Days feel longer without you

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

He doesn’t let her unimpressed huh deflate the puff of his pride. If anything, it cuts his grin into something slanted and devious. He knows she won’t yield easily, in fact he’d be much more suspicious if she did. Though, there’s no denying the bristling energy inside him as she circles around the findings like a ruler passing judgement.

When she offers up her own for comparison, he steps into the pacing, going opposite her. His hands are tucked low and behind him, folding beneath the bottom of the pack as he cuts a cursory glance sidelong at the display. ”I see,” is all he offers up at first. The rock is an impressive addition, and the flower on it’s own is not so nice as it had been in her hair, but there it could go again.

He pauses, skeptical, as his gaze lifts at her proclamation of victory. ”Trust the doll?” he repeats, a laugh marking his growing smile as he steps in and picks it up. He turns it over before tossing it towards her. ”What, like it’s cursed?” As for the chocolates? He reaches out and plucks one up, popping it into his mouth while staring her down. He chews slowly, methodically, then clutches suddenly at his throat in dramatics.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

There’d been rumors before about cursed dolls and relics, so she rolled her eyes at his bait. “Maybe,” on half a shrug, nearly goading him to try it, but then he’d already gone after the chocolate. Her eyes widened, rounding in surprise, already taking several steps forward, the berating measures on her tongue. “Oh my gods, I don’t have any healing it-,” and then came the dramatic clutching at his throat, and she could feel her jaw tightening. In all fairness, she’d probably given him more than a few segments of frantic interludes, panic, apprehension – but they’d both lost multitudes, and she figured he’d know better.

Her mouth snapped shut and she ceased her movement, settling for a glare, then something molten, trying to find humor and pierce, puncture, through the emotions fractiously contorting through her spine. “Well, if you end up poisoning yourself, I say I win by default.” Crossing her arms over her chest again, she wrinkled her nose, taking a deep breath to stop the bristling along her ribcage. “But maybe we should have Goose judge,” thinking, of course, he’d go for the bone – though she did purposefully lift the confectionary notions out of the pile.

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

"Dark chocolate," he strangles out after a moment of flare, then straightens up with a grin and a swallow that is forced, because it isn't his favorite flavor. "A touch stale too," he sniffs, mildly offended. Guess that'd be some negative points.

Her laughter doesn't ring forth as expected, but he'll take the jab at his death-loss as her not being completely cross. He shrugs, because they'd smelled fine enough (albeit not well-versed on poisoned confections, just the naturally growing kind), and he figured if these were offerings or stashes that most things were safe. "True, if I die I think I forfeit by default." Which unfortunately (?) for her, he's still standing, leaving them at an impasse still.

"What?!" The shock of her suggestion cannot be overstated. His gaze slides immediately to his fluffy friend, clearly unimpressed by what he sees. The dog's head tilts towards his name, lolling tongue put away as he seems to think, still staring at Mel and seeming to decide if she called him or not. Going with the former, he bounds towards her suddenly, nose working overtime as he finds her side and the tucked away treats. With no access to them though, his attention soon enough drifts back towards the other items on display, and as predicted he is drawn immediately towards the bone. He claims it swiftly, bounding off before either of them can stop him.

"Wha—hey! Goose!" he stammers after the dog, uselessly it'd seem as the husky slinks into some nearby brush without so much as a glance back. Rolling his eyes back towards Mel, he juts his chin towards her. "Guess that makes you queen of the peepholes?" Not able to maintain any true upset over the ordeal, even as he mutters that she planned this, he reaches out with a hand and draws on his maker's whimsy. In his palm, a small tiara of woven deer-antler, vine, and flowers appears, enchanted to smell sweetly of honey. "Alright then, what's your first decree, your grace?"

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

Her grin was an unrelenting force the moment his shock rang out; back to where she was comfortable in mischief and mayhem. Goose, for his part, was magnificent in the proceedings, from bounding along, and stealing the bone, to orchestrating evasion immediately thereafter, leaving Melita crowned victor. Viciously and wholly content with the proceedings, she pocketed her rocks, placed the flower back in her hair, and preened – head lifted, jaw high, every bit of audacity that should’ve been regal or noble or just slightly less audacious, bold, and arrogant. “I guess so,” with a wink of indulgence, clearly not ever fully equipped to handle the sudden impact of royalty.

“What did you say?” about his muttering, pretending to blink swiftly as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “I believe this was your idea of a game,” and he’d unfortunately yet to understand just how much she’d cheat. But then there were other things to consider, and she watched as he created an item – eyes widening ever so slightly, tucking her arms back to appear only the least bit inquisitive (when the rest of her gave away the intent). Her features altered entirely when the crown was unfurled, deer antler, vine, and blossoms, the aroma of honey woven around her senses.

