(SE) let's bury all these fears

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia, having been to King's End once already, has taken to a quick pace. She is sure-footed as she leads the way through, even if her confidence is a bit forced. Having been here once is not enough to know every mystery beneath the soil, every twist and turn of the path less traveled by.

She's led them away from the Boondocks, to face more of the unknown, her back to the wind and sun and earthen monuments. Her gaze scans the ground, looking for signs of danger or evidence of nature's warnings. For most of the trek, she is quiet, introspective. Her mind wanders with the breeze, thinking of Safrin, wondering if perhaps there are shrines to pray to the goddess here.

It's only when they crest one of the End's many rolling, vast hills that her footfalls falter. She halts, straightening against the landscape that sprawls out before them in an array of colorful blooms. Her brows raise in surprise at the discovery and then slowly furrow with confusion. A large, well-tended garden - as it would appear - rests between stone benches and scattered altars.

Turning to look at Melita, Aurelia scans her face for her reaction. "I've been here before but... I never saw this," she remarks thoughtfully, letting her gaze draw back to it.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

you must burn brighter than ever

Off the ship and onto land – a successful voyage – encouraged Melita to anoint the world with springs in her step that she’d forgotten existed. Over the bounty of what she left behind, the girl’s bare feet traipsed along the King’s End, over fertile, beautiful, awe-inspiring grounds, enough to settle something deep inside her and allow it to bloom amongst the wildflowers. She couldn’t reason why Jack would want to sail here – because this world was beautiful, and he was a dickwad – but she was grateful for the moment, in between the stone benches and the petal soft fronds, decadent and sweet and wonderful, to simply have these instances. To have this grace. To have this beauty.

And she bound and leapt after Aurelia with fervor and relish, an energetic savoring of what the world had to offer, stopping only briefly to gather some flowers in her hands, the stems already blazing a notion in the back of her mind. Even if Aurelia was quiet and subdued, the honeybee was not, scattering a few birds here and there as she hastened and rushed forward. “This is AMAZING!” Vibrant and wild, Fangorn struggled to keep up with his companion, and her limber legs coiled and bunched amongst the colorful array, several different hues already flocking to her arms.

Only when Aurelia ceased did she, pulling up alongside her fellow smuggler, staring out over the garden. “My family would’ve loved it here.” Not Sunjata (who she figured would be too busy making some stupid decision to appreciate the view), but her mother, her sister.

Melita

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia is far more restrained in comparison to the wild, flying, humming Honeybee. She tries to ignore the frolicking cacophony behind her as she works to ensure that this place is even safe to be setting so free. It's not long enough yet for her to forget what happened in the depths of the Oerwoud, being teleported somewhere completely different and ending up in Halo. She doesn't look back at Melita as she walks, not wanting to let her demeanor crack just yet.

But as she stops and looks out across the field of blushed and bright flowers, she cannot help her stoked amusement.

"Mine, too," she breathes wistfully. It reminds her, too, of her family. Not the flowers, but Melita's awe and excitement in regard to it. Her sisters might've liked it here as well, might've experienced it with the same sense of jubilance - if only they could.

She arches a brow at all of the birthed blossoms bundled in Melita's arms. A smile pierces through her expression. She decides to allow herself the moment, too. "Well?" She nudges the other girl onward, smile growing, "C'mon, don't let me stop you!" Suddenly she's taking off, running down into the field, leaping through the tallest grasses and all their wildest flowers.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

you must burn brighter than ever

The honeybee didn’t have time for solemn perplexities, the ghosts that might haunt. The flowers were rivals for her attention, and they stirred against her senses in such a yearning for a time, for a place, worlds beyond this one. But instead of fading into the abyss, into the void, into the heartache, she applied herself readily – the lilting smile never fading, never undaunted, never dimming, even in the wistful arches and laments. She didn’t have her family to share it with here – but she could do the same with Aurelia.

As the smuggler took off, so too did the youth, racing, racing, racing after fields of long grass and vibrant clover. Melita could smell and sense all the wondrous fragrances tumbling through each one of their savage, haphazard steps, alight and enlightened, and she laughed, laughed, laughing, the untamed minuets and stanzas slipping from throats and hearts. Nothing and no one would stop her.

Bless Fangorn, who’d simply chosen a stone bench while they cackled and coerced.

