Not fit for cocoa

ISKRA

Since Melita will in fact brave the cold for the sake of mischief, Iskra figures he can convince her to linger longer. Nothing quite so destructive as invisible snowball battles, just some dinner in town and a nighttime dip in the hotsprings he'd mentioned.

"Just in here," he says with an eager smile that he can't quite keep back. He purposefully waited until after sunset to meander here, when the beauty of this place could really shine for her. Despite her uncertainty about the whole affair, and she's surely going to take near an hour shucking off all her layers just to get water ready, he doesn't think anyone can deny the splendor of the sparkling spring.

Goose remains intentionally on the fringes of the area, preferring to keep to the chillier areas than get back near the heat of the springs. Iskra however has worn few layers on their walk here, so his excitement is half from seeing her reaction, and half from wanting to get his bones warmed up.

Got me singing in the pouring rain
Got me wrapped around her finger
Well pardon my manners
Just something about you turns me to a savage

MELITA

While she would like to consider herself unpredictable, Melita had in fact done the usual bit when she visited Halo. Nearly covered from head to toe in woolen pants, sweaters, scarves, mittens, and hats, she resembled something like a ballooned figurine – waddling, not unlike a penguin, across the snow with a pouting expression behind the stolen muffler. It might’ve been considerably easier for her to simply roll around and make it there, but determined, spiteful, and stubborn, she pressed her weight amidst the boots and curled her nose at every damned aspect.

Nor would she admit that, upon glancing at the Safrin’s Mirror, that the place was beautiful. It really had no right to be – not with carrying the goddess’s name. The lights dazzled and the water twinkled, starlit and promising, plumes of hot air escaping into the frigid expanse. It might’ve taken her breath away, had she not been muttering to herself about a hundred other irritations.

She had half a mind to stay back there with Goose, but instead waded her way over to the edge, peering down, and then sat on the fringe, still quite fully clothed. “Gonna be one of those fuckin’ popsicles,” she uttered, though didn’t chance a glance Iskra’s way, presuming he’d already started laughing. Once those layers were off, she figured she was a goner.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun

ISKRA

For what it's worth, Iskra would have happily rolled Melita here like the scene from Willy Wonka. Albeit she likely would have turned into a snowball somewhere along the way and become unmanageable, so it's for the best that she waddled.

Biting back a full on grin with his cheek pressing against his teeth, Iskra chuckles quietly. "Being cold is so much better," he says with a pointed arch of his 'brow. "Lots of nice ways to warm up..." if he trails off intentionally, it's to wave a hand towards the glistening hot spring as proof. It shimmers in open invitation, the steam breaking the diamonds scattered on the surface just enough for them to spill and reform elsewhere, the pattern repeating with a tireless shine.

"Warming up by a fire, beneath a cozy blanket, with a hearty soup or drink..." He starts to peel his layers off with each word, discarding it into a pile near the edge. Boots, gloves, socks, scarf, jacket, sweater, shirt...all starting to create a mountain of deepfrost armor. It's as he gets to his belt and pants that his attention lifts wolfishly to her, no less enamored even with all the puff she's buried beneath—not when he remembers too well the outline of curves his hands traced. "Or from someone else," he drawls as his pants give way and leave him just with his Ludo-pattern board shorts.

"Need any help?" he offers with a step towards her after distributing his bottoms with his clothing mountain. Given all her layers, he figures multiple hands might help.

Got me singing in the pouring rain
Got me wrapped around her finger
Well pardon my manners
Just something about you turns me to a savage

MELITA

She rolled her eyes at the initial comment, doubtful at the declaration, until he started filling in the insinuations. Her gaze flickered back and forth, from the springs themselves, and back to him as he started on the fuller descriptions, beginning to wrinkle her nose beneath the heavy scarf laden over it simply as defiance. Though she did appreciate a nice fire by the hearth and some blankets, and the notions of soup right now sounded wonderful, and her mind began to trail off to those rare comforts…

And then his other idea popped many more in her brain.