She snagged it immediately. “This is lovely,” as she placed it on her head, oohing and awing with all the right inflections. “How do I look?” Given how many times Flora had offered her the position of reigning Queen alongside, Melita still would never actually truly bear such a title and mantle; but parading around like a supreme shithead only sounded amusing from this standpoint. All a part of the game, the ruse.

Even thereafter, upon his inquiry, did she lean into her pretenses, encouraging and enticing as she stood on her tiptoes, ensuring her mouth hovered near his. Her eyes went hooded, glancing into his, every inch the imp and tease, voice ghosting a breath over his lips. She might’ve said something, anything, but the role was immediately subverted by a loud growl from her stomach, and she snorted. “Let’s eat. More than your shitty chocolate.”

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

Wisely choosing not to rise to the question, which is entirely rhetorical he soon learns when she follows it swiftly with the reminder that he put himself in this position, he just scoffs. He had not expected Goose to be named presiding judge, or for the hound to turn his back on him. So much for man's most loyal friend. Instead, he focuses on the tiara he crafts, only catching a glimpse of her anticipation on the border of his peripheral as he works. It becomes clear enough however, when she retrieves the crown with a swiftness that leaves him blinking.

Folding his hands loosely at his chest while a smile unfolds on his lips, he appraises her new accessory. "It looks very fitting," he declares, because it pairs rather nicely with her smugness. It does, actually, look quite nice on her. The flower had been a fine enough accent, but this tames some of her hair back, leaving her wild yet while also accentuating the beauty that comes natural to her. "Stunning, actually," he admits quieter, softened with the awareness that creeps in now that the thrill of the game has come to a close.

It's easy enough then to fall into the little trap she lays. When she leans in, when she tilts up, when she presses in like he ought to do all the same in return and meet her. Before he's able to cross the remaining distance and find her in any sort of embrace, the loud growl from her stomach parts it instead, and her quick withdrawal from the possibility leaves him rocking back on his heels with a huff that quickly shifts from disappointed yearn to amusement. "Luckily I have just the thing."

Grabbing his feather and leaving the doll wherever it'd been tossed, the rock makes a rather nice place to lay out the spread of his pack. He swings it around and pulls out a green quilt first. After that, he lays out a few packaged items that will unroll into bread, cut meats and cheeses, some sliced tomatoes and olives, and jars of condiments. It's a sandwich assembly line with a wide variety of options, and on the side a container of berries and sugar. Last but not least, a bottle of wine and some cups. "Hopefully this hits the spot," he grins.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

She preened under the compliments, a sudden motion of dress and wild curls, a rising blush to her cheeks, eyes mildly appraising his huff of disappointment at her antics, or the ensuing pulse of amusement. A snare set, though the line not completely drawn. After some food, perhaps; not voicing the thoughts meandering around her mind, slowly, not unlike a predator pacing back and forth. That she’d have him anywhere, as long as he was willing too – drawn somewhere from interludes in forests or streams or amidst something wild, something fierce –

For the present though, there was sustenance, and she paused in the maelstrom of her salacious mind to watch as he finally revealed the nestled portions in his pack. She smiled at the green quilt billowed across the surface, but then there were packages of bread, the aroma of the meats, cheeses, tomatoes, and olives, and her eyes widened significantly, mouth already watering at the prospects. “This is fantastic,” she emphasized, gliding over while her companions sauntered from the shadows, polite enough to wait their turns. “Very well done,” prospered with a wink in his direction, hands already plucking at two slices, starting the miniature assembly line, striving to gather her wits amidst the myriad of choices. “A good idea too,” to emphasize she was much happier here, out in the wilderness with him, then to be corded off in a stuffy Stormbreak restaurant and not knowing which fork to stab herself with. “I brought more things to go with the berries and sugar,” unknowingly, but they'd compliment each other well, though she’d let that be a surprise, placing her sandwich together before pouring them some glasses of wine and waiting for him to make his selection.

Not without parsing out portions of treats and meat for Sila and Fangorn, respectively, of course. From there, she debated, and then let the notions unfurl, gradually; uncertain about his pending response, but knowing it was probably best not to hide these experiences – given they could always happen again. "Did I tell you about being channeled during LongNight?"

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

He'd never admit it, least of all to her, but the praise she extends means the world. He's packed lunches often for his work, and likely she has for her travel, so he's got some practice with what does and does not travel well. Maybe it's not so grand as what they could have found in a restaurant, but he did strive to select ingredients that were more than the typical 9-5 lunch box partner.

Her approval sparks a broad smile, a touch of color finding his cheeks for the thrill of nailing it. "Thanks! Glad it's to your tastes." He gathers up his own sandwich behind her, layering condiments then cheese and meat in a specific pattern to maximize the best mouth feel and flavor ov every bite. He tops it off with the additions of tomatoes and olives, smashing it all carefully between the other slice of bread, more famished than he realized now that the aroma is wrapping around him. "Oh yeah?" he wonders of her own additions, glancing up from his work with an arched 'brow, certain it'll be revealed and elevate the dessert portion further. "I'll be sure to save room." Although for dessert, there is always room.

Finding a seat near her, perching on the rock and quilt not claimed with food already, he takes in the peaceful sights of the surrounding area with a contented sigh. Claiming his glass of wine from her smoothly, he tilts it towards her in a mild toast. "To good sights, good eats, and even better company." Tilting back a sip, he fins a less precarious section of stone to set it on so he can bite into his sandwich. "You were channeled?" he says muffled around a bite, chewing for a moment before trying again. "...What as that like?" There's caution to his ask, though he aims to keep it neutral. It's enough worry with all the vile things int he world she willingly throws herself into, much less the struggles others thrust unto her. It's part of her Demi-godhood and all, but he doesn't like it.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

The hunger gnawed only for snippets more before she’s placed herself on the rock and quilt, gloriously munching away and making contented noises around the pockets of bread, meat, and cheese. She tipped her crowned head to him, then clanked the cup back in a toast, swallowing down the remnants before speaking. “Just be careful that doll doesn’t somehow come back with us,” she winked; still thinking of the potential of its curse, purposefully knocking her knee into his.

But then the question arrived, cautionary and a little too patient, like he was hovering over the edge of another crater. Melita half-wondered if she should’ve mentioned it at all, based on his carefully neutral reply. She waited, thought about gnarling it all together, back into the folds of somewhat processed knots and leaving it there. It was how she dealt with most things that bound against her ribs and bones. Then she debated on the course of his emotions thereafter – remembering how mad he’d been when she’d casually mentioned her death, even though she’d been standing right there, in front of him, alive and fine. But she’d gone too far now, impulsive notions rankling on her tongue, pondering how much to keep locked away and buried, or simply to fling out and see what occurred. “Yeah. Kaisel channeled me in the fucking ocean to help him win a race against Flora…or something,” she waved the hand not containing the sandwich, as if lobbing that piece away made it better. “So I used my wild magic and ended up taking a nap. On top of the water though, ‘cause of my anklet.”

It sounded better in her head, forgoing the potential aspects of drowning, catching the aspects before Iskra might have an opportunity to balk. She’d already lectured Kaisel on it, and then punched/kicked him for good measure. “Not my finest moment, and I didn't like it,” she admitted, taking another bite and savoring the flavors. “But it made me think maybe hardly anyone channels me because I might be useless to them, y’know?” The shrug was meant to be casual, rather than something that had scalded her for weeks. She had plenty of things for trickery and deceit and fun and power, demolition – and it hadn’t mattered in those seconds. “I guess I just need to be ready like…all the time.”

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

A short chuckle escapes him at the reminder and he makes a show of casting a glance around for it. With any luck, Goose would dismantle it too. "I was including it in the good company," he jests, secretly delighted that he knows how to spook her should the need ever arise in the future. The repercussions of that choice might not be worth actually making it, he'd have to see how he felt in the moment if it ever arose.

The light moment is short-lived as she goes on to explain her ordeal of being channeled. He takes a bite, then another, actively working to keep his mouth full so he can hear her out and digest it instead of immediately, outwardly at least, rankle at the idea that she'd been yanked from her own affairs to help with a race. It's not fully helped though when she also seems to bristle at it. "In the ocean. For a race?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "The audacity. The thoughtlessness. The, the stupidity of that." His sigh is haggard as he tries to clamp down on it all with a grumble and a scowl tossed into the woods. "Thankfully it's only six seconds." Maybe wouldn't keep her safe from all risks, but usually took longer than that to drown. Not that evading death should be the only goal here.

Worse than hearing about what she went through though, is hearing how it's now affected her. His gaze lingers on her now, heavy with a disapproval that isn't meant for her. "No, that's impossible," he immediately refuses. The idea that she's just idling around for anyone's beck and call is insulting, she's got a godsdamned life to lead. "You have to sleep, for one. They have to plan better. And you're plenty capable, you're like the least useless person I know!" His grip has unknowingly tightened on his sandwich, ingredients squishing, and flame licks at the bread in small tongues that is turning it to toast.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

The notions of that hideous looking doll made her nose wrinkle; brain already deciding to pit her companions, and herself, again it, should the ugly object ever make it into the skyboat. She’d pitch it directly over the side with glee – and then if it returned from that plunge into the depths, she’d probably set it ablaze.

But those concoctions and plots could wait. They were alike when it came to some portions of their tempers; though it depended on the situation on whose might go alight first. For how long depended on many circumstances though – and Melita had already been given and granted time to weigh out the deliberations, not wholly thoroughly, but enough to go rage at Kaisel for a spell. So when Iskra scoffed, she sat still, brow arching as she ate, letting the flavors mingle together while he shook his head, seemed to get incensed for her, rather than against. It was a relief to hear some of her own depictions echoed back, just from a place of more than irritation. “Yeah, I don’t know-,” she came up with at first, swallowing down another bite and opting for a long, contemplative sip of the wine. “Like, Colt channeled me soon after, and I got to throw ducks at my uncle. Much more fun.” And she didn’t face the threat of drowning.

The weight of his disapproving gaze settled back on her thereafter, and she could feel herself immediately go rigid, spine straight and taut, body tensing, muscle memory wondering how far her weapons were. When it wasn’t directed at her, rather the stupidity of the situation, the apprehension eased, though not wholly from her ribs. “I was there when they channeled for Ronin and Hadama, at like, four in the morning. I don’t think they really care,” came on a pout; one of the opportunities for her vehemence that had been obliterated because they’d opted to just go for other demigods within the same instances. But the timing aspect, the way they didn’t seem to give a fuck about others’ lives, hadn’t fully made its way into her scope until he’d said it. “I wonder if it’s like that for the heralds too, y’know, people yanking them from whatever they’re doing.” Sleeping. Eating. The implication of other things made her blush; cheeks flushing at the thought of having a grand ol’ time with one’s partner and ending up thrown into the middle of a battle.

But then his rage seemed to be directed at the sandwich, and she breathed a little lighter, trying to find ways around not having him turn his bread to toast. Unless that worked for him. “Yeah, well. We’ll see, I guess. I talked to him about it.” She might even inquire to Remi and Ronin next, given how frequently they were pulled from their own business. “Just don’t be surprised if I’m randomly gone and then back,” she quirked with half a grin; tearing off the ends of her sandwich and granting a bite to Sila and Fangorn hovering nearby.

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

The casual mention of another channel has him doing a doubletake. Quickly he swallows down the bite he'd nabbed after realizing he'd keep going on and on about it if he didn't put his sandwich back in his face. "Threw...ducks, at your uncle?" One 'brow rises in mild wonder. "Definitely sounds better, but still seems like an unnecessary time to bother you with a channel," he grumbles, wondering what that one's outcome would have been if she'd ended up wielding something more potent against family. He knew she didn't mind the ridiculous, and he'd rather that than something more dangerous, but it all seems too frivolous to be interrupting her with.

His ire doesn't settle, not when he needs to make sure she isn't wandering around thinking herself lesser because of the choices of some channel-monkeys. She is remarkably calm about it all though, and that's some form of an anchor through this heat rising up behind his eyes. "I guess needs arise at any hour of the day," he concedes unhappily after hearing about Hadama and Ronin's rather early awakening. "Do they even like, thank you afterwards?" It doesn't fix the upheaval of everything, but at least it'd show some consideration for how easily they just yanked on an unseen chain.

He shudders at the thought of being so bound by something.

Six seconds seems just long enough to be awful, and what if it's people she cares about that she isn't sure she even defended in time, or fully? Maybe at least knowing they're in trouble, and getting a chance to try for them is worth it, but to him it rather sounds like a fucking curse. He'd rather the bliss of ignorance and the freedom not to answer some divine dog whistle.

"I'm sure," he murmurs in reference to the heralds. "You should ask Ludo next time what it'd been doing, see if it has anything of note." Of all the heralds, he suspects Ludo has the most random shit to get up to and pulled away from. Tempering his magic back to keep from completely crisping his sandwich, especially once she reassured she'd already spoken with Kaisel, Iskra nods gruffly. "You should toss him in the ocean next chance you get, for good measure," he suggests with a grumble of a bite. It cronches now.

Glancing sidelong at her and her warning, he tries to find some of the lighthearted aspects of it, for her sake. It's part of what she does, being angry about it won't help anything except ruin this day. "Definitely will still be surprised if you just up and vanish and then reappear," he grins faintly. "So what's it feel like, the...teleporting?"

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

What the Honeybee had deigned appropriate for channeling in her time as an Accepted – battle – didn’t seem to be the same for others. “I think I mostly used mine for the middle of something dangerous. But I’ve seen a lot just waste it too.” Like when Zavien called for Ludo, before his untimely death in Halo, and with nothing specific, the herald had given them duck-themed outfits. She’d appreciated it, but it hadn’t anything to spurn them onward, and in the end, she’d done a majority of the work. Everyone else had either escaped or perished. “Maybe it’s a learning curve,” for many; she could only shrug, all the rage of those moments gone, dimmed to something irritating but hopeful some sagacity had come of it.

As for gratitude, her eyes widened for a moment, having never thought of it at all. “I don’t…think so? But I’m not there long enough, so...,” even if they had, on the winds of being sent back to start, she couldn’t be certain. She had for all the times she’d channeled the range of heralds, grateful, hopeful, full of vehemence, but maybe they didn’t consider Melita’s time worth it. Not after napping or throwing ducks. Nor had she even given the notion of knowing what came after; if summoned during a siege, if barreling down a monster, if tied and knotted and gnarled to other parameters and fixtures. It hadn’t come up yet. She shrugged, extending a sigh before delving further into her sandwich, feeling like she was simply bringing the mood down.

But she could always ask Ludo on her next visit, so she nodded, nose wrinkling in wonder. Her senses and features altered drastically though at his insinuation, smile returning in a hasty, devilish grin. “I already punched him. And yelled. A lot.” If Kaisel didn’t get the point thereafter, then she wasn’t certain what else to do (more violence). Then Iskra had a faint grin and she took a long breath, salvaging what she could. “Kinda like…being yanked on a chain? It’s really fast. You don’t know where you’re going until you’re there, and someone is shouting at you.”

salvation doesn't look like light

Iskra

Find something you can hold on to
Find someone who'll be there for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

Never having had the ability to channel, he's not accurately able to imagine the feeling, but the thought of being limited to only two attempts a season makes him think he'd choose his times wisely. "If it was me, I feel like I'd be worried to spend them too fast. I can't imagine only having the option to use my magic twice in a period of time." He glances down at his hand, wriggling his fingers as he considers the potential of all the possibility inside them. "Then again...if it's a well that refills, seems worth emptying when you can too." Which, leaves him with no clear answer, and ultimately he doesn't need one so he shrugs.

Mumbling a bit around a bit, he adds some clarity with a raise of his hand. "No, I meant like, a letter or something after. A proper thank you for taking your time to fulfill their bullshit." A gift, even. Nothing too fancy, just some fruit or a jar of honey maybe. A nice-smelling soap, perhaps.

Her admittance of doing more than just talking to Kaisel earns an approving chuckle, gaze gleaming when it flicks to her in the moment before he takes another sip from his glass of wine. "I would expect nothing less," he admits, in fact he might be disappointed otherwise. She deserved to after that sorry scene.

He shakes his head though as he puts the wine back down. "Admittedly, sounds rather terrible. Although, maybe you should give some thought into always arriving in a certain pose. You know, a style. Could grant you notoriety." A joke, mostly.

Find somewhere you can come home to
Find someone that'll die for you
'Cause that's all that really matters in the end

melita

Finishing off her sandwich, she brushed her hands together, mind reeling back to the times she’d contained the channeling portions. “Depends on preferences, I guess,” she shrugged, knowing hers had been vastly different from those simply channeling at end of seasons or because they wanted to use those opportunities when and where they could. But the act itself almost didn’t seem to matter, nor the people involved – and it left Melita wondering if the rest of the masses simply saw the demigods as another tool. She found she didn’t quite like that thought either, and the juxtaposition, parallels, and nonsense made her brows furrow, coming together on a sigh as she grabbed for her bag.

She paused to snort and laugh at his inquiry though. “No, not at all.” Given how they’d handled her presence at all, especially Kaisel, she expected little to nothing. Though she winked at his regard, preening and raising her chin in a seditious manner, ensuring that crown looked like it belonged there.

Whipping out her surprise, a very nice cheesecake that had somehow managed to survive the trip and all her running and jostling, she presented it with a flourish. “Ta-da! And then we can use the berries as a topping!” Layering it out along the quilt and rocks, she was grateful for his addition to foolishness, rather than further contributing to the morose mood settling through her shoulders; peeks of the sun, when and where she could. “A pose? You’ll have to give me some ideas.” If there was a hint of a smirk, it was wholly intentional.

salvation doesn't look like light