Restless, with her crimson locks flowing like a lion’s mane behind her, her long limbs caught up to Aurelia, and she probably lost several bundles of petals and stems along the way. “You said you were here before?” Curiosity, as she buoyed and launched, would never die either. “What else did you see?” What more remained of this earth, beautiful and incandescent?

Melita

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia loses herself to the grasp of small vines and tendrils, that hook to her every wayward step. She rips through them in a spirit that rivals Melita's, not to be stopped or halted, not even by herself this time. The laughter behind her has her peering over her shoulder, and a brightness alights her own voice, giddy and carefree for once.

Her fingers grasp at stems that reach out for her in the same manner, windswept and weightless, and she plucks their flowers. She calculates, though her steps hardly slow. As Melita passes by her, a dusting of grassy petals will be tossed over her wake, to cling to her rosy curls of hair and dandelion laughs.

Aurelia finally reaches the center of the field and brings herself to a stop, watching with a smile Melita's graceful leaps and bounds. "Hah! Wouldn't you like to know?"

Unceremoniously, she flops into the grasses to catch her breath. "A swamp!" She announces, sitting up to watch for Melita, "and a hundred-year-old witch! She told me my fortune," she says this as if she is telling a tall tale, as if it is a made up story, wound up, even though it definitely isn't. "You'll never guess what she said."

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

you must burn brighter than ever

They could dance and laugh and cajole through the petals, through the world that should’ve been for mourning – but not now, not when there so many other things to be had and held. Ebullience and exuberance, wild, chaotic fringes, a balance of warmth and effervescence that she hadn’t felt in such a long time. In between Sunjata’s constant shitty decisions, breakdowns, blood and death, there’d been few moments where she could peel away the girl who survived, and not be an inferno all the time.

For she was still an ember, but not so readily ablaze.

Another round of giggles emerged and buoyed, contorting the surroundings on her wiles and wills, capricious and mercurial, whimsical and amused, as the stems and fronds curled into her locks, cascading and rippling through. They were both fey in these instances, sprites and fiends and without trial, without tribulation –

She circled and spun until she fell into the earth beside Aurelia, dress draped across curled limbs, her arms still full of her laden wares. Melita gasped with some insatiable delight at the joke, and only leaned downwards to extract and pluck at the stems she’d gathered, beginning to intertwine and nestle them together – old habits from years before. “You know, I absolutely would!” A contagious grin, lopsided smile, and then her eyes widened over the thoughts of swamps and witches and fortunes. “What?!” Her mouth rounded, the exclamation nearing stretches of excitement. What an amazing notion – and she was slightly envious. “I probably won’t. So you’ll just have to tell me everything.”

Melita

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia's gaze follows the excited dignity of Melita's flower-dance. Her own chest heaves with fuller breaths, smelling and even tasting the floral wilds around them as they give in to the call of the wind. She laughs as Melita falls into place beside her with a gasp.

A contagious grin indeed, Aurelia finds herself mirroring it as she relaxes, leaning back on the palms of her hands as they dig into the roots around her. "Yep!" She nods once in smug confirmation at Melita's surprise, and is fully expecting a demand of tell me more.

Her gaze drifts over the tops of roses and primroses, each of them an astoundingly unique shade from the last. This is a land that's truly been blessed, either by the gods or by mother nature herself. As the two settle in, Aurelia is able to take notice of the various dragonflies or bees that hover overhead. Suppose they are curious to see what all the ruckus is about.

Perhaps inspired by her memories of Mildew's connection to the world around her, Aurelia extends out a gentle hand towards an actual honeybee that lands nearby. She lets it fumble onto her finger before she lifts it up to her eye-level. Smiling, she tilts her head at it as it seems to rest there.

"Well, for starters, her name is Mildew," she begins, "and all the bugs and small critters around her seemed to be drawn to her. Like.. by some invisible force. As if she was connected to them," she glances back over at Melita, spying the busied motions of skilled fingers and vaguely wondering what she's doing. "Anyway, she.. took me back to her house. Well, it was more like a hut, but it was a pretty nice hut if you ask me," Aurelia shrugs a little at that, "and then she told me my fortune."

"She said that I would face unimaginable horrors!" She says the words with such emphasis that she can almost taste each syllable, lifting her head as she does and putting on a hardened frown for emphasis. "And I'd have to put my mind to being stronger in order to come out of it. Pretty cryptic, huh? I don't know... I don't really see anything like that right now, although.. there was the starwhale after that. That was pretty horrible," her voice and expression soften then, as she looks down towards what Melita is making. If anything, since the telling of her fortune, she's experienced far more great, amazing things than.. terrible horrors. "Anyway, she um.. she said I could be a hero, maybe. Not really sure what that means but, hey, 's gotta be good, right?" She winks at Melita and grins again.

After a poignant pause, she adds on a final note, "She also told me I should do Safrin's work. The card I pulled, I guess it was hers." She arches her brows towards Melita then, wondering what her friend, a follower of Ludo, might think of that.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

you must burn brighter than ever

Aurelia could be smug all she wanted; Melita probably would be in her place. And while the bees called, a chorus of buzzing, and the dragonflies drifted in their serene, blistering dance, the youth whittled, fingers working through accustomed maneuvers – occasionally grasping hold of a gilded, yellow flower, placing the petals within, wrapping and chording amongst themselves. Eventually she had a carefully woven blend, full of lavender and rosy hues, embossed and embedded by the fringes and flanks of gold.

Her head tilted though, listening ears and watchful eyes, rendered speechless by notions of the woman named Mildew. The world drawn into her. Connections with life, with animals, with creation, something awe-inspiring, something compelling, “Cool,” she uttered, obviously meaning in with the quiet way her jaw dropped, hanging onto every word.

And then the fortune itself caused her to laugh – a piece of the portion she was working upon snapping off at the movement and force of her chuckle. “Unimaginable horrors!” The honeybee emphasized with a shake of her hands off into the air; the meager crown following in her wake. As if no one else had ever faced them before. “Isn’t that just customary for Caido?” The longer one was here, the more shit they were likely to get into. Hopefully that statement alone staved off the way the starwhale mission had gone. “Of course you could be a hero,” she supplied in return, in earnest, crisp veracity. “I could’ve told you that. No need for seeking out witches.” A Cheshire grin followed, and then her eyes ducked down again, hands plucking at the stem she’d broken.

“And what does that mean,” she wondered out loud, given Sunjata’s pending circumstances, “doing Safrin’s work?”

Melita

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia smiles knowingly at the inspired awe and interest Melita takes to her woven story, though it's all very true. It does seem a bit out-of-this-world to Aurelia, even though she's the one that experienced it. In truth, she had expected to find new things out here, but nothing quite like that. She arches her brows in surprise at Melita's mockery of the unimaginable horrors, though she understands it completely and offers a small huff of a laugh in return.

What is it really supposed to mean? Horrors beyond her imagination? They'd have to be pretty fucking horrible, if she's honest, since she has seen a lot in her young life already. Still, something about Mildew felt trustworthy, felt wise... she trusts it, even if the meaning is perhaps a little less literal than she's taken it.

"I think she meant to warn me about it," she comments thoughtfully, shrugging again because, really, she doesn't know for certain. Anyway, Melita is telling her something rather meaningful, that warms her heart and lights her spirit, that brings a coy grin to her expression. "Yeah, maybe..." she tilts her head, looking back down toward what Melita is working on. It seems to be coming together rather well, aside from a small mishap, but she puzzles at what it could be for.

Before she can ask, Melita is asking her something. She takes in a deep breath and purses her lips in a long thought before she answers to the best of her ability. "I'll find out, I imagine, since I've already done something for her. Well, it's more for an item than for her. I asked her for something to protect others with. It's not as if I'm truly doing her work, don't think she trusts me that much as it stands. I'd like to, I think, but I'm not really sure what it would mean, honestly..." she trails off, hesitant of course because who wouldn't be? "But even after just speaking to her once, she's given me a lot of..." she sighs, "hope? Clarity? It's hard to explain, but it's nice... to be given a chance, to have a direction. Something to strive for."

"I didn't used to be a good person..." She admits slowly, knowing she hasn't told Melita anything much of who she once was in the past.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

you must burn brighter than ever

Perhaps this Mildew had fantastic powers, or maybe she didn’t – either way, Melita smiled, coiling the blends of hues back into one another, perfecting an art she hadn’t traced over since the last Fiat Lux. She missed it, in a way, the gentle sprigs, the lulling motions, the familiar presence of distinct fun, rather than constant, agonizing drama. “Stay here long enough, and you’re always going to see some shit.” She shrugged the notions away, for the youth had absolutely no intention of ruining these moments of peace, serenity, tranquility, and amusements.

