STALWART @calliope-warren - Tumblr Blog

lucas:

—

“Figuratively.” Luke repeats with an emphasis, crooking the end of his lips. “Don’t overthink it. I’m obviously kidding, obviously. You do understand that I’m being sarcastic, right? It’s important that you get that.” He asks, just to make sure after what happened with another woman he ran into in the Jungle. Miscommunication is turning out to be a pattern, and the constant in that pattern is him. Perhaps the problem lies with him.

Luke gives a nonchalant shrug and deadpans, “looking for an ancient magical frog.” He then reminds himself not to make more stupid jokes– knowing his luck, she could be a frog enthusiast and find his fake magical frog hunt abhorrent… But a tiny, inner child part of him does want to see an ancient magical frog if there is any. That conversation with Beaufort put a thought in his head. “Nah, I’m just explorin’, map this place out, find resources. Call it a hobby.” Snapping out of his less practical fancies, he quickly corrects his statement. “Or both. Not mutually exclusive, those two.” He points out, “but I’d rather take ballsy and stupid over trepid and smart.”

“Oh really? And here I thought you were planning on kick-starting Meridium’s economy all on your own,” Cal stated back with an equal amount of sarcasm. Yeah, she also spoke that language. She couldn’t help but scoff at his next words, clearly he had no intention of actually communicating. Evasive jokes and sarcasm were cute and all, but sometimes Cal just didn’t feel like going nowhere with conversations like this. But then her brows were knit together. There were plenty of weirdos here -hell, maybe he was one too- so she considered he might actually be telling the truth. “You’re not serious, right?”. There was plenty of bizarre shit on this island, she didn’t know why she was drawing the line on ‘ancient magical frog’...

#lucas: 01

magnolia:

❦

Magnolia snorted and shook her head. “You’re a baby islander,” she explained blithely. “Feeling worn is practically a right of passage.”

It remained jarring to hear that women held positions in previously testosterone-dominated fields. There was a woman, unapologetically feminine, with an uncontested PhD, female fire fighters, pilots, and now attorneys. Magnolia remembered when she won the simple right to vote. “Wow,” she breathed, this new fragment of reality settling. Confusion replaced her awe when Calliope mentioned Mr. Candles—or whomever. “Right. I hear films have everything from color to sound now,” she said dryly. It sounded a bit too much like magic to her, but Tamyra insisted, and the concept had been explained to her ad nauseam by over-excited, eager-to-be-knowledgable baby islanders enough that she stopped doubting its existence. Well, mostly. “It’s a good skill to have here. I believe there are some plants unique to the island, too, that would be helpful if you explored them. Before people put them in salads.”

Magnolia just smiled, plain and neutral, in the face of the compliment. She’d deemed competence in the mysterious power a necessity, yet others still found more creative ways of using it than she did. “Don’t expect top shelf vintages,” she continued with an amused smile. “However, there’s certainly alcohol. Highly passable wines and also alcohol distilled enough to both murder germs and strip marine paint off ships.” It was likely a good thing that she was the sole source of alcohol thus far. Not because she desired to hold a monopoly, but because if there was more of it then all the newcomers would be justifiably trying to drink reality away. “I live in the east,” she said, turned to look towards the beach in question, the vantage point from the Jag giving a proper view of the coastline, and pointed to a barely visible clearing, her house roof breaching the foliage. “There. You’re welcome to visit and sample. Most people know where I live, you can ask for directions.”

Strange, the passage of time. Some months felt like eternities while others mere moments. Following Calliope’s gaze down to her hands, Magnolia hummed in sympathy. “Ah. I’m going to readily assume you’ve burned at least one person with that so far.” Her words held no judgement, simply knowing. “My brother had fire. It took him some time to figure out what to do with it, how it came out, how he could hone it. Mostly, he practiced taking control of it. Over and over he’d bring it up, make things burn, until he was exhausted. He figured if he had a very precise, constant trigger for it, then he could make sure nothing else could conjure it.” Magnolia shrugged, her own endeavor of control very different. “Air can be useful. It can divert flames or suffocate them. I’ve found intention has a lot to do with control. Have you called it intentionally yet?”

Baby islander. Somehow the term made her chuckle a little in spite of everything that entailed, and not altogether in a bitter way. “Yeah, figures,” she replied with a resigned sigh. The whole arriving at Meridium experience was a lot, something of that scale just had to find a way to bitchslap people, hadn’t it?

Cal’s lips turned into a silent ‘Oh’ as No spoke. She had gathered this woman was one of those that had inhabited the island for a while but not for that long. A time before color in film. “Yeah. Technology has done quite a lot for motion pictures, it’s impressive what they do these days,” she said, feeling stupid. She didn’t want to sound patronizing for knowing about the contemporary world while Magnolia didn’t, but she also didn’t know if she was supposed to tell her about the new inventions and whatnot. Probably not, unless she asked. But holy shit... Cal could barely wrap her head around what it would be like to be of a past era and talk to someone who belonged to a future time, hearing them casually talk about their lives and their world. Guess you’ll find out what that feels like in a few years, she thought.

“It’s useful, yeah. Don’t know if it’s as useful as other stuff people do at the farm but at least I might help avoid someone snacking on something that’s gonna make them kick the bucket,” she shrugged. She didn’t feel quite as useful as she did back home, practicing law, but it was a good enough assistance to the island community, she supposed. “I’d even take a shitty beer at this point,” Cal admitted with a low chuckle. She’d never been too picky with her alcohol, she’d hadn’t been an exception to buying cheap boxed wine in her college years. And even after, frankly. Then, as Magnolia turned, she followed her line of sight and then her ringer, which pinpointed a more specific location. She gave a nod. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on it,” she assured, offering a small smile in return. “I don’t have to give in return, but you want any specific herbs or anything, I’ll gladly get them for you”. Good ol’ trade was how things were done here, right?

The topic of her fire made her muscles tense up, almost like an instinct now. It was the sort of irrational thing that made her think that just letting a thought related to it cross her mind would invoke the flames. Speaking about, thinking about- it inevitably made her wary. So she just nodded, letting No know her assumption was correct. Calliope almost said that maybe Magnolia’s brother should teach her to tame her fire. But it didn’t escape her notice that the other woman said ‘had’ instead of ‘has’. She didn’t say anything about it, in case it was something personal, a prickly subject. “I sure as hell need someone to show me the ropes to this shit,” she said instead, “because it’s probably a matter of time before I burn myself or anyone around me to a damn crisp”. The tone of cynicism in her voice covered up for the fact that she was in fact terrified about the attunement she’d been dealt. It sounded nice and all to say the control had something to do with intention, but how the hell was she supposed to achieve that when her fire was very intentionally unpredictable and untamed. “Yeah, no. It goes out of control every time it happens, I’m not fucking calling it on purpose,” she scoffed.

#Magnolia: 01

emre:

Calliope was saying it all for them. She said everything that Emre wanted to hear, everything he’d fantasized about hearing from her; a fantasy, because he knew it was so wrong and potentially disastrous. She wasn’t a woman of many words - succinct and straight-forward, so she didn’t need purple prose. Maybe she kept her loquaciousness for the courtrooms.

And it was so greedy of him, so selfish and desperate, to wear this cloak of a ‘good man’. Pretend he could be worthy and better and redeemable in Calliope’s eyes, by asking for this. Asking her to give him permission, instead of having the willpower to deny himself.

She was captivating. Not just her beauty, or the way her fingers pressed heat and desire against him. Her words too, her tantalizing decisiveness. Calliope Warren - she knew what she wanted, and it was this. It was him.

Well. Who was Emre Akbar, to deny a woman like her, what she wanted?

That was his justification as he leaned in, urgent against her touch. His hands slipped around her again, and Emre hoped she didn’t notice his instinctive, minor flinch, when she touched the very burn scars she’d made on his arm. Emre didn’t want to give Cal’s sharp mind time to realize - so he breathed icy cool against her mouth, tongue darting just enough to swipe her open, steaming lips.

‘I want this.’

And there it was. The permission she needed to give him and herself, and Emre made a soft urgent noise as she pulled him tight against her. Emre kissed her back, marveling at this new sensation. The prickle and slick of deep warmth colliding with his cold frost, intermingling with every iteration of their kiss. He kept turning the wetness on their skin into frost, she kept melting it away.

Keep reading

Their kissing grew more heated, following the urgent rhythm of Emre’s motions. And Calliope easily let herself be swept away by it. She held on to him for dear life, savoring every bit of the normalcy to be found in something as ordinary as simple physical contact. And she felt exuberant, vibrant, just because she could feel and give touch.

Emre carried her, firm arms around her thighs and waist. Her legs wrapped around his torso as their kissing deepened. They were still half-submerged in the river and in the back of Cal’s mind all that water gave her a sense of safety, a pool to drown if her fire flared at any moment.

I got you, Emre said, and Cal believed him. She needed to believe it. She needed to know that she wasn’t really alone, despite how much effort she’d put in lately to make it so. She desperately wanted to contain all her fear -fear of herself- into a tight ball and hide it away, abandon it in the darkest, deepest corners of her mind and just let herself feel. Feel and live and enjoy.

Calliope desperately wanted to feel normal again, and nothing felt more normal than the elementary human experience of touch, both primeval and sublime. It all felt like it was rising, rising… then it stopped. Emre stopped.

She pulled away just an inch, a little breathless and a little confused by the abrupt ending as he lowered her back down and put more distance between them. “Did I hurt you?” she found herself whispering, wide eyes quickly searching for traces of burn marks on him. She found none. Only saw steam rise from his skin where her hands had been.

Emre was right as he spoke, of course, and she knew she should have held on tighter to the voice of reason earlier. It had been hard not to get carried away, though. “Yeah...” she muttered, nodding slowly. Her hands were still in Emre’s and she cherished that she didn’t quite have to give it all up just yet.

The water around them was safe. Emre’s cold skin, the iciness he could invoke, served as protection too and Calliope felt infinitely grateful for it. For getting to hold on to this, which was much more than she thought she’d ever get when she woke up this morning. So, slowly, with cautious and gentle motions, Cal moved closer and pressed her lips to Emre’s for just a second, She tasted the sweet coolness again, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. A tiny bead of water escaped the corner of her eye, feeling an easily recognizable sense of melancholia begin to spread inside of her, that sorrow that lived nestled in her heart reminding her not to want, not to wish, reminding in its familiar whisper ‘Nothing good lasts forever’. So Cal treasured the untangible beauty behind that gentle touch of their lips. “Can we kiss?” she asked, “Just kiss”.

She felt too vulnerable for a moment, too exposed, and that almost was enough for her to take back her words and run. But she didn’t do it. She hoped Emre wouldn’t turn away from her quiet brokenness. She hoped she could hold on to this, all of this -the atmosphere, the company, the feeling, the safety, the touch- for just a few more minutes.

#emre: 04

emre:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cal was slower, more luxurious in the way she pressed against him. Through her touch alone, she forced Emre to slow down, an unspoken, controlled communique. Clearly she knew how to do this from her own experience, her own understanding of what it felt like, to kiss and be kissed. What she wanted - Calliope knew what she wanted. Her measured encouragement elicited breathless noises from Emre - sounds of both relief and desire, mingling in his throat as he pressed continued cooling kisses along her skin.

It was bliss, to be with someone like this, intimate and close without any of the trappings of commitment shrouding them. Soaking in Calliope’s kisses, Emre deliberately dimmed problems he should be facing. Avoiding them by immersing himself in everything Calliope, the sleek heat of her body and her soft lips giving him permission and the graze of her eyelashes against his nose. The curious piano of her fingers against his back, her own exploration shooting a thrill up his spine.

Emre kissed the crook of her arched neck, then smiled. “Kickboxing, right, course. Should’ve known, in the way you were wrapping your hands, yeah. Like you were ready to throw down innit.” But even in their disturbingly comfortable and easy banter, Calliope tensed, pressing pause entirely. Her hands slowly retracted from him to hover, leaving a ghostly residue of warmth on his skin.

‘I don’t want to hurt you, Emre.’

She was giving them both a way out, and with good reason. Emre should take it. After all, he didn’t have to abandon her, nor would he. There were plenty of other ways to convince Calliope to let him support her, be a good person, that relic of a hero she’d called him when he’d pulled her out of the ocean. They didn’t have to touch in order to be friends, after all. His caring for Madi was ample proof of that.

And Emre didn’t want to give up this..embryonic whatever this was. Sick and selfish as it was, knowing she’d loathe him entirely if she knew who and what he was, Emre nevertheless wanted to keep Calliope in his world. In any way she wanted him.

So he should take her way out. Pull away, offer friendship from a distance.

But instead, holding her gaze, Emre reached for one of Calliope’s still-bandaged hands. She could pull away if she wanted, but he banked - hoped - she wouldn’t. He unwrapped the sodden strip of cloth, eventually exposing her palm. He studied her skin for scorch marks - Emre knew fire-attuned could burn themselves in their uncontrolled panic; he’d seen the results on his poor little brother.

Closing his eyes, Emre nuzzled into Cal’s open palm, nosing against her tender skin. “What if I want you to?” Emre asked her, the warmth of her hand sizzling against the icy cool of his face. “What else do you want then, Calliope?”

She stood there, stock-still. Her eyes followed Emre’s hands almost as carefully as he moved, unwrapping her wet bandages. The cloth was uncoiled. The redness of newer burn marks and the taut, