all you have is your fire

to be lit up from within

vein by vein

Maybe it was too late for his concern. Maybe she didn’t care anymore. Maybe it’d all be for naught, and she’d be wandering straight into something she couldn’t handle. “I might.” What held her here, besides him? Especially when he clearly didn’t need her? Her arms unfolded, dangling by her sides, a huff of a breath floating from her chest. His smirk laden there, as if he could push everything upon her and not face the consequences of his ridiculous stature, caused her gaze to narrow again; gilded haze of irritation and vexation. “You won’t be my only target.” Hell, if she could snag Loren and Sunjata on the same beach, along the same intervals, she could ignite two morons with one fireball. Save the world a little injustice, a little stupidity, a little asinine venture. Her lack of humor in the situation, in the face of his, ensured she meant every intonation.

As far as training, she had been keeping up, adding to her arsenal. “Yes.” Weaver and her had exercised and instigated with blades, and she was a bit more confident in her abilities. It would likely save her aboard the ship: completely adequate with a sword, and strong, proficient, with her staff and bow. “Have you?”

to be the sun

MELITA

i try to keep it in line, maybe i'm just not the one

A snort and a raise of his brow is granted to her as he glances back at her. “Oh?” A quiet and pressing question, head tilting in true avian fashion. “Who might the other be?” Curious if he knows this other target – what might have happened between them to make this other person just as much of a focus as he was. Obviously it must have been a rather big mistake to be made.

The mention of training though has him sparking a better smile along his face – that pride continuing to blossom within his chest at that. Wondering how adept she’s become with the staff and the bow – recalling an earlier training session with his macaw form right after he’d attuned and she’d managed to snipe him out of the sky. Though the question of whether he has been, he nods and smirks to her. “I have.” With daggers and his bow – one that Deimos had made him though he kept it close as well. “I also have another attuned shift.” A tilt of his head to that. He’s gotten stronger in having varying forms granted by the gods, and with it… Well, he’s been learning.

but you know i would

SuNJATA

to be lit up from within

vein by vein

Who might the other be ensued, instigated a snort. “You’ll find out eventually,” and for now, her humor returned, sticking her tongue out in a very petulant display, arms still folded, a sneer to her laughter. She couldn’t have him going around warning the other individual – it would take the fun out of blasting her way along coasts and rivulets.

Perhaps it was just so that she’d kept up her training – her only method of strength while everyone else grew and prospered. Magic, enchantments, invocations, and then shifts, belonging to animal forms and nature; while she paraded around with her weapons, with her arsenal, attempting to keep up with the whole lot of them. Her brows lifted for half a moment, before furrowing back down to her tempered state. “Oh? What can you change into now?” She recalled him as the macaw, as the panther, but nothing else. But then again, he hadn’t bothered to keep her in the loop on much of anything lately. The notion curled against her once more, and she fought down the rampant impulse to growl, to hiss, to roar, to howl.

to be the sun

MELITA

i try to keep it in line, maybe i'm just not the one

He shrugs lightly to Melita’s non-answer, and quells a quiet huff of amusement. “Keep your secrets.” He teases her lightly, though he’s still intrigued on whether or not he knows the other target. And if so, what that might mean in the long run when it came to the honeybee child’s reaches for vengeance.

So he tells her about his shifts instead, and Melita asks what else he can shift into. He gives her a small Cheshire grin at the results of what he can become now. “A gazelle of sorts, a whale, and a bat.” He says, moving to stand before her and to start, shifting into the nyala bull form — lowering his large horned head to her in a makeshift bow.

but you know i would

SuNJATA

to be lit up from within

vein by vein

There were a few who could fall under the category of her vengeance, of her justice, of her rebuttals, but she didn’t need him racing off to warn them either. The fewer who knew, the better – honesty and veracity not the greatest when vowing for vitriol. So she shrugged, indulging the keeping of her furtive notes, a hum finally returning to her breath, her eyes scanning the sky for Hels.

They only returned to him when he offered his new shifts; and she’d missed plenty apparently – only ever recalling the bright, blue hues of the macaw. A part of her was irritated that she hadn’t seen these before either, if he’d obtained him during these intervals of not telling her anything, but she smothered them down, grating her teeth against back enamel. Instead, her gaze watched as he altered, morphed, and changed from his human form and to an animal she’d never seen before – stare immediately going to the horns. The youth snorted at the bow. “Go around stabbing people with those things?”

to be the sun

MELITA

i try to keep it in line, maybe i'm just not the one

He catches her attention relatively easily once he shifts into his horned form. And with it, the slight snort from her as he watches with steel eyes, lifting a hoof and then stamping it back down in the sand before he shakes his head to her. He wishes he did, but no. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been any drive by stabbings with these horns yet.

So he shifts back into himself before shifting his weight a small amount in the sand. “Not quite.” He offers in replacement of his horned form’s response. “You saw part of the whale shift at the Cataract.” He offers her a small smirk. “It’s better in the water.” A shrug of his shoulders as if that’s all the answer he needs. It is a whale after all.

But then he considers her a moment before continuing on. “The bat I think Safrin granted me after the shrine was completed.” He rumbles, though there’s a small amount of sorrow and sadness at that, before shifting into the black fuzzy bat form, taking to the air and flitting about her form.

but you know i would

SuNJATA

to be lit up from within

vein by vein

“That’s a shame,” she retorted, settling into the sands, sitting, a face of immature, irreverent humor postured over her semblance, chin in her hands while she studied and scrutinized. Why on earth have such massive horns then? For show (and technically, since it was Sunjata, that would likely make more sense)? “Do you get to choose what you become? Or does it just happen one day?” As someone who didn’t have any of these abilities crawling, pooling in her veins (nothing but rage, nothing but vengeance, nothing but the way she blistered and tore), the curiosity remained instigated, chiseled, eternally bound in the back of her mind.

She did perk up at the notion of the whale. “Yes, but I’m sure the actual shift is much better,” she grinned, wrinkling her nose. The girl had briefly seen whales in their glass threshold, pressing faces to veneers and surfaces, attempting to peer closer, closer, closer, to the massive animals.

The opportunity vanished though, on more forlorn particles: the dangerous, treacherous, and disastrous aspect of the latest quest: four deaths, and still rewarded for his efforts. What exactly did that mean anyway – that their lives weren’t worth it, that Safrin didn’t care, or that heralds, deities, continually moved on, the world never ceasing its turn? She said nothing; not certain what to offer, gilded gaze lifting to witness as he became a bat, as he flew around her head; the smile gone and vanished, replaced with some sort of consternation and sigh.

to be the sun

MELITA

i try to keep it in line, maybe i'm just not the one

A snort to that and a slight half nod. It was a shame, how much he’d have loved to stab someone with one of those strong horns, even partially maim. But, luck was not in his cards in most regards, and so they remained as bloodless as possible. The question of what he chooses to get to become, he shakes his head. “It’s a feeling inside… Like a string I can reach for. Sometimes I’ll find a new one and it just turns me into it.” A twist of his lips with the similar kind of confusion.

Still, he nods in response to the comment of the whale. He doesn’t have time to respond as he shifts to the bat and flutters about Melita, wings flapping in fast, short strokes to keep him airborne as the wind blows through his fur. Only then, does he land and shift back into himself behind her, toward the sea, toward the glittering crashing waves. “I can show you the whale if you want?” He offers, giving her a Cheshire grin, wondering what kind of seamonster she’ll pretend to be to slay the beast today – provided she wants to.

but you know i would

SuNJATA

to be lit up from within

vein by vein

A feeling inside; maybe just the same as her emotions, her mercurial, capricious range of sentiments and ruminations. Rage. Melancholy. Sadness. Pettiness. A temper fueled and instigated by anything and everything nowadays, tempestuous to a fault, a wild, wicked storm constantly doomed to unravel at every turn. Only these strands and threads were animals, and Melita wondered what it must be like, to embody something, completely utterly different, to walk the earth as a panther, on padded feet, armed with claws, never having to be afraid, owning the world in its irreverent dominion. Or to become a bat, to fly along winds, to saunter into the evening, to become eclipsed in the midnight abyss.

Or if she could become that simply by remaining exactly who she was: a greedy, avaricious, little monster, sharpening her daggers on stones and rubble.

Her eyes watched the bat flutter around her head, quite tempted to reach out and poke it with her fingers, but keeping them closed, clenched, tightened, until he landed, gesturing towards the sea. The whale, offered again, was the only invitation she needed for her smile to spring back forth. “Yes, please!”

to be the sun

MELITA

promise me you won't die

having never skinny-dipped

Her smile is a balm to his pained soul, and her agreeance even more of an additional sweetness, that he doesn’t have to ask again or ensure she wants to see it. He simply turns from her then, heading toward the sandy beach that reaches the tide, the water and waves as they crash over it. And he slips off his shirt, diving straight into the cold water as goosebumps spread along his skin, slipping in deeper until it reaches midway on him and he begins to swim – hoping that she’s following at least enough to witness the shift.

And when he finally gets deep enough to not beach himself, he pulls that string for the water form of his own, skin melding to black and white – flesh to blubbery and expelling the cold that reaches his bones. And with it, he pops his head up out of the water to peek at her with similar steel eyes from his slick black and white body, riddled with a few white scars along his back and fin from the shark bite attack.

in the moonlight

SuNJATA

to be lit up from within

vein by vein

She waited with an assortment of anticipation, gilded eyes catching and watching the shifting of waves and forms, never being capable of truly embodying the sea like that. But on her whims, on her impulses, conceits, and impetuous designs, she followed – slinking across the water, the anklet poised against her skin enough to keep her rendered and afloat, skimming upon currents, laughing all the while. His whale form was not a familiar one to her: she would have recognized obsidian and ivory, but it was a similar form all the same, and with an air of mischief, her impish grin back on full display, she reached his side. Her eyes went to the scars along his back, the indentations of sharper jaws, snorting, giggling. “Very impressive.” More of the inclinations swept past her, and she’d forgotten about Hels, or poor Fangorn settled upon the beach, a few grumbling hisses extended to her, hand inching, itching to grab hold of his dorsal fin. “Can I?” She wasn’t certain if he’d even be able to communicate back to her, but the temptation to go sliding across the water, with power in her grasp, with merriment poised instead of every other irritating notion, rendered her devilish and irreverent. Back to the old ways, instead of shelled and prosed in her sullen disposition.

to be the sun

MELITA

promise me you won't die

having never skinny-dipped

He forgets that she can walk on water, and when he shifts to his whale form, darting his head out of the water to spy on her and how close she gets, she’s right there. And when she focuses on him and he remains in place enough, her question and body language seems to scream to him that she wants to join him, and so he lifts a small amount out of the water to bump his head against her hand, slipping back into the water and offering his back to her – the large dorsal fin poking out of the water, an open invitation as he tilts somewhat toward her, a playful puff from the hole along his spine to grant a bit of air. Once she latches on, he’ll begin to start slower to push them through the waves, picking up a bit of speed once she gets the hang of it.

in the moonlight

SuNJATA

to be lit up from within

vein by vein

The permission granted via a bump of his head upon her hand, and she was ignited, enervated, an effervescent, wild, entangled thing, made of brambles, thorns, light, air, and fire, the water beneath her feet curling and coiling along skin. The offering there, prominent fin extended over the surface, a jutting, black oeuvre, and on a savage inclination, a nefarious giggle, her palms grasped hold. A gasp followed as he started slow, as the current continued to tickle her toes, as the wind ruffled her hair, as the sea called to her just as wanton as the sand, as the sun, as the sky, and Melita threw back her head, calling, roaring, whooping, freedom sizzling in her skin, in her flesh, in her bones. “Faster!” She cried and howled, a feral banshee, a wicked siren, a Naiad, across undulations of power and prestige, skimming in beckoned calamity and exhilaration, destined to be daring and bold, the silliness, the madness, pouring through her forged grip.

to be the sun

MELITA

promise me you won't die

having never skinny-dipped

It’s almost like offering her the option of enjoying this form with him ignites something within him. It doesn’t absolve him of the crimes of forgetting about her, but perhaps it will give him another little memory with her – the last Korofi blood he knows personally, at the very least. So when she grabs onto the dorsal fin and positions herself and he begins to take off, he starts off slow and picks up speed warily – trying not to lose her.

But when he realizes she isn’t exactly sitting on him like he had somewhat expected – instead, using the fin to pull her along while he guides her, almost like skiing of a sort, he hears her feral screams of excitement. And so he gives into her suggestion, tail pumping against the water to pick up speed, rising and falling against the waves that lift and lower, seeing how far they can go.

in the moonlight

SuNJATA