footprints left in the snow

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Melita had suddenly become very busy and responsible and she wasn’t certain she liked it. On the one hand, information was powerful, and she needed to ensure others knew what was going on. On the other hand, fuckin’ hell.

Regardless, the Honeybee would be a steadfast and loyal demigod to her herald, and forge onward. Whether anything, everything, or nothing was connected to the forefront of intermingling denizens, shifty dreams, and jungle exploits would remain to be seen – but she was certainly going to strive forward and see what could be done.

Ignoring the muddle of confusion in her brain, as it had rarely needed to think and plot in such ways, she’d dropped Iskra off at the skyport and shoved all those feelings down for later. On a side quest, she then ambled her way to shops and snagged at things she figured Ronin would like (Halovian whiskey) before finally making her way to the greenhouse.

Shoving her bag higher on her shoulder, she entered the threshold and was immediately greeted by the bewildering contrast. Humid and hot, she started to peel off layers, spying the coatrack near the door for the exact occasion. Thereafter though, her jaw dropped, having never been this way in all her exploits, and finding it an impeccable thing in the middle of nowhere and all this damned snow.

Recalling her actual mission, she glided through a series of well-kept plant life and vivid trees, whispering to others nearby gathering berries, and once they pointed her in the right direction, towards a cluster of bushes bearing fruit, she recognized the individual she’d purposefully come to see. But only because of dodgeball.

Clearing her throat, she put her hands behind her back and strived to look as innocent as possible, which…probably didn’t work. “Hey there – sorry to interrupt. You’re Amhran, right?”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

If it helps, Melita, Amhran is not accustomed to responsibility unless it comes from under Deimos's guidance, so this will be a rotten wake-up call for him as well. As the demigoddess marvels at Halo's greenhouse and makes her inevitable way towards him though, he contents himself in obliviousness for the time being. Busy collecting berries from the bushes bearing fruit and transferring them into neat little pallets to be carefully wrapped and moved out of the greenhouse later, Amhran is the picture of a man at home in the dirt as he works. The sound of her voice has him glancing up from his place on his knees, pants scuffed with soil with dark crescents under his fingernails too as he lifts a hand to swipe a lock of hair out of his face. "Oh, hallo," he says readily as his eyes land on the vibrant young woman. "It's no bother - the fruit isn't going anywhere. I am, yes. And you're..." His brows furrow for a second, trying to do her justice because it isn't as though she's unknown. "Melita," he announces at last, hoping he's correct. "Ludo's chosen. Right?" amhran amhran

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Melita could remember being oblivious. Gods, it was nice. And unfortunately, she had to wreck his. He seemed awfully young and peaceful, tranquil; in the serenity of his surroundings. The demigod had enough trepidation within her to slip the slightest grimace behind her smile, a long sigh unfurling at his very calm, poised, and dignified meandering through plant life. Nodding at the recognition of her existence, her grin tightened. “I am. I led the dodgeball game here for a bit – well, until Vesper and Iskra started punching each other.” At which she rolled her eyes, even if it was half in affection.

Nonetheless, she edged her way forward, fingers idly going towards some berry bushes, eyes surveying the enormous plethora of blackberries laden there. “That’s kinda sorta what I’m here about. Ludo has disappeared. Mort spoke to me about it.” Heaving another long breath and trying to quantify everything into simpler matters, she snagged at one fruit and avoided the thorns. “Were you at the Peepholes, when there were the glowing lights and weird dreams?” That would make explaining some portions much easier. Though, if not, Melita was prepared to be a little long-winded.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life