Tethering the last pieces off, she placed the finished crown down, and immediately began another. The honeybee tilted her head again, tongue sticking out over her lips as she concentrated on her efforts, eyes narrowing just a little as one stem refused to bend to her will. Her gaze only lifted, only shifted, back to Aurelia as the notions of her quest with Safrin came to light, humming a little under her breath. “Safrin can be quite lovely. And I hope things work out for you.” Directions – striving for something, all a wonderful encompassing of growth and alterations. “I think heralds like her know exactly where to pinpoint. She can see inside your soul.” More implicit, more emboldened. Unafraid to embody what needed to be said.

She could understand how her uncle had been caught in the web – and perhaps that was her only misgiving, coiled back within her chest.

“Are you a good person now?” Her gaze flickered, little gilded embers, back to Aurelia, a shrug inclining through her shoulders. “Maybe that’s all that matters.” Then her attention deviated, returning to the art of her craft. “We’ve all done things to survive.”

Melita

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

She can see the way that Melita's taken with her task, of pressing the petals, leaves, and stems together into some sacred form of art. She can kind of see what she's doing now, can see the circular shapes that have been formed out of the flowers. She breathes a heavy sigh at Melita's shrug, nodding once in confirmation. See some shit, she has. But she keeps to her recount of the story of Mildew and, now, Safrin.

The bee in Aurelia's hand spreads its transparent wings and takes off, drawing her green gaze upwards to watch as it departs. That gaze lowers eventually, spotting the circlet that Melita has finished crafting. It looks like it has been fitted for a head, and suddenly Aurelia reaches for it. It finds its way to the top of her head and she smiles, nonchalant. "Thank you," she remarks, sure that she'll need the sentiment in her future dealings with the herald of life. "Yeah, she does... that seems to be part of the problem," Aurelia admits, "since I'm Abandoned. Tainted, she said." Her smile fades into a half-grimace, wondering if she can possibly win favor because of who and what she is. It wouldn't stop her from trying, of course, but it comes with its own discouragements.

The question Melita asks is daring, bold, and confronts her. Aurelia straightens a little, adjusting the crown on her head so that it doesn't fall. She doesn't answer right away, or at all, as she listens. Only time will tell if she's become a good person. Instead of addressing this point, she derails the conversation.

"You know... something else happened to me, when I traveled into the Wilds," her gaze flickers up towards Melita's face, "I was... exploring, and... suddenly I was somewhere else. Somewhere I'd never been. It was like... being at the heart of a fire. I think Wessex called it the Climb."

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

you must burn brighter than ever

Stem over stem, frond over frond, petals rising to the forefront – blends of rose and blue, cerulean and violet, pressed together in a collection of wispy sprigs that would seem like the culmination of spring if they weren’t so readily adorned in the honeybee’s hands. Perhaps sparks of vibrant red, a brilliant crimson, would’ve been more apt or appropriate, but she collected them in the segment of cool colors just the same, eventually completing the circlet, rounding out the edges in her palms. Even if her eyes were down, her mind still formulated thoughts on Aurelia’s conversation, watching quietly when the other crown made its disappearance. “And they only use that word because that’s what the Voice was before.” Before, before, before, lifetimes of history and hate, experiences churning over here once more. The past repeating, revolving, and here they were, contemplating running straight into it again.

She paused in snapping away excess twig and stem, lifting her features back up to the older woman once more. “You’re not tainted to me. And I don’t think you should believe it if anyone else calls you that.” Pointed and fixed, emboldened and complex, before sighing. “You had no control over how you were born anyway. They hold judgments over people who had no choice.” Melita – as an Accepted, had two options – and had taken neither. Content with the way she was.

But then she noted the way Aurelia avoided her other inquiry, took it as a hint, and merely placed the finished crown upon her head, so it blended in with the wild locks, so that it took her back to better, more peaceful times; interludes of another world entirely. Not without war, and not without repose, but they always seemed so different. Maybe they weren’t at all.

The subject change had her fingers picking up the petals and flowers dropped, tossing them overhead, showering them in cascading hues. “Oh. I’ve been to the Climb before. When everyone was sick. I dragged Milo there.” She grinned, very Cheshire, at the thought of the runner outside of Torchline. “We were trying to find something to help with the cure – walked into a very weird…cathedral like place. All black.” Her brows furrowed slightly, sentiments derailing elsewhere. “And you don’t know how it happened?”

Melita

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia fidgets with the crown now resting on her head, adjusting it this way and that until she finds a perfect placement. Despite the heaviness of the ins and outs of their conversation, she feels far less of a need to dwell over it. She's done enough of that already. "I've had enough of the past," she remarks, not feeling much one way or the other about the Voice anymore, "there's a reason it's no longer the present."

She's surprised by the genuine words that are sparked from Melita, raising her brows as she returns the look. For a moment she can only be startled, watching as the red-haired woman sighs before returning to her flower crown. She smiles softly at the way it looks on Melita, the way her curls bunch and press around the varied petals.

"That's true... I never had a say in much of anything..." she trails off. It's something she's always fought so hard against, the toils and whims of fate dashing every hope or dream she ever had... And again, it happened, brought her here. Somehow, she still finds it in herself to pick up the pieces, and she lifts up her chin at this. "Even if I am tainted, I don't mind it. Adds character, you know?" She reaches out to nudge Melita with her elbow, grinning and chuckling. No, even if life wanted to bring everything crashing down, Aurelia would still hope and dream if for no other reason than to spite it all.

"You have?" She's both surprised and not, though, what with how well she knows Melita by now. She considers this and shrugs, "There's probably nowhere you wouldn't go, huh?" At the sound of having to drag Milo there, Aurelia smirks. "You mean he didn't want to go into the great unknown, where everything's on fire and it's hotter than hell!?" She couldn't imagine why he wouldn't want to! She laughs a little, but sobers when Melita asks for clarification.

"Well, no, I don't know how it happened. I found an underground forest, beneath the Oerwoud, which was spectacular until a tiger attacked me," she shifts and pulls down the collar of her shirt to reveal the scabs where she'd been clawed. They've almost healed over completely. Relaxing again, she goes on, "Wessex... She helped me out, used my own magic to.. blow it up, essentially. Wasn't even five minutes later that we were suddenly.. in some sort of pit. Lava everywhere. Luckily she... teleported us out, and that's what she thinks it was. Some kind of teleportation magic in the Wilds."

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

you must burn brighter than ever

Melita hummed under a breath, a steady, stalwart little tune, no vocals, no lyrics, to ruin the tiny march through her throat; a warble, a ditty, a strain Clementine and her always tried to match with their mother while they followed along her winding footsteps, garden after garden, herb after herb. Aurelia’s statement made her cease for a moment so she could pause to laugh. “The past has a purpose. Some wiser people use it to change, rather than fall into the same habits.” Obviously, that hadn’t been any of them lately. She shrugged her shoulders, but knew what the other woman meant. They’d been mired in their survival traits for far too long. Melita had branched out, driven to new heights, expressed herself freely. And there’d always be more.

A chaotic, wild sort of giggle burst from her thereafter, and the song in between her ribs and heart was quite forgotten for the sanctity of tainted ramparts. “Innocence is so boring anyway,” she added with a dismissing handwave; knowing full well she’d lost nearly every aspect of irreproachability long, long ago.

The surprise coated in the other’s voice made her laugh all the more, shaking her head, the petals of her crown drifting to and fro, but staying intact. “I try not to let anything stop me.” The youth raised her head, jaw lifted to the sun. Bold and bolder still, even if fortune didn’t find her – determined, hard-headed, stubborn, and tenacious, a tempest born in a lithe form. An arch of a brow curled and then she giggled all the more, so that it resounded and reverberated at the insinuation of poor Milo. “You know, he didn’t!” A mock surprise, smiling still. But he’d humored her anyway, even if they hadn’t discovered anything of worth.

But she paid close attention, expression altering into intrigue, as Aurelia described her misadventure. Wessex, teleportations, and molten tigers (oh my!) framing the story was a curious notion, and her head tilted at the semblances of it. “That sounds like one of the Voice’s things.” She drew her knees up towards her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, brows furrowing in deep concentration. “I’ve only been along the Oerwoud. I think Locke and I found a poisonous bird!” Another Cheshire grin to follow – as if this was all very impressive.

Melita