a conflict escalator

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Once home, Melita cast her way to the market, then the shrine, multitudes on her mind and several aspects probably needing to be addressed. Or at least verbalized, through the confusing haze, so after she’d taken strolls along merchant stalls and kiosks, she threaded her way towards the Port’s altar.

Trying to summarize the events at the Oerwoud came down to her initially snagging at shells around the shrine itself, and then placing them haphazardly until they formed somewhat of a picture of the beast she’d seen in the potent slumber – tilting her head this way and that, before figuring that would do for now. Thereafter, she placed the items, a grand variety for her favored god: hazelnut cream and chocolate bars, sour patch candies in the shape of kittens, and some toffee-layered coffee beans to munch upon, outfitted with a makeshift toy plow, in case Ludo ever felt inclined to have it hold the goodies or dig into dirt.

From there, she grinned, hopeful, staring upwards from her presented artifacts. “Hey Ludo. Not sure if you heard about all the shit that went on at the Peepholes,” and then she sighed, uncertain if this would qualify as too ‘serious’ or something not even worth mentioning. “But had some weird dream there. I didn’t know if it was like…,” she waved her arms upwards, meant to signify ‘do we need to do things about it’. “Anyway, I was hoping I could power up my confetti cannon again too. Really make it pop.”

--

Melita is looking for a quest from Ludo to upgrade her confetti cannon:

Magic: Confetti Cannon | Fires a magical blast of confetti at an opponent. Range: 30ft
Type: Grey | Rank: Upgraded | Cost: Action
Type: Grey | Rank: Upgraded | Cost: ActionType: Grey | Rank: Upgraded | Cost: Action

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

For a few minutes, nothing happens. The sweets remain where Melita has left them, bright and strange and charmingly mismatched around the shrine, the little toy plow sitting among them as if awaiting instructions from hands that do not come. Kaiholo carries on around her in its usual salt-bright clamour, with voices rising from the market, hels crying overhead, and the sea breathing steadily against the port, indifferent and constant.

Then the air warms; it is not the dramatic unfurling of death, nor the solemn hush that might be expected from the one who holds all endings in his hands. Instead, golden light gathers softly around the altar, spilling between the shells and offerings like late afternoon sun through leaves, though there are no towering trees here to catch it and no impossible canopy vanishing into the sky. Still, for just a moment, the shrine feels as though it remembers one.

Mort arrives looking faintly breathless, as if he has hurried. "Oh," he says first, softly and with immediate warmth, his smile appearing almost before the rest of him has fully settled into the light. "Hello, Melita. I’m sorry we haven’t met before." Mort's attention moves over the offerings with open delight, lingering on the kitten-shaped candies, the chocolate, the hazelnut cream, and the little plow with a fondness so sincere it nearly brightens the air by itself.

"We can certainly look at your confetti cannon," Mort says, smiling back at her as if this is no less important than any matter of souls or gods or all the wide and hidden roads between life and death. Then his expression gentles rather than darkens, concern arriving like a hand carefully laid over something fragile. "But first...when was the last time you spoke to Ludo?"

mort

Table base by Sky!

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

The silence was strange. Normally, Ludo’s appearance would come on waves of amusement, toys and candies disappearing, dissipated into cloaks or fingers. But today, naught happened, and her brows furrowed, the confusion riddling across her features. Perhaps she’d erred somehow – it wouldn’t have been the first, nor the last –

Except then there was a glowing light, an intonation of something familiar, but brief, in her experience. Stilling from where she’d stood with her shell drawing of perplexing dreams and candied concoctions, only her eyes darted around, trying to make sense out of the gilded semblances suddenly everywhere.

And then there was Mort.

Her gaze went impossibly wide then, and she looked around, as if expecting Remi to be nearby and this had been a call from elsewhere and redirected…except then he was addressing her, and she was gaping like a fish. “Oh, no, I’m sorry -,” because she hadn’t meant to call him and there must have been a thousand other things one of the Big Gods had to be doing. The unworthiness dug and she could feel her cheeks reddening, mind trying to comb over all the possibilities and finding it a spiraling nuance at best. “Is this about the Vi target?” she whispered, wondering if this was going to be a divine punishment and reckoning for silliness and spirits.

But when he didn’t begrudge or scold, she took a deep breath, swiping her hair out of her face and trying to present herself as something put together rather than a haphazard, wayward, demonic thing. The concern layered there…and then the question, left her reeling slightly, a little pit opening her ribs and stomach. “In Leafchange. Did…something happen or go wrong or?”

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

At Melita’s whisper, Mort gives a boyish chuckle and shakes his head at once, warm brown eyes alight with mirth. "Oh, no no, nothing like that," he says, his smile deepening until dimples appear in his cheeks. "If anything, I quite enjoy when Vi is able to have a sense of humour about things."

For a moment, that delight remains, bright and easy as sunlight caught between leaves. It does not vanish so much as soften when Melita answers him, the joy in his face dimming not with anger, but with concern. Mort nods slightly, gaze resting on her with a gentleness that makes no attempt to hide the gravity settling between them. "I do not keep close tabs on Ludo the way that Vi does on Safrin," he admits, a small sigh following the words. "It has always enjoyed its independence so much."

His smile lingers faintly, fond and sad all at once, before finally fading.

"But..." Looking at Melita now, Mort’s expression grows solemn. "Ludo has not come when I have called for it lately, either."

mort

Table base by Sky!

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

With Mort’s assurance that Vi hadn’t been bothered, nor that this was a visit cloaked in potential punishments, the Honeybee grew a little relieved – a long breath extending from her lungs. It was short-lived, however, once the rest of the motions came into play. Ludo and its independence, and suddenly, its disappearance. Her first thought was of childish rebellion, mostly because that was how her seditious side worked, but the other, fiercely protective and loyal, made her jaw clench and her brows furrow.

Because, truly, where else would Ludo be? Was it not heeding Mort for a certain reason, or that it couldn’t? Was it related to the shifty dreams within the Peepholes, or wholly disconnected, strange things occurring all at once and for varying different reasons?

As much as her notions went back and forth, Mort’s solemn gaze gave her a lurch, and she proceeded on a singular train of motions and notions. “Is there something I can do? Do you want me to search somewhere?”

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

At that, Mort smiles again, small but sincere, and nods. "That would be very helpful," he says, and though the words are simple, there is a warmth in them that makes gratitude feel almost tangible. He pauses then, thoughtful, his gaze shifting briefly over the offerings and the shell-made shape of Melita’s dream before returning to her. The golden light around him seems quieter now, less delighted and more attentive, as though even it has leaned in to listen.

"Perhaps," Mort says slowly, "you could get someone to call down Safrin and see if she knows?" There is no judgement in his voice when he says her name, only consideration, and the faintest curve of rueful fondness at the corner of his mouth. "I know she and Ludo have not always gotten along," he adds, "but if anything, I find that usually has resulted in her being more aware of what it is up to than others."

mort

Table base by Sky!

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Her mind began a mental catalog of potential Ludo dominions – figuring Halo was likely out, before Mort gave a more precise measure and potential direction. Her brows furrowed, perhaps either disappointed or dismayed she personally couldn’t do more in that interim, and she’d have to call in for further assistance. From Safrin of all worried her somewhat; though the Big God seemed to have already thought of that, given his following statement. “I can do that,” she assured with a nod just the same; motions already forming over short discussions with Flora, potentially, given her new status, and maybe something they might be able to accomplish before LongNight ensured far more silence and enigmas.

Then her gaze went to the shape of shells, to the modest formation of the strange dream she’d had. “Could…there be a connection between Ludo and the things that happened in the Peepholes?”

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

Mort pulls in a relieved breath, and the smile he offers Melita is warm enough to soften the solemnity that had gathered around them. "Thank you," he says, plainly and sincerely, as if the promise alone is something worth holding carefully.

At her next question, though, he tilts his head slightly, thoughtful. The faintest frown touches his brow, not severe, but intent, and for a moment the golden light around the shrine seems to still with him. For all of the gods’ omniscience, it is not the sort of endless awareness that rolls over them in passive waves. It is targeted, deliberate, a looking rather than a constant knowing. And when Mort is not looking, the day-to-day of the living world has a way of drifting past him like leaves on a wide river.

He has heard vague things about the Peepholes. Dreams. Strangeness. Something wrong enough to ripple outward. "I’m not sure," he admits, shaking his head slightly before offering her a boyish smile of apology. "That would be much more Rae’s domain than mine." His mouth tucks briefly to one side, almost rueful. "And given that only one aspect of Frey has demigods at the moment, I am not sure what Nature Frey might have to say about it all. It might be worth asking Rae's demigod to call them down, however..." Pausing, a dimple appears on one side of the god's face as he exhales with helpless amusement. "If what is occurring is a result of natural forces, Rae won't be inclined to offer much help, if any, no matter the consequences."

mort

Table base by Sky!

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

She tried to mask her expression of uncertainty when Mort delivered his own – discussing Rae’s domain, and the way she might have to pry and ask further, and results might not even matter. All she’d known of that particular Big God was much as Mort expressed; they were much more prone to let nature take its course, unless something could be measured, experimented, like with the Family. She had a feeling the intertwining dreams and strange occurrences in the Peepholes wouldn’t fall into either category. “Well, I can see about that too,” she uttered, brows furrowing once more, penciling it in amongst and amidst the list. Maybe Am…(what was that guy’s name??) would know whether it was worth pursuing or not.

Taking another deep breath and uncertain on which avenue to go within that very moment, her fingers folded over one another, intertwining while she contemplated. “Is there anything else I can do?”

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