fight for the things that crack light into your life

MELITA

Rather than stick to the bonfires and beaches, Melita sequestered them closer to the tranquil Miana Pool; boasting its edges with an array of colorful lanterns she’d managed to snag and sort through, impressed with the array of hues brought to flame. Placing them along the water’s edge, amidst the endless evening, at least left a serene aspect rather than the restless toils curled under her pulse like a sleeping lion; ready to snap and claw at the slightest provocation.

Half-tempted as she was to mire away at current matters, the reality was that she couldn’t do anything about the situation at hand until LongNight was over. There’d be no calling to Safrin amongst the dirges, and she wouldn’t be able to find Ludo until then. No use in scrambling through undergrowth or clambering on edges of potential – so her attention was occupied by Iskra, as it probably should’ve been all along.

Laid across the massive towel in her Ludo-embossed bikini, swinging her legs back and forth, she aimed to relish the twilight and him, salty breeze clambering over and around, waiting for him to settle before she rolled over to her bag. Fangorn grumbled out of the way, and she tossed him and Sila (on guard, perched upon a favored, flattened rock) a treat before she started to unfurl any manner of mischief towards Halovian reaches. “I got you something~,” she sing-songed, leaving it to his curiosity as she began pulling fabric out of the tote.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

More than content to leave the revelry behind, Longnight still young (he thinks, it's hard to keep track hoenstly), he follows her without hesitation. He is here for her after all, and as exciting as Encantado fire-hoop jumping is, nothing tops just idling away the hours in her company.

As the towel settles over the sand and the side of the pool, Iskra crouches down to help straighten out the ends closest to him, brushing away any errant grains. When she sprawls out, he slides in beside her, facing the same direction but on his stomach, head turned towards her with a pleased sigh when the ground finally takes all his weight. "This is nice," he admits, the pair of them cast in the varying glow of the lanterns, the hushed sound of the pool lapping the sides of the shore drifting over the dark and the calm of the longnight.

It isn't long before she's already shifting, rolling away from him with an absence that immediately rouses a guttural complaint. Propping himself up more on his elbows, he cranes to see around her and what she's fishing out, dreadfully curious, especially when she claims it's for him. "What do you mean?!" he demands, a trill of alarm there, worried perhaps he's forgotten an important date and far too empty handed to reciprocate.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

“I thought we could go swimming, but y’know, not be run over,” for as delightful and entertaining as the dolphin launching through fire parties were, it made for a greater difficulty of accomplishing other means. She had a few tricks up her sleeve there too, but she’d wait, still humming under her breath as she purposefully made slow work of opening her bag.

His alarm was all she needed to incite and inspire a laugh, tucking herself lower so he couldn’t see much over the expanse of her shoulders. “What do you think I mean? I got you a present.” In the back of her mind, there didn’t need to be any inciting reason (even if there had been, and it was in some part to spite Kaisel), other than spoiling him. “Kaisel said I probably wouldn’t be able to get these, and he was wrooooong~,” ended on another tune that carried no melodic frames whatsoever, before pulling out the fabric.

The same board shorts the Accepted had bragged about had been found, and extorted by yours truly, were unfurled before Iskra’s eyes. Black at the top before they faded into a nearly gilded ombre effect with honeycomb detailing, the Honeybee was clearly spelled out in small text. “And there’s more!” Because she’d bullied the worker. Turning back, she grabbed hold of another bundle, snagging at a matching sweatshirt with bees along the sleeves, before handing them all over for his inspection and perusal.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

"It's like you read my mind," he hums through the smile at her reasoning. "My favorite thing is not being run over." Suffice to say Goose has barrelled into him quite enough that this is a more true statement than joke.

Maybe they're not at risk of trampling, but the serenity that enveloped them upon first coming here doesn't linger. Perhaps he should never expect it to in her presence, and that's fine by him. "This is the present," he justifies, leaning from one side to the other in an increasingly poor attempt at seeing past her. There's no hope, especially not once she hunkers down with all the covert talent of a mother hen hiding away her eggs. "Having you all to myself for a while is gift enough." he's contemplating reaching out an arm and grabbing hold of her to physically wrestle her away from the bag, or hoisting himself up to a more proper stance and ruining the idea that neither of them would get run over here.

The start of her explanation proves so utterly baffling that it stops all other thoughts of how to drag her away. His features scrunch up, a corner of his mouth parting, and from there a "Wha—" starts to form. As the board shorts unfurl in all their glory though, the words fade out, focus sweeping with no less bewilderment over the garment, at first, before a laugh and a reach for them breaks through like sunshine parting a cloud.

"Are these Honeybee branded!?" Although his enthusiasm for collecting clothing and brands doesn't reach above the level of 'does this fit' and 'does this work well', he is more than thrilled to see her talents properly on display for the world to acknowledge, and is not above guiding people to take a look for themselves. Well, to some extent, look too long and that'll be its own problem.

And there's more! comes out like a late-night infomercial, blowing the minds of couch-side shoppers who had already been impressed before but now are unfurling their checkbook with urgency. Laughing, a sound of happiness rather than humor, he takes the sweatshirt in hand too. His current shirt is immediately yanked up and tossed to the side on the towel, bare skin gleaming in the lanternlight for a moment before he pulls the hoodie over and gets to his feet, board shorts still held in one hand for the time being. "How's it look?" he wonders, modeling the top for a moment before glancing down to see it for himself.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

“That’s your favorite thing?” she quipped in return, waiting for him to backtrack and fill in the gaps laden with a joke – figuring Goose would take top tier. But then she was busy fending off his attempts, huffing little breaths as she ducked closer to vantage points and hidden garb, knowing the statements were true but understanding there was potential for trickery and deceit. “We need to get you out more.” Glancing up to see him hovering nearby, she narrowed her eyes and proceeded to grant a grand smile, meant to be entrenched between subterfuge, wiles, and affinity, as if he couldn’t have one without all the others. Perhaps not, when it came to her. “Very sweet, but not going to get you anywhere faster.”

She was too excited to do the reveal anyways – so the statement didn’t hold much water as she unfurled the clothes. She preened, grin wide and ebullient, the moment his enthusiasm manifested, inwardly grateful it’d gone this way and not some other disappointed and denounced potential (then she’d have to wear her own merch line and that seemed a little too on the nose, even for Mel). “They are! Rare too, according to Kaisel – whatever the fuck that means,” she shrugged, eyes running over him (for many reasons), but mainly to watch and witness the excitement. It wasn’t unlike when he’d been a boy, and she let a little pang in her heart twist and turn, content that her notions had followed through and he could have another spark, another instant, free from worry or drink or whatever else plagued.

But thereafter, she was quite free to take him in, shirtless and then not (they could make a pattern of that too), she patted herself on the back. Sitting upwards, then she tilted her head, studying and examining with the pretense of a studied air, as if she had any room to judge on the matter. “Well, give a spin, need the full show,” she glorified with a twirl of her finger. “And the shorts too,” was a wink and a nudge, because quite frankly she’d make an attempt to get them off him soon enough anyway. “I think they look good. How do they feel?”

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

"Okay," he says with a pointed brow. "It's one of my favorite things." No, he would not be ranking them.

Snorting at the idea that he said such things only to try and speed her along rather than speaking his truth, he doesn't have the time to form a proper rebuttal before the reveal is upon him and he forgets all about it in favor of admiring the clothing. Rare he mouths after her, not quite sure the implications that has with attire. "Sounds expensive," he accuses, a worry creasing his brow when he looks over to her. "Although, I suppose Honeybee merch should be a step above." A difficult semblance for him, both of wanting her admired by all so they might see her as grandly as he does, everyone scampering around with some variant or another of her name stitched to them, and equally desiring to keep her all to himself, the Honeybee's price tag keeping it from being for just anyone as is rightfully so, she is not without value.

He doesn't linger on the theoretical for long, rising to his modeling career before her, giving a slow spin as requested and a small bow. One hand runs slowly over the little bees on the sleeve, smiling at the cute detail, and he wonders if he shouldn't get a version inked onto him to match the other stories written on his skin. "Of course the shorts too!" he tsks her, "hold your horses."

Turning about so his back is to her, because two can play this game, he drops his drawers and steps into the newest board shorts. She'll catch a bit of the full moon in the process, although the bottom of the sweatshirt hangs low enough to shelter her from it's full glint. With shorts secured he hops back around, properly twisting, turning, and looping his hands about in the process. "They feel great!" he assures, a sly grin edging in on one corner. "Doesn't come close to the real Honeybee holding me, but good enough." The Ludo line is out.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

Melita would be very intrigued in his rank and filing system of favorite things, but when he didn’t linger on the subject she let it quietly disperse (she could always pester later). Admittedly, it hadn’t been expensive because she’s been a bullying asshole, but she continued preening instead of relenting the potential use of force. “Anything for you,” she winked, and at the mention of Honeybee merch being a cut above (of what, she couldn’t say), she raised her chin higher, on the fringes of seditious pride for being herself.

Having instigated the modeling show, the Honeybee stuck her fingers between her lips and unfurled a low and promising whistle, then a corresponding clap for good measure. Fangorn waved his vines around, eager to participate. The vampire gourd, thankfully, lacked her raking eyes and indulgent tilt of her head, intending to commit every little movement and motion to memory of him showing off.

Figuring she was going to get a free show either way, her jaw dropped when he was subversive in his own measures (though, to be fair, she did get a little slice of cake), eyes narrowing as if she’d been deprived. With another plot forming, as was often the case with little impulse control, her eyes narrowed in obvious speculation, grin forming to match his at the next response. A wily, challenging thing to say after bereaving her of things the demigod thought she deserved. “We could test it out,” at which notion she promptly stood, making her way over to him, hands intending to snake along waistbands and hems.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Despite his tendencies to loiter in solitude and press himself into the background like a sheet of wallpaper, Iskra has never minded the spotlight. A childhood spent farming laughter like happiness had to be stolen from the world by way of force of a good show, he has nonetheless lost the luster for demanding the world a stage. He might lose himself to the boisterous qualities once in a while at the bar, or slip into a bristling fury that did not mind the onlookers, but those are less him stepping up to a stage, and more the act of stumbling onto one, the world full of them. With her though, it's always been easy to find that old stride and beggar a laugh from the universe again.

With her cheers, his flaunting only increases, arms flexing (rather pointlessly beneath a sweatshirt), and his hair tossed back with a shake of his head. He feels content in that role, but as she rises with a very obvious intent, color races to his cheeks with a shyness she has also always been able to command. In boyhood, it was the flush of something he didn't understand yet or have a name for—not lust so much as he just felt more whenever he was with her, and found things improved by her company like none other. Now though, all too aware, the knowing still brings back that wild flush of giddiness that there could be something so right in the world as knowing her.

"I happen to know that you'll ace that test. We've been studying so well lately." He grins as she slides around him, fingertips trailing the edge of skin and fabric. From the week in Halo to the week here, it's been deeply satisfying to wake up so often beside her in bed. His arms slip over her shoulders, brushing back her hair and folding around behind her head as though a trap he's set and not one of her own doing. It keeps her drawn close to him, allowing the slow removal of distance as his head dips down towards her, lingering at the point where their breath mingle. His gaze lifts from the shape of her lips, catching her eyes, where his smile stretches out in response. Then he closes the remaining space and claims her mouth with his, one hand cupping behind her head as he presses in with all his gratitude.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

If there was anything Melita had learned over the years, it was to take those chances. Snag opportunities. Drag her way towards them with bared teeth and claws if she had to. Soak in everything for what it was worth – whether it be violence or love and all the contorted measures in between. So they could parade around a pool of water and laugh in the darkest of nights, to savor something more than all the pain and torment they’d had to go through to get here.

She admired and shook her head, giggled amidst the echoes and throngs as he flexed, clapping along and encouraging the antics until she could step within his threshold and have that too. Perhaps one day she’d be used to the promise of his presence, instead of always thinking she’d have to grab and hold for as long as she could. That inherent fear of loss, after so many, eternally gnawed at the back of her mind, which was why she sometimes grasped too tight or lingered when she should’ve run or bulldozed. “So much confidence,” she wrinkled her nose on a tease, tilting her head to look him in the eye with an air of mischief and other whims, less mercies. “Unless you don’t want to practice anymore?” Meant to invoke or grate or simply taunt for the sake of it, no meaning behind it other than to incite a reaction.

The one she received had been the initial intention though; settling her there in his potential tether like she’d willingly walked into the snare. Which one had set it didn’t particularly matter, not when they were content to stay there – and her brow quirked, watching him from beneath her lashes, waiting to see if he took the opportunity or if they were going to keep up the dance. Her eyes narrowed, catching his, leaving the challenge there for the taking; because if he didn’t do something then surely she would –

Then there was no need. Caught, he claimed her mouth and she smirked into the traces, pressing back with all the confidence mustered, earned, and shared, closing her eyes to relish in the feel, the taste, of him. Only when her teeth dragged across his bottom lip did she pull back slightly, studying, scrutinizing, hands wandering their way from sweatshirt hems and short waistbands to his arms, the back of his neck. “Come swim with me?” deliberately poised as another part of the plan – using these long nights for all manner of indulgences.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

The kiss leaves him smiling too much to respond at first, content to linger in the wake of it and the warmth of her pressed close, her hands still wandering over him as if she can't quite decide what she wants to hold onto first. He certainly isn't helping matters, making no move to step away, head dipped slightly toward hers as though the space she'd put back between them is already too much. There is something dangerously easy about falling into these moments with her, becoming greedy for every touch, every laugh, every look she gives him.

A laugh slips out a moment later, low and warm. "The full test for these shorts." Board shorts, after all, are meant to get wet. His fingers slide over one of her hands where it rests on him, threading through hers and capturing it there, holding it against him for a bit longer. Then he gives her a gentle squeeze before starting to walk her back to the water's edge where the lanterns cast their reflections over the pool in fractured ripples of color. "Are they color-changing?" he wonders with a playful edge. "Maybe they get brighter when they're wet. Reveal secret Honeybee writing all over them."

His free hand slips beneath the hem of his sweatshirt, taking the undershirt with it as he slowly pulls both upward, freeing his skin for the seat of her hand that had been at his waistband. Fabric drags over skin inch by inch, revealing the array of his ink, before he finally peels everything over his head and lets it hang from one hand, releasing hers in the process. The cooler night air settles over him immediately, and he rakes a hand back through his hair before looking at her again. "How could I say no?"

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

Her eyes narrowed speculatively when he didn’t rise to her bait; either he’d seen through them, or she needed to come up with more convincing angles to taunt with. Marking that in the back of her mind, she let the rest of the portions seize where they fell, a grasp of his skin, a line to be drawn back along water’s edges, and questions that had her huffing or laughing when her mind could concoct a response other than what she intended to test on him. “If they’re not, then they’ve wasted an opportunity,” she chided – though she paused to sidle along the fringes of the pool, purposefully dipping her toes in the water while she tapped on her chin. “And what Honeybee writing would that be? My favorite insults?”

Grinning at such a thought, because there were many, she glanced back just in time to see his skin freed once more from the golden sweatshirt. Absorbed in watching the slow freefall, and presuming he was doing it entirely on purpose, she took it in with her greedy, hooded, avaricious little stare, then a feral smile to follow; much too aligned with her current thoughts.

But rather than reach out and take immediately, she dropped the rest of the way into the fathoms, delicately plopping out of arm’s reach. If Iskra could predict what was coming, he probably had an opportunity to escape and evade the eventuality, as she dipped her hand underneath, then rapidly lifted it upwards, slapping a jettison of water his way. Then, subsequently cackling, and swimming across the portions in rapid succession.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

He'd meant to answer her question with more than words. Drown out the wonder with enough evidence to make her perish the very thought that he'd ever want to stop, practicing or otherwise. Something warm and slow and certain, which he still means to deliver, the intent sitting like hunger in his gaze as he holds her firmly in it. He's convinced he needs to do no more than allow himself to be caught in her grip, or now, as she's pulling away, return the favor.

A deep, shaking laugh erupts at the notion that it'd be insults appearing on the fabric. "I meant more bees or your name in a pattern, but insults are very on brand too." His brows lift, playfully encouraging. "What might I find, then?" He angles a look down at the shorts, smoothing a hand over one leg as though expecting words to materialize. He could think of a few as well, but he'd prefer to hear the list from the queen bee herself.

His attention drifts from the board shorts quickly enough, however, because she's slipping away from him and toward the water. Gods, Torchline has always suited her. The lanterns catch in her hair and dance across her skin while she moves along the edge of the pool, and his gaze follows without shame, lingering with quiet appreciation over the easy grace of her, over the sun-kissed expanses that Halo's layers never afford him to admire. Every now and then, he thinks he could spend the rest of his life simply looking at her. Which is exactly why he notices far too late that she's dipped her hand beneath the water, caught not on what she's doing, but how well she looks while doing it.

The splash catches him squarely. "Hey!" he admonishes as he's startled from his appreciation. He jerks back a fraction too slowly as cool water spatters over his chest and stomach, fresh and crisp with sensation. Her cackling is answered in turn with his own sputtering laughter. "Oh, that's it."

The words come with mock outrage as he lunges forward, breaking into a few quick strides before throwing himself into the pool in a spectacular cannonball, aiming to land close enough that the resulting wave chases after her. Water crashes upward around him, cool and dark and glittering in the lantern light. When he surfaces again, hair slicked back and grinning like a menace, he wipes water from his eyes and fixes her with a look of playful determination. "You're in trouble now, Honeybee." Then he's after her.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile

MELITA

Melita had meant to guile him into it; lure and entice where, ignorantly on her part, she didn’t need to. Half of the wonder were her own insecurities anyway, banking on amusements in between their misunderstandings and tying off the bewilderment with a new form of patience. But sometimes she wanted to hear that echo and refrain, have it in the palm of her hands or on her mouth or somewhere etched along them so there was no need to second guess. Jokes delayed a crushing blow, dazzling grins manifested in ease and earnest and hope and all those other filaments that collided and connected in her ribcage. He hadn’t been put off by demigodhood and he’d only been confused by the intertwining of multitudes of information all at once, but then sometimes she wondered if it was just too much.

So the allure of fun, frenzy, and stupidity called and beckoned; clambered around her ears just as much as wanting him there. Freedom, liberation, from others and quests, to have one another in whatever shape they craved or needed. Giggling already at the prospect of antics, his own buoyant laughter echoing around the rocks and lanterns set her bewitched little heart at a steady pace. “Mm. Dickwad could be one. Fuckhead, another personal favorite.” Variations could be transposed and crisscrossed over the material, but she had her doubts – her gaze floating to the shorts in question, then to the man, the telltale gaze sharp and wanton.

Watching him watching her, as it turned out – because while she’d seen him in the reaches of Halo, nothing much compared to when he was reflected in fire, muscles and flesh and everything else taut in hues of embers and heat. Naked beside a hearth. Wrapped up in one another on his wood floor. Here in Torchline though, there was not much to be hidden either, and she had him all to herself again, cultivating favors in lights and water. Her appreciation might’ve been quiet too, but certainly unmasked; gaze raking over him like coals, down to her teeth pressed over her bottom lip, before grinning, ducking away beneath the surface of the pool.

She took advantage of his own observations not quite reaching all synapses; cackling like a witch as he was startled from his staring. The promise of vengeance didn’t bother her as much, she knew he wouldn’t let it stand, and so silenced her giggling for reaching below as the veneer was shattered by his cannonball exposition. The waves ricocheted regardless, so when she returned to air it still sloshed over her, careening and bouncing back from the rocky walls. “Hey, do you have water magic?” she screeched as he came towards her, because if so, she had plenty of other opportunities up her sleeve, but then she was careening towards the opposing shoreline, kicking her feet deliberately to ensue massive splashes in his wake.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Iskra

Dickward at once earns an immature snap of his lips, amusement not needing to fight too hard to take the throne of his expression. Fuckhead undoes the remaining composure, a snorting laugh escaping him of its own accord. "I thought you meant full on phrases," he hums over the childish tittering at the foul words. "Out of my way, dickwad!" He does an attempt at her angry, parking voice, which people barely have a chance to hear as she whips the Firecracker around at such speeds.

Well, he'd soon find out, the water greeting him and his shorts before long. Although for the time being, he doesn't remember the potential for secret writing, too hastened after her. He reaches out a hand, desperately trying to grab hold of her fluttering feet. Even just a toe and he's sure he could reel her in, yanking her back through the water like an errant pool floatie. As it is, she's just ahead of him, and all the splashing from her feet makes it difficult to keep his head down as he pursues. "No water magic!" he calls back with a sputter after receiving a face full of water. "If I did, you'd be in my clutches already!"

He gives up on trying to just grab her and aims for a swift series of strokes instead, trying to close distance with uninterrupted speed. Then, if he can pull closer alongside her, he could dive in and hook her with an arm, hauling her closer.

I can see the sunshine for the first time in a while
It's like I've been baptized by the warmth of your smile