into him, careful not to jostle Spice where the little dragon is a cool, pearly weight at her collarbone. "You came!" she crows, delighted, voice bright enough to catch and carry over the music. Over his shoulder she finds Astaroth, meeting the butcher’s sharp grin with a flash of her own and tipping her cheek into his kiss with a pleased, approving hum. "I’ve missed you, both of you," she adds, the words warm as the firelight that gilds her jewellery. "You look devastatingly good, by the way."

She rises from her driftwood throne in one liquid, unbothered motion, the slouchy sweater sliding off one shoulder like it wants an introduction to the night air; loose pants whisper against her calves, anklets chiming softly as her feet find the sand. Gold flickers at her throat and hands, her rings catching stray sparks the way shells catch foam. She hooks her fingers gently around Danta’s forearm and offers her free hand to Asta, eyes dancing toward a cluster of lanterns where bottles gleam like trapped sunsets. "Come on. Drinks first, then we’ll stake out a patch by one of the big fires so you don’t freeze." Spice chirrs agreement before settling back onto Flora's chair to wait.

Glancing up at the sky where the black shadow of a dragon has just thrown a line of molten gold over the beach, Flora will glance at her counterparts with a crooked smile. "Friend of yours?"

real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

LongNight had always held that sharp ghost in the back of Melita’s mind – difficult to erase the shadows of persistent horror, no matter how many years separated the factions. It was why she’d gone to Torchline soon after – escape and evasion – and so now, when the evening melted into constancy, she had those telltale motions too. Bonfires. Glee. Rampant amounts of alcohol. The flames were reminders of more than just rampant trepidation; glory in the strength of their own mischief, in their own survival.

She could see telltale infernos in the distance, ignited with something else to alter hues – her eyes widening, grin turning Cheshire as she glanced at Iskra alongside. Toes dug deep into the sand and called to home, not unlike the woodcutter, and so she hummed, skipping a little as she pushed off the dunes and angled her strides to be a little swifter. She’d long since knotted the ends of her dress so they didn’t end up dragged throughout sea and surf, gaze going back and forth. Fangorn bobbled steadily behind, vines outstretched, while Sila soared, copper sheen glinting off displays further ahead. “Like I’d run from the heat,” she teased, sticking her tongue out in a very childish display.

But she could at least see the hints, the way he was trying to find ways to carve spaces and time for another. “We could try it though,” she salvaged, quirking her brow upwards, as if asking for a challenge. “I did want to go maim some of those fucking huge ass spiders your forest has.”

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

don't you ever tame your demons

"But of course," Danta purrs to Flora, grinning and releasing her so she might say a proper hello to the butcher as well. "It's our first time in Torchline for Longnight - so far, very impressive." Rising to his feet as well and reaching up to affectionately scritch the soft down at Moira's chest, he surrenders his other arm to Flora without a fuss.

"We have missed you too," he assures her with a dramatic sigh. "Asta has spent most of this season napping, but now he's feeling better it only seemed right to take advantage of your invitation when it came. Lead the way." To booze, to giant bonfires, to the sort of chaos he can feel thrumming like a low vibration in his blood.

And at the blacker-than-black shadow throwing fire across the sky, the Maverick can't help but bark out a laugh. "That," he tells Flora, "isn't just a friend of ours. If I'm not mistaken she's actually our priestess as well."

Dantalion

but always keep 'em on a leash

If you're standing in the cold out of fear your flaws will show

Her voice dances in the warm night air like a brilliant windchime, pressing into both of them as they greet her with such a comfortable ease. “We missed you too, darling.” The butcher hums alongside Danta as they start to withdraw – not staying too far from her as she captures the both of them to guide them. A guilty look is shot her way in terms of Danta’s announcement that he’s been napping most of the season – though he’s sure she can understand why, given how high strung he’d been the previous season.

“I hear it is sweater season.” He playfully hums, his free hand brushing off his shoulder clad in the fabric of a thick sweater as they head toward getting drinks so they can relax by the fires – something he’s looking forward to as it’s painfully obvious each step away from the bonfire how the chill eats at him.

His tail flicks lazily behind him as Danta answers Flora’s question about the speck in the sky, roaring her little heart out, taking the moment to collect drinks for all three of them and passing them off – picking something refreshing and bright for Danta and Flora, while choosing one that’s sweet and dark for himself. “I am fairly confident it is her.” He hums in addition to Danta's voice, peeking up at the sky again and squinting as if it might help him see her better.

Astaroth

We can live out where the warmth is 'til our names are etched in stone

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

Flora’s grin flares, wicked and bright as the firelight. "Honestly? I wish I’d been spending the season napping," she says, tossing Asta a look full of mock envy and amused approval before lifting her drink in his direction. "It sounds divine, especially given last season." The sweater hanging off her shoulder shifts as she laughs, the gold glint at her collarbone catching every spark that jumps from the nearest flame.

When Danta mentions their priestess, her brows climb high, a smile curving uncertain and curious as she glances between them. "Your priestess?" she echoes, eyes darting skyward to where the black dragon still cuts wild shapes against the night. The firelight flickers in her aqua gaze as she turns back to Asta, the question half a tease, half genuine disbelief. "I’m...pretty sure that’s my boyfriend up there on her back."

She blinks, then laughs under her breath, shaking her head as if that might help sort out the absurdity of it all. "He told me he’d gone for a ride on a dragon, but obviously I didn’t believe him. And she—your priestess, apparently—invited us to something called a Blood Moon Festival?" The question drifts between them like a spark waiting for kindling, her expression expectant as she looks from Danta to Asta for confirmation, equal parts curiosity and mischief flickering behind her smile.

real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

If you feel like night is falling

Scattering some of the blue glow of the sea under a sweep of his toes as a wave breaks, only mildly aiming it at Melita's feet, Iskra starts to turn their casual saunter from the shore. He'll leave Goose to keep chasing after the idea of catching the light that rises and fades like underwater fireflies, the colorful flames have caught his eye in particular now. "We should definitely maim some spiders," he agrees with a twist of a smile. "You have a whole murderous creature death list we should be checking off while we wander around? Any in Torchline you still need to add to your kill collection?" Monster hunting sounds like something he could get into, especially since she seems to readily hurl herself after the beasts.

As they near one of the bonfires, he grins suddenly, reaching out to grab at Mel's hand. "C'mon," he encourages, colored firelight blooming against his face in a small rainbow as those nearby toss their colored powder in at rapid fire. "Let's dance," and this time it won't be attempting not to fall off a jurryrigged plank over a pretend ocean. He drags her along with him, joining Sohalia's spinning with a laugh. There's little rhyme to it, just a jaunty bounce of his legs here and there, turning around Mel and offering her the archway to do the same, even extending a hand to Soh in offer for a twirl. "I'm Iskra," he tells her in one quick passing.

Iskra

I wanna be the one you're calling