[SE] Ignite a wilted rose

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Soon after the meteor strike, rumors traveled north of the harbor town being in shambles. A tidal flood had swept in mere hours after the impact, and the damage was beyond bad. As Maea had nothing else to tend to, she volunteered to join a crew of workers when they headed off to Jack Tar Landing, to clean up and repairing the docks. Rattling along in farmer's carts, she watched the landscape roll by with wary eyes, keeping a lookout for infected creatures. She understood Noah's insistence that the anomalies were of no good nature. Only seeing them for herself could have convinced her, and now the terrorized screams of spider-bitten villagers kept ringing in her ears as proof.

Luckily the journey went by without incident, and one afternoon some days later Maea lowered herself down on the remnant of a dock, sandwich in hand and feet soon dangling over the water's surface. The sun shone down from cloudless skies and drove up temperatures the melting point. She didn't mind it, but the heat made her fellow workers testy and short tempered - better avoided when it was time to eat and rest. With filthy water sloshing about, the stench of the area had quickly grown nasty too, to the point of flavoring anything she put in her mouth. But tongue-curdling or not, she kept eating. Even savored the flavor of briny sea water, tar and rot that mingled with the bread and cheese, for the simple fact that she could taste it at all.

Birds were flying over the horizon to the west. Gazing out over the open water, the young Ancient kept returning in her memory to the sight of the brilliant white light that lit up the sky when the moon fell. If things were bad here... what would Tochline be like? What about Halo, and everything else between there and here? Not for the first time, she lamented the loss of her teleportation upgrade. Of all the things the Voice had gifted her, that had been the most useful. If she'd had it still, she could have zipped over, just to check up on things. If there had been any news coming in, none had seen fit to share it with the region yet.

Maybe that meant everything was just fine.

Maea

Hadama had not slept, except for snatches of too-brief naps here and there across the days. Torchline held most of his attention, but as leader he had connections to the wider world that he was now flexing with grim determination. He had gone to Halo first, to see the damage there himself and to assist Deimos in a hunt in exchange for a chance to request the Warden's Guild's help in Torchline when they were able.

Sohalia had already come to the coast and seen the damage herself. He had not needed to ask anything of her, for the young Heart was already giving all that she and Stormbreak could to help.

He did not know what had happened to Phoebe in the Greatwood, and King's End was small enough yet that he had not made it to their shores. But today he Aquaported into the bay of the Hollowed Grounds to seek assistance. With luck, he would find Danta in reach of the sea.

The murky water was unpleasant in the extreme to be swimming in, but his mastered water magic created fresh water around him and held the filthier currents at bay as he surfaced to look around and survey the damage for himself.

Bad... but not as bad as elsewhere, he quickly determined, and swam towards the docks in search of the region's leader. Though he didn't see Danta, the horns of another Ancient caught his attention and he made his way towards them. Her pale complexion tugged hauntingly at his memory and he slowed his approach as he swam near enough to speak, watching her in silence for long moments before he finally addressed her, weary but courteous. "Good afternoon. Do you know where Danta is?"

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

When you didn't deal with merfolk on the regular, being addressed from the ocean could be jarring. And, as expected, Maea reacted with an appropriate start, casting wild eyes about before she thought to look into the sea for the speaker. Noticing the mer, she cocked her head aside, and bit her cheek to keep from letting surprise show too much on her face.

Hadama would be forgiven for not recognizing her. It had been dark that night when they met, and Maea had been a different creature altogether. The cold, closed off puppet who shunned light and connection in equal measure was flushed with life now, rosy cheeked and almost glowing in the sunlight. Ironic, given that her patron goddess was one for blood and bone and shadow. Doubly so, when it was her former mistress who'd deemed her bright enough to ascend back from death. There were scratches and cuts on her face too; silent indicators that she hadn't escaped entirely unharmed from the recent calamity.

"Good afternoon," she greeted the merman this time, not quite smiling but bright eyed and blatantly curious as she boldly looked him up and down. The parts she could see, at least. "Danta? Uhm... I assume he's at his establishment, back at the Settlement. Well, Inner Quarter - " she had trouble with these new terms, and kept reverting back to what she'd always known them as. "Do you need to reach him? I can fetch someone to carry a message if you'd like. Or, take it myself, for that matter." She was by far the least experienced builder in the team, and doubted the others would miss her if she left.

Maea

Hadama had long since grown used to curious observation by landfolk, and he met her roving gaze with steadfast solemnity, giving her time to recover from her surprise. He had changed little since their last meeting, unless one looked at the exhaustion that dulled emerald eyes and the slight curve of shoulders that had once been square and straight, but now bowed a little under weariness.

He still could not place the vague sense of familiarity; she was too different from what she had been, and their meeting had been so very long ago, and he had too many other worries on his mind. When she spoke he listened, and then he tilted his head in consideration. "Hmm." It would take time for a runner to get there. And no guarantee that Danta would even be available.

"...No," he decided at last. "No runner. But if there is paper, would you deliver a letter?" He paused, looking around at the docks for the first time, a faint furrow creasing his brow as he took in the damage. "...How bad were things here?"

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

"Sure, I can do that." Maea didn't recognize the merman either. If there was a niggle at the back of her mind of having forgotten something, it was overshadowed by her own troubles and tribulations. Not to mention current events.

She did pick up on the weariness of the visitor however, and after a quick glance between him and the half-eaten sandwich in her hands the Ancient offered it to the mer.
"You look like you could use a break," she noted. "Dunno if it's to your liking, but..." Whether he accepted it or not, she began rummaging through her pockets in search of paper.

"It's not too bad, honestly. This place and the Brambles got the worst of it. We had some meteor strikes, bit of fire but the worst is probably these weird critters scampering about." Withdrawing a handful of nails, a broken seashell, stumps of rope and a strange black compass, Maea eventually rustled up a piece of crumpled paper and a pen. There was a list of materials to one side, but the other was blank; turning it over against her thigh, she looked up expectantly at the mer.

"What's the message?"

Maea

He inclined his head in weary gratitude for the Ancient's offer to deliver a letter. It would be faster than 'porting back to Torchline, penning it, and then finding a raven to send it all the back across the world. And time was suddenly and very starkly of the essence there, where an unwanted moon sat brooding in their waters, bleeding violet scars across their sky, and twisting flowers and animals alike.

The offer of a half-eaten sandwich was so unexpected that the mermanta blinked in bemusement for several long seconds before he reached for it. "Thank you," he rumbled, as gracious as if she had handed him a fancy truffle. He considered the contents for only a moment before beginning to eat while she answered his question, the sandwich disappearing in three large bites.

"Mmmh. The west was not as fortunate," he said solemnly when he finished, while she searched her pockets. "The second moon... fell. It landed in the Arclight, making a new island. Its waves destroyed Torchline's ports. Everything along the coast... gone." There was a tightness at the corners of his eyes, a stoic facade being pushed to its limit. "Many died. We are still counting."

His distant, numb gaze refocused on the Grounder in front of him and he drew a breath, shaking off the visions of memory. "Mm. To Danta, Theocrat. If there is aid the Grounds can spare Torchline is in need. Our skyport was destroyed. If you can send ships with supplies, we would be grateful. Tell them to avoid the new island. From Hadama, King."

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Scarred hands froze mid motion when mer dropped the news of Torchline's fate. All memories she had ever made in that tropical paradise came flooding in to the rush of her pulse going gone, gone, gone, too intensely for even her to pretend like she didn't care. Bitter as some of the recollections were, the land had never been at fault for her pain. She'd wanted to live there, had died there, had haunted its streets and done things to the people that would send this noble mer into a rage if he ever found out. And rightly so.

Her hands shook when he began to dictate the letter. Delivered so concisely, the true devastation was brought home in the plea for aid, in the terse lack of flowery promises of recompensation. That she was speaking to the mer king himself was only a trifling point of trivia after that.

"I'm so sorry," the young Ancient said quietly when she finished writing. Folding the letter, she sealed it with a piece of string and put it away - in a better pocket this time, just over her heart. "I'll make sure Danta receives this as soon as possible. I don't know how fast we can get to you, but I'm sure help will come." At the very least, she would come. To give back for all that the land had offered her in the past.

Swiping at her cheeks, she blinked back unexpected tears and stared at the moisture on her hand. Startled to be so affected, surprised that she could still cry when she'd been numb for so many years.
"Uhm.. can I get you anything now? Food, provisions..?" Looking at Hadama was difficult, the barely suppressed emotion so bravely hidden affected her more than she wanted to admit.

"Are you okay?" A quiet offer, if he wanted to talk about it. Since she was just a stranger, just a messenger, there would be no need to keep up a front. Who was she to judge a kind for weeping over his people?

Maea

Lost in his own memories of what he had seen and what he would return to once his errand in the Grounds was finished, he did not immediately notice how her hands shook. Not until she spoke, voice barely above a whisper, did he focus on her face - truly focus. "Thank you," he said simply, both to her sympathy and to her promise.

And to her optimism. He was not sure he had energy to spare for optimism, or the certainty that help would be forthcoming from the Hollowed Grounds, but he had made his plea. It was out of his hands now.

That she cried for his people, though... he bowed his head deeply at that, accepting the depth of her emotions when his own were so exhausted that it was hard to feel anything beyond numb. There would be time later, to grieve. To mourn. To be a man and not a King.

But that was a long ways down the coast, yet. And many a mile still to swim before he reached it.

"No," he said to her kind offer for provisions, with a small shake of his head. And then he paused, drew a deeper breath, and said again in simple candor to her next question: "No." He raised his head to meet her eyes without flinching. "But right now, no Torcher is."

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Sniffling surreptitiously when her nose threatened to run, the deep breath she took to steady herself quivered ever so slightly. That look in his eyes was so raw and worn, it made her feel silly to give in to emotion. Tears didn't fix anything, and even if all the people of the Hollowed Grounds pitched in, it would still take days and weeks before their ships could reach Torchline. Especially since their own harbor needed repairs.

But that was too bleak, too practical to think about. "Has there been any news of Safrin? I heard she was gone, but there's been no new updates for us... Is she helping you rebuild?" Hoping that the notice board held accurate information, Maea wished there was something more she could do for Hadama. Praying... it felt like the bare minimum.

Maybe her race was born to dance through the ashes of destruction - maybe that was why she hadn't seen anything of the Theocrat since the meteor fell - but on a very personal level, Maea really didn't like to see people hurt and grieving. It really was the root cause of her problems; she just cared too much.

Maea

Tears had their place and purpose, but it was also true that for Hadama this was not their time. It would come, and perhaps not when he might choose, but for now he still had work to do and people he hoped to save. Those who could be rescued from the wreckage had been, and every day the hope of finding survivors faded further, but for those who had lived through the disaster there was still the issue of the new plants and animals that had begun to prowl the islands, from the sandy shores to Apopo's molten slopes.

"Safrin... has returned," he said, the words slow and quietly painful in their own right. "Defeated. Weakened, Deimos says. I have not seen her." He lapsed into silence a moment, head bowing slowly beneath the weight of all he carried. When he spoke again his quiet voice was even softer, and what he had to say was not without pain. "If she is recovering, I do not wish to interrupt her healing." Prayers for her recovery, yes. Prayers for her presence, for gifts of items or power? No. Deimos's brief letter had been worrying enough. And if Safrin was not helping Torchline in its hour of greatest need, it was because she could not.

Which was frightening enough in its own right.

Just what had landed in their ocean?

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

She would have placed a hand on the king's shoulder if she could reach it, if only to assure him that he wasn't alone. An unusual impulse from her these days, as reaching out had a way of getting her hurt; it said something about the nature of the mer, and herself too, that she even considered it. Maybe Maea wanted some reassurance too; the very notion of a god being diminished to the point where they couldn't answer prayer sent cold shivers down her spine. Made her think of the Voice, and how impermeable even endless things had proven to be.

"That's... awful," she pressed out, words inadequate. "I've heard both good and bad about Safrin, but to hear something like this... I hope she recovers soon." Hesitating because it really wasn't any of her business, the eventually asked, "Is she... your patron?"

It wouldn't be strange to her if this individual turned out to be a demi-god. More suitable than some, and while she would never reach out to the starry goddess herself... Maea had nothing against her either.

Maea

Something in Hadama seemed to soften a little at the pale woman's well-wishes for Safrin. It might have done so regardless of her race, but knowing that she was an Ancient and sworn to Dygra yet was still willing to hope for another god's recovery touched him. The weary mermanta inclined his head in gratitude for her kindness, but at her question he raised it again. He was silent for a time, considering her question and the meanings it held, though he seemed unbothered about whether the question was prying or not. He had certainly heard worse from those curious about Merfolk, and he accepted such things without rancor.

"She is the patron of all Torchline," he said slowly at last. "And I am her follower."

A pause, and his tired brain finally caught on to what had been tugging at his mental flukes for the past several minutes. "Forgive me. I have not asked your name," he admitted with a quietly dignified regret for the lapse in courtesy. "You are... familiar. But I do not remember from where."

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Religion could be such a sensitive subject. Ones relationship with a god could say everything or nothing about a person, could be a defining attribute or merely convenience. It was so easy to assume, and so very difficult to undo prejudice once it colored you in a certain light. Maea knew that her appearance alone would tie her to Dygra, and she still had yet to discover what that meant in the eyes of others.

"I met with an acquaintance recently, who said he had lost his faith in the Lady," she offered as explanation for the curiosity, "so I wasn't sure if something else had happened... But if Torchline still honor her, that's good. I think." It was hard to summon any roaring enthusiasm for the Herald given the difficult relations in the past... But as Noah so gently had pointed out, that was the past. Dwelling on it was pointless.

Shifting where she sat, relieving awkward pressure from the tail, the woman offered a lopsided smile when the mer asked for her name.
"I'm Maea Valair. I'm not sure either... I did stay in Torchline a few years ago. Before the war. Maybe we crossed paths..." Furrowing her brow in quiet reflections, going back through her memory in search of any encounters with seafolk. Vague recollection of meeting someone dredged into focus, but the details escaped her.

"I did talk to someone in the water... It was night, and I think the moon was out... was that you?"

Maea

"Mm. She has helped us a great deal. I hope Torchline does not forget that," he agreed somberly. His own faith was steadfast and as certain as the tide, but others were not so devoted, he knew. They would blow wherever a favorable wind took them, whether that meant to Ludo's shrine or to Frey's. Especially with Safrin's absence and silence at her own shrines for the past seasons. Her battle for Caido had been a distant thing, unseen by mortal eyes, and had not seemed terribly important to many.

Until now.

And while her failure to defeat the threat from the stars might turn some followers away, Hadama  considered instead that she alone had tried to keep it from even arriving in the first place.

But lofty considerations of religion aside, there was still the question of courtesy, and of learning the kind woman's name. The mermanta inclined his head when he learned it, then raised it again to consider her more carefully in light of the details she provided. "Hmm... it may have been," he admitted readily. "I do not remember it well, but... Yes." Slowly he nodded as Maea's pale appearance sparked a faint ember of memory. "Have you been well?" Since their meeting. Since the War. Since...

Since years and miles and many, many choices had passed between that meeting and this one.