Narrowing her stare into suspicion, she half-wondered if the invitation had been to simply get each other unclothed in a different motion – and though she had no issue with said notions, there had to be easier methods than starting out in the gods-damned cold first. But then she was ultimately distracted by the way he was peeling himself out of his layers (entirely on purpose - she could’ve helped, an argument that bit against her teeth).

The Ludo patterned board shorts were the last straw though, and she broke away from the obstinate notions to laugh. “No, I’m good,” she chirped back out of stubbornness, and maybe she could just sit on the edge here and she’d just stare at him and that’d be all fine and dandy. But that meant she’d be left quite bereft, and so her brain spiraled in one of those very simple conundrums of both stupidity and impudence, and how far she’d be willing to go merely to be an outright mule.

So, on a sigh, as if a great burden had been placed upon her, she started to remove the outermost coat, and one hat, shucking buttons with her gloved hands. Perhaps she’d punish him (for what, who was to say) by taking her sweet time.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun

ISKRA

Unfortunately he is not rewarded with a blush, but he does once in a while capture the stare she lends him between layers, which is enough to set a boyish edge to his features. Even when she laughs, a sound that might deflate some, his smile only deepens.

That she denies an offer for help does not surprise him, though it is terribly inconvenient at times when she persists on being so headstrong. This is one such time, further delaying her hot spring experience. Now that it's at hand, his patience has only started to wear all the more thin. It's not that he's eager to be proven right when she thoroughly enjoys it—not entirely anyway—it's that it is truly enjoyable, and he wants all the world's delights to be given to her. Even better when he can be there too.

Halting in his tracks, knowing too well what coaxing her agreement further might accomplish (the ooposite), he settles instead to watch her sorry display. Fighting back the amusement that threatens to creep in, he folds his arms over his chest instead, head tilting as one is prone to do when looking at something curious. "Suit yourself," is all he offers, watching the glacial process of gloved hands working small locks.

Huffing out a silent laugh, he turns from her and wades into the reflection of the stars, goosebumps racing up his arms and swiftly vanishing to the water and its heat. He lets out an exagerrated groan of comfort as he eases into the full embrace of the pool, a small wake rippling out from his disturbance as he coasts onto his back. "Ahhh, so cozy," he flaunts, sparing a glance towards the stubborn marshmallow.

Got me singing in the pouring rain
Got me wrapped around her finger
Well pardon my manners
Just something about you turns me to a savage

MELITA

Melita was swiftly becoming aware of becoming a victim of her own defiance and obstinance. This wasn’t a first occurrence, nor would it be the last, but as he toyed his own teasing measures, she found herself grinding and clenching her jaw, eyes narrowed, increasingly annoyed that he hadn’t been bothered by her painstaking slowness. It seemed she was being punished for the stubborn and seditious will, and it was a little bite to the back of her mind as she deigned to lift her chin. It was hardly seen through the thick muffler and scarf over her features, but there just the same, gaze watching him as he waded further (and then she lost some of the image of his muscles as they disappeared into the springs, which was also a shame), and then he opted to float (exposing them again, so really, she was a bit torn) –

The fucking flaunting really began to ground on her gears, and she huffed again, removing one more coat and adding it to the slowly growing pile. Half of her wondered why she had to be so pigheaded and mutinous all the time, and the other portion merely contorted within her spine, an ongoing feud and battle of the Honeybee’s self-imposed impertinence. “Yeah, I bet,” she retorted weakly, slowly succumbing to the reality that she was being stubborn just for its own sake.

Maybe she’d fuckin’ nail him with a snowball again…

Sighing, and pretending he wasn’t influencing her decision in a variety of ways, she gave over another sweater (once more, stolen from him), and the initial layer of pants. Before long, she was down to the base layer, but her teeth had started chattering, body shivering, muttering stringing and muted as her scarf was ultimately removed. Already curling in on herself, peeling away the final portions seemed disastrous, but she did it quickly once she’d started, revealing naught more than her Torchline-influenced bikini, complete with greenery adorned in little palm trees and a rising sea.

Then, on desperation, she plunked herself in. It was an almost instant relief as the warmth enveloped over her, and she tried to hide the surprised and gratified gasp slipping from her open mouth. “I guess this is nice,” she admitted, already ducking down so the water could engulf her all the way up to her neck.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun

ISKRA

If he had any inkling of all the back and forth raging inside her, he would have opted to do more to persuade, or maybe been clever enough to lead her in such a way she wouldn't have to dig in her heels (alas, that requires awareness and tact). He at least knows he's not going to beat her in the stubborn game, which is perhaps one of the reasons they've always gotten on well—he's patient enough to see her through the moments where she hunkers down, and he doesn't expect them to change, they've been there all this time after all. It's no different than the way she idles whenever he drifts into melancholy, offering a hand when he needs it.

In this case, some taunting is the hand he's extending, quite at risk of having it bit too.

Now, there's a strip tease, and there's Melita disrobing in the dead of winter in Halo. It is a worthwhile show, and he keeps his gaze rather trained on her throughout it, trying not to be caught staring whenever her gaze flashes to him, afraid she might rear up and just depart entirely. Splashing every so often as he rolls and shifts in the pool instead, continuing to make dramatic sound effects of enjoyment, he does appraise her steady progress with an increasing return of his prior eagerness.

By the time she's left with mostly skin, he's openly watching her. The opportunity to truly appreciate her in full bikini splendor is short lived though, her body vanishing into the pool with a splash that douses him with a sheet of water. He turns away too late, the spray of it blasting against his ear and causing him to shake his head like a dog. Still, she's in, and he lifts his arms in a cheer. "Right!?" he agrees with a wide grin, surging closer to her as he shoves off a nearby wall, warm water parting around him like he is some magnificent sea creature—so it feels anyway, momentarily, while he has the speed of the push behind him. "I helped build this," he says with a touch of pride. "It was fucking awful," he soon follows up with a laugh. "So. Much. Digging. Thought my arms might fall off."

Got me singing in the pouring rain
Got me wrapped around her finger
Well pardon my manners
Just something about you turns me to a savage

MELITA

The springs persisted in leaving her nearly listless; warmth exuding and extending down her legs and over her arms, radiant and serene, and far more than she’d like to admit. She cast a blissful breath and eased herself back against one of the fixtures, half-tempted to close her eyes and disappear into the lull. Admitting that to herself came at a price though, because there Iskra was, surging over with a ripple and a wave, sending the water into her cheeks, casting another crimson glow to her features.

Taking him in, yet again, she found she was barely paying attention to his words, struggling to come up with something other than stupefied and muted staring. Taking a moment to retrieve any existing brain matter, she snagged at her crimson hair, striving to pull it back and tie it off in a neat, finished braid – picturing the woodcutter digging his way through the trenches of future springs and finding that didn’t really help either. “Turned out all right in the end, hm?” she hummed instead. “What else are you going to use all those muscles for?” A rhetorical question, considering she already had a couple of ideas floating in her mind.

Acting on neither, she instead gave a brief, devilish grin, and sent her arm through the surface of the water, casting a long splash in his direction.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun

ISKRA

Confessing his longstanding love to her had been a far easier task than navigating all the days that came after. She'd returned it, and so the answer and the next steps should have been easy, in theory. Often though, the magic of a night unravels in the morning, and what had seemed so straightforward by firelight with skin on skin, became convoluted in the daylight as to just what exactly they should be to one another. It's easier to just fall back into old habits, casting longing glances her way and coveting every moment at her side like it's something precious, not bothering to voice the churning feelings that thunder through him at each smile that blazes her features. Better to continue to chip away at distance with childish antics to trick her space into yielding to his, to find some breathless moment to lean in for a kiss instead of greeting her with them like they're as normal as the laughter between them is.

Though, he finds himself wishing for such simple lines to be redrawn between them. He wants his arm to find her waist like it's always been natural, but there's a hesitancy in his reach, the refusal of her hips far worse than the not knowing. So for now, he sticks with accidental brushes and hints, dancing around her through this because he doesn't quite know the right steps.

It's why he sails into her space now, gaze glittering nearly as much as the water bobbing around them with all the nightsky beauty written into its surface. Her remark stretches his grin back to full, and an arm lifts in query at his side as he glances at it. "Fair point, although I think we may be adding healing next to this...again. Not sure though, but if we are I don't think muscles will come into play much then." Which, isn't to say he won't still help, but maybe it'll involve less shovels. Truthfully though he's no idea where Halo's next projects lie—he tends to zone out in the meetings, focusing on whittling instead and just volunteering time and effort as payment when it's needed. The least he could do for this city. "I have been training more too," he tells her as his arm drops back into the water, warmth enveloping it once more. "We should have a proper spar some time soon," he challenges with a rough grin, more than willing to get her back between him and the ground.

As his attention rises back to her it's then that he sees the onslought of water driving for him like a custom tide. A surprised noise is all he manages before he's doused. Sputtering on the other end of it, his gaze narrows into the playful edge of an accepted war. "Oh, that's how it's gonna be, huh?" he asks with a merciless return fire soon thereafter, palms fisting up sheets of water in rapid succession towards her.

Got me singing in the pouring rain
Got me wrapped around her finger
Well pardon my manners
Just something about you turns me to a savage

MELITA

Melita might have had the same thoughts, but given her own experiences and trivialities in life, didn’t know what the pathway was either. Learning to survive hadn’t taught her much of anything but fortitude, malice, grit in her teeth and loss in her veins, and striving forward, amidst confessions and closely kept secrets, felt strange, overwhelming, and emerging into the unknown. Ordinarily she’d take no issue with embracing the chaos, with stepping out into clouds or dust or acrimony; this was something far bigger and richer and it involved Iskra - so other thoughts had to be rendered besides the mere impulses of her withered control.

She could’ve asked her uncle, or even Ru, for advice, but then hadn’t; kept everything besides anger close to her chest. Rage was easy. That seeped into her blood just as normal as breathing. Affection and love took far more to cultivate and navigate and figure out; vulnerability a very deliberate slope she had to tread upon. She didn’t even know what to say about what they were doing or who they were to one another now – how did one broach the topic? Should she just erupt at some point, like she had before? Perhaps the Honeybee had half-hoped he knew what was going on.

But much like when there’d been absent-minded kissing, and then much more, they circled around it – daring the other for exposition and explanation. Melita wasn’t certain whose turn it was now.

“You’d be surprised,” she arched instead, tilting her chin upwards, smile drifting into a catlike grin again, because that too had become something like armor in the place of the unknown. She wasn’t much of a healer – and knowing Ludo, it’d likely never become part of her repertoire, but she could understand its necessity. As for his training, one brow lifted, hearing the challenge in the notes. “Oh yeah? In what?” She bet she could beat his ass when it came to incantations (or, at the very least, trickery), the staff, bows and arrows…maybe not so much the ax, but she’d been playing around with it off and on. Knives and daggers were already an inherent skill –

But then there were other motions, and play was far simpler to justify. She laughed at his sputtering, giggling away until he returned fire, and she was immediately doused and soaked in the warm breadth of the springs. Rather than revel in being a drowned rat, she sent another wide spray, slapping at the water so that it could send a nice array towards his face again. Then, striving to make an evasion, she dove beneath, intending to make a streamlined swim towards the other side.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun

ISKRA

It seems she took the idea of a spar quite to heart, and preferred not to wait when they had weapons aplenty at their disposal here and now. In what? doesn't quite seem to matter now when they're trading miniature waves like two seas in argument with the moon. It's a difficult task to juggle, shielding his eyes from the tepid spray while also keeping sight of her so he can aim his next liquid assault meaningfully. Her slap does send up droplets in a scattered array though, forcing him to retreat for a beat as he has to wipe the water from his face. His smile stutters through, dripping and vengeful.

When he recovers fully though, it's to find she's torpedoing through the pool, soon to be out of reach before long. "No you don't," he shouts after her, gasping in a breath as he plunges down in pursuit. He purposefully drops straight down with a mild bounce before sinking under, trying to use his body weight to drag him close to the bottom, kicking up off it so give him enough speed to reach her. He extends a hand towards her kicking feet, trying to snare her leg and haul her back towards him.

It's certainly easier to do this, where the rules are simple and clear, or maybe most importantly, practiced. Where touch isn't so much a chance and a risk, as part of it, expected, and from there maybe an opportunity to turn it into something more, depending on how the game evolves.

Got me singing in the pouring rain
Got me wrapped around her finger
Well pardon my manners
Just something about you turns me to a savage

MELITA

Her fractured thoughts didn’t seem to matter in the slightest for the moment; caught and tethered by the aspects of old, primordial habits – headed right down into juvenile tendencies than anything mature or guiding. The edge of his vengeful smile was all she saw before she dove down, utilizing those strong swimming skills to veer away and across, striving to stoke all areas of grace and elegance and speed into the swift beats below.

She could hear him plunge after her though, and not panicking, because this was also a frequent occurrence, she shifted directions, like a rapid, darting fish, heading towards another section. The problem was that she didn’t know the pool well enough to judge distance and space between, and before long, she was caught outright by another wall, and came up to the surface to get some air. Perhaps then, she could figure out the next steps in the rampant, contagious stupidity.

Taking a gulp, she glanced to see where he was, just in time for her ankle to be snagged, and hauled directly back into his path. Laughing, she splashed and kicked, her free foot trying to make a connection with some portion in order to be immediately liberated.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun

ISKRA

She had the lead on him, and admittedly his swimming skills aren't as sharp as they once were. You don't exactly swim in a hot spring, you usually just soak, and there's no tide besides. All the beaches around here are cold year-round, and he'd avoided Torchline like it was a plague for years. Some of the more wild beaches scattered around he visited rarely, preferring not to rile up the memories that the shore liked to keep, at least not until now.

He's not entirely without capability in the water, and her lack of familiarity here is all the time he needs to close the gap. If she's wild on her own, caught she's utterly impossible. His success is short lived, his own laughter ringing out deep with complaint as he fights to keep hold of her and rein her in. The mirth twists abruptly into a sharp grunt as her other foot bashes his chest, acting like a spring-board that shoots her out of his grip. "Gods, Mel," he chokes out as he gathers breath back, running a hand over wet hair to slick it back out of his face.

His gaze cuts sharply over the recently turbulent waters, trying to search for where she'll spring up so he could wade after her. "You know most people come to the springs to relax," but he's already laughing, because she has never been most people, and that's part of her charm.

Got me singing in the pouring rain
Got me wrapped around her finger
Well pardon my manners
Just something about you turns me to a savage

MELITA

Maybe that was part of her problem – the wildness, the untamable streak flickering through her veins. Never quite knowing how far she’d have to traverse until she could screech at the top of her lungs and there’d be no one to hear. Except, that wasn’t what she always craved, and it was difficult to manage through her hare-brained schemes and foolish notions, that evasion and escape could only hasten others to follow so many times. Before they tired. Before they stopped chasing. Before it was no longer just a game and things unfurled to such a degree that she didn’t fathom portions until it was much, much too late. Then people and places were gone, and Melita was once again just a figment, just a spark, just an ember, with naught left to set aflame.

So while she kicked and he sputtered and they laughed, she dove down again, but instead of rampaging away, she circled. Not unlike a shark or some avian predator, she mired her way around him, always at an arm’s length or a hand’s grasp. “Yes, but this is relaxing to me,” she grinned in response, catlike and doused, sodden from head to toe.

Opting for coyness and maybe to see if he’d dart after her again, she turned over, floating, letting the coolness of the Halo air conspire with the molten springs; an altogether fascinating semblance of feeling along her skin, occasionally brushing past him, half a dare, half a conspiracy, waiting to pull the snare. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun