[se] tangled in the red

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

“Getting real sick of your shit, gang,” she hissed from her own modestly created training sanction. Usually, it overlooked the cliffs, the drops into the sea, and the churning waves with little fanfare, save for the wind, the breeze, the salt carried on all of it.

Today though, her targets were covered with gods damned spider silk, and no matter how often Sila set them aflame (as she did now – wings unfurled above, cooking some within the air and then snatching them, a sickening crunch in her mouth), or Fangorn grabbed hold and chomped (she should’ve been grossed out, but at this point, she didn’t really care), the threads still managed to get on everything.

Using her staff to maneuver several longer pieces off her latest, pathetic stone effigy (no real resemblance other than a pile of debris used to occasionally catch an arrow), she huffed and puffed, wrinkling her nose and setting the next portion aside. “Maybe we could use it for something,” she muttered to her companions, though that too was laced with uncertainty.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

Koa tells himself it is his dutiful exploration of Torchline that leads him to the lighthouse, and not the fact that he is utterly, mind-numbingly bored. The prospect of a vacation had at first been enticing because new places, new things to do; then, it had seemed like a great way to avoid seeing Sohalia and facing his heartbreak.

But now? Now the boy is beginning to itch and ache for his routines, the consistency of a training ground and the regiment of a schedule. Never having had so much free time on his hands, he has no real idea of what to do with it - there is only so long one can spend at the beach.

So when someone had told him a local legend had set up a training ground near the lighthouse of Aumakua, he'd of course decided to check it out for himself. He hadn't expected it to be quite so... modest.

Or filled with spiders.

Silk stretches like netting from stone to stone, leaving a the impression of a jungle-gym built for miniature ghosts. At the heart of the mess a redhead girl with two unlikely companions seem to have begun a fruitless war against the cloud spiders, their displays of violence rather admirable. Koa watches a moment as a dragon rains fire down on web, letting the heat wash away before stepping into proper earshot. "Need a hand?" he calls, ever helpful, eyebrows raised over mirrored sunglasses, his hands thrust casually in the pockets of his jeans.

koa

code by sky

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Fangorn rumbled something in between avid snacks of arachnids, causing Melita to look up from where she’d crouched before a normal target. Standing upright once more, she spotted the stranger walking up, and she shielded her eyes from the sun, having no recognition of this individual whatsoever. Perhaps he intended to meander around her area and head towards the lighthouse, as many often did. Or enjoy the cliffs.

But noooope, he came straight for them. Sila ceased her fire entirely, immediately landing upon the Honeybee’s shoulder with claws and apprehension, while the gourd flailed his vines in some makeshift hello. Suspicious, because not many sought her out up here, unless they were family or friends or something, her gaze remained studiously narrowed. “If you want,” ready, willing, and able to draw weapons upon him immediately if he tried anything.

She took another step towards one her rock towers, and peeled away more of the thread. “Who are you?”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

She doesn't seem particularly warm and welcoming, but Koa has had cooler greetings. Nevertheless, it means he's careful - not wanting to aggravate either her or her dragon, let alone the little pumpkin-looking monstrosity chomping on spiders nearby. "I wasn't doing much," he says with a shrug and a smile, stepping toward the nearest of the silk-soaked stone effigies. "It'd be nice to be useful. I'm Koa," is added in response to her query, punctuated by a bright smile and a playful salute. "Dragoon, First Class. Who do I have the pleasure of helping today?"

His fingers brush over the startlingly strong strands like a guitarist might, though no music comes forth when he plucks the strings. "Seems like they oughta be useful for something," the Dragoon muses, unaware that he's echoing Melita's earlier sentiment.

Taking a fistful, he yanks it up, resulting in a tangled mess of sticky, goopy threads. It's rather gruesome, and Koa doesn't hesitate to pull a face, wrinkling his nose at the wispy substance. "Is it always like this in Leafchange?" he wonders, casting an amused look at Mel, "Or is Torchline just happy to see me?"

koa

code by sky

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Her eyes remained narrowed, dubious, watching, and scrutinizing as he meandered forward, pondering whether she’d need her weapons or not. When he just seemed to amble around the strands she relaxed a bit more, before adhering to hers, picking and plucking away at a knotted and gnarled fixture of thread stuck to stone. Not quite in the mood for bright smiles, she gave him a light one in the corner of her mouth. “I’m Melita.” Only thereafter did his titles actually register in her mind. “Dragoons? So you’re from Stormbreak?” The land had its own connotations for the Honeybee, like hunting for relics and attacks by the Ascended.

Her ease made Sila’s increase, and the dragon sidled off her shoulder and flickered towards the grass, snatching at more spiders. “Yeah. I was thinking of some kind of building material, maybe.” Perhaps they could come in use for the Ark – they didn’t seem very breakable.

Continuing to work on the knotted portions, her brow quirked up, and then came a quick shake of her head. “I’ve never seen this before.” Not finding his joke terribly funny, she gave half a snarl, much resembling Fangorn’s usual sneer, and a roll of her eyes.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

"That's right," Koa replies with no small amount of pride, utterly convinced of the superiority inherent to his home. "Have you been?" - forgetting, once more, that most people are better traveled than him, that leaving the place of ones birth is rather a common occurrence and he seems to be the only isolated hick left in the expanse of Caido.

A length of silk stretches between his fingers, glinting in the light. It's almost a tangled cats cradle, but too sticky to truly work. "Or armor," the Dragoon muses thoughtfully, tugging at the mass of thread. "Or maybe rope? Wouldn't have to worry so much about knots if it could self-adhere." A belt with some inherent stickiness could be useful for keeping weapons in place. Or for keeping troublesome dragons strapped against his back.

The joke doesn't land - or rather it does, but clearly not the way he intended. Koa winces at the snarl, not having realized how much she's relaxed until she recoils again and feeling rather juvenile for making such a silly remark to begin with. "Sorry, dumb joke," he apologizes with appropriate chagrin, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck (and leaving spiderweb in his hair as he does so). "I haven't really been to Torchline in Leafchange before. But if I was a spider, I'd definitely want to spend the cold seasons here."

His first little target cleaned, Koa heads to the next. This one is infested with a nest of live spiderlings, all of whom scurry indignantly about as the Dragoon disrupts their home. He has to draw a knife out to cut through the strands, wrinkling his nose and shaking his arm as arachnids attempt to climb up it. "So uh, I heard this was a training grounds of sort? Do you come up here a lot?"

koa

code by sky

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

She could hear the pride in his voice, and having experienced, a decent amount of Stormbreak on her own, she couldn’t hold quite the same tone. “Yeah,” and that didn’t sound very impressed; because she’d been akin to the racism and ridiculousness of those high stone walls. “Helped get a relic there, once.” Also one of her uncles had been apart of the vicious onslaught in previous years (and died, came back, and died again), while the other had ferried multitudes there in the process. Good times. Trying to keep her mood neutral, and probably failing, she shrugged her shoulders. “How is it up in the sky all the time?”

Uncertain how thread could be constructed into armor (but considering she didn’t own any, maybe that was just a limitation of the youth’s imagination), she let the comment pass for rope. “Or cloth, maybe,” figuring all those layers could be construed into something worthwhile. She certainly didn’t have the skills for it, as demonstrated by her misshapen dress attempts last season. And the blood all over it.

“We have wine spiders,” but not this shit. “But they’re pretty harmless.” She wasn’t certain about these arachnids, other than being really fucking annoying. Or that she’d hit some with a cannon for fun.

As for the training grounds…her eyes swept over them, fingers peeling away at the top of a makeshift bullseye. “Oh. Um. I made this.” Construction also wasn’t in her finest of arts – considering the misshapen effigies, targets, rock pillars, and some sideways, askew, either from prior attempts or that they managed to stay upright that way.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

Koa's eyes widen with appropriate awe and respect at the revelation, the young man having grown up with tales of the relics, and the legends who helped retrieve them. "That must have been awesome," he exhales appreciatively, eyebrows rising into thick dark hair. "The Banner, right? And the rock giant? I remember when that happened, but I can't imagine what it was like to be there." To live through history, shape it? He can only dream of achieving such things.

As for being in the sky? He shrugs. "Windy as fuck, but you can't beat the views."

Eventually Koa has to drop the knife in favor of brushing the swarm of spiderlings off his exposed arms. It's gotten to the point where he's doing a rather uncoordinated jig, his face screwed up in alarm and consternations at the seemingly endless swarm of little silken terrors trying to nest in his body hair. His intention hadn't been to hurt the things, but now he finds he has few qualms about squishing them beneath his boots. "They're relentless," the boy bemoans as he pulls an especially chunky one one from his hair, eyeing it reproachfully before tossing it in Fangorn's direction for a snack.

That the girl constructed the training ground earns a new wave of admiration. "Oh, dude, that's so cool," he says effusively, glancing around at the effigies and targets. Sure, it doesn't hold a candle to the Dragoon center, but it's still an impressive feat. "And you come up here to practice a lot? Does anyone train with you?"

koa

code by sky

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Oh, sure, it’d been awesome. Initially – flying in with Ronin, scaling heights, watching as a cliff ultimately resumed being a living, breathing rock. And then her uncle and Darkeye had joined in the fray, and it’d become a god damned mess. Like most things when it came to Sunjata. She’d much preferred the aspects of war here, in Torchline, and fighting off the beast thundering across the beach. “In a way,” she finally stated, and leaving it at that, peeling off another section of strands and immediately squashing three spiders in the closest vicinity with the quick palm of her hand.

Fucking windy seemed to be the simplicity of Stormbreak now, and figuring it must be decent for Dragoons, let that meander off too.

Fangorn obliged immediately at the incoming snack, while Sila hunted along the ground, and Melita came to a realization eons thereafter. “So if you’re a Dragoon, where’s your dragon?” The Honeybee rarely left her companions elsewhere, unless there was true danger upcoming – more than once the vampire gourd had saved multitudes (because he was the wisest of the lot).

As for the training grounds…she jutted her thumb towards the house situated amongst the cliff rocks. “I live there, so, yeah, this is my training area.” She made frequent use of it, besides terrorizing any local flora, fauna, or citizens of Torchline. “Sometimes others come, but mostly I just train by myself.” She’d helped Sohalia in the last season, but otherwise was often left to her own devices – which was fine. The Honeybee was self-sufficient.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

If Koa had been there, he thinks, he would be constantly retelling the tale. But Melita doesn't seem keen to talk about it, and Koa has enough sense not to pry. Perhaps one day when he's a bit wiser he will better understand that not all adventures are meant to be stories, relived and revisited again and again.

Though it is no longer a requirement for Dragoons to have dragons, Mel is correct in assuming he's bound to a beast. "She's around here somewhere," he answers with a shrug, nonchalant and unperturbed about Pipsqueak's present absence. "Probably caught in a spiderweb. Or digging for grubs. Oi, Pip!" His loud cry is accompanied by a sharp whistle, and somewhere not so far away, a noodle stirs in response.

He follows his gaze to the little house, nodding appreciatively while secretly musing on the superior architecture of Stormbreak. "That's really cool, how dedicated you are," Koa says sincerely, wiping away the last of the webbing from his chosen effigy. "Truth be told, it's been a little hard for me to keep up with my normal training, being away from home. But I'm here for another few weeks - I'd be honored to get some pointers from a Relic Hunter, if you're available." He winks playfully, a guileless, friendly smile on his tanned face. Koa may be proud, but he holds no illusions as to whether or not Mel could kick his ass.

koa

code by sky

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Maybe because Fangorn frequently didn’t let her out of his sight (for good reasons) or that Sila depended on her for bravery, the Honeybee’s eyes widened at the thought of leaving her companions off to roam on their own. “Oh,” she mentioned, blinking owlishly, before pondering those circumstances further, listening for any answer off in the distance.

Finishing that effigy, she rounded over to another target, smacking away any spiders floating by, and snagged at more threads encompassing a ridiculous rock pile assortment. “It was the only way to survive for a while,” being capable. Being strong. Being proficient. Being violent and vehement and promising bloodshed to anyone who crossed her. Perhaps not much had changed. “You guys must have a pretty nice setup though,” and even if Melita hadn’t wandered into the training grounds, she couldn’t imagine anything but – in that whole stony, efficient wake.

The statement surprised her though, and she rose from her crouch, staring at him with an arched and scrupulous brow. “I guess. What sort of weapons do you use?”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

Oh. Koa isn't sure what to make of this confession: for him, survival has never been especially hard. Sure, he's lost his mother and has a rough relationship with his father and liked a girl who rejected him and other such things, but in the broader world of hardships and trials? The boy has had it decidedly easy.

But this may be the first time anyone pointed that out.

And now, suddenly, he feels a bit sheepish, newly appreciative for all she's done and accomplished, and how little he truly has to boast about. "Yeah, it's pretty great," Koa agrees almost reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. And then, brightening: "You could come check it out sometime, if you wanted? See what the Dragoons are all about? Everyone would love to have an experienced warrior come by - I know I would." Maybe she'd even consider joining, representing Torchline in their global initiative plans?

"Unarmed, mostly." He raises his hands for her to see: bruised and scarred, strong and calloused, covered with reminders of past fights. "But I've been trying to learn escrima. And all Dragoons have to be proficient with a sword and bow." Not that Koa has ever exceeded the barest line of proficiency with the former, but he can hit a target decently, at decent range. "What about- ow."

It is at this juncture that Pipsqueak opts to appear, adorned in veil of spider silk that turns her dark form bluish grey. She displays no qualms about sharing the love with her bonded, immediately attempting to claw her way up the denim of his jeans and landing more that a couple claw marks before he can scruff her, nose wrinkled at the mess she us. "Gods, Pip, you're filthy," the boy exclaims, earning some eager chatters from his dangling dragon. Shaking his head, he begins to carefully excise webbing from her fur. "This tiny terror is Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak, meet Melita and... sorry, I didn't get your companions names."

koa

code by sky

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Unaware of Koa’s struggles, hardships, or lack thereof, Melita often traversed the world with the suspicion that others had gone through all sorts of trauma. Caido had plenty to offer, and those Outlanders, like herself, often came with their own brands of baggage. But she didn’t hold it against anyone either on having a better life, so when her gaze met his sheepish one, she shrugged, unbothered.

The sales pitch baffled her though, the shock and surprise clear as day on her face. “Oh – I uh…never thought about it, honestly.” The Dragoons seemed stuffy, purpose and goal driven. Melita flew through life by embers, fire, and poor impulse control, often abandoning logic for action and violence. “Not sure how they’d feel about my abilities either.” Shoot first, ask questions later kind of deal.

Stormbreak itself was a whole notion of hesitation and apprehension anyway.

She’d never heard of his other tactics, but swords and bows were up her alley. “I’m pretty decent with the bow, staff, daggers…,” listing them off on her fingers. She might’ve continued had the aforementioned dragon not shown up, and all her attention dissipated solely to Pipsqueak, and then her own companions.

Pip seemed to be wild and untamed, and therefore, favored by the Honeybee. “Hello,” she offered with a widened grin, before snagging at Sila (who’d already begun to curl back into her arms). “This is Sila,” pointing to her own lizard. “And Fangorn,” vampire gourd extraordinaire.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

He laughs a little at her reaction, surprised that she would be so surprised. "You helped defeat a rock giant," Koa points out, shifting his weight and grinning bemusedly, an eyebrow raised in playful challenge. "Whatever your abilities, they're clearly awesome. We'd be idiots not to want you." Especially if - as he's beginning to suspect - she was one of the players in the great war.

She begins to list off the weapons she's trained in, and Koa's eyes widen in impressed appreciation - at least, until Pipsqueak interrupts. The dragonling stops her thrashing long enough to focus in on Melita and the collection of friends at her behest, letting out an excited series of chirps and trills that seem determined to communicate a story nobody can understand. Koa frowns and shakes his head, pulling yet another mass of cobwebs out of his companion's fur. "That doesn't explain why you couldn't go around the spiders," he informs her testily, clearly put out by what a wild mess she is.

Unlike Sila and Fangorn, who seem perfectly civilized by comparison. "Pleasure to meet you," the boy tells the companions, making no effort to hide his admiration. Pip, by this time, has wriggled free, and immediately slithers over to where the vampire gourd is stationed. "I uh, I can't say I've seen a walking pumpkin before," Koa comments bemusedly, watching as Pip lowers her serpentine body and splays her wings in some show of submissive but ready to play body language.

"But I've known my share of dragons, and Sila is certainly among the loveliest I've met." He winks at the little bronzen creature, extending a hand for sniffs.

koa

code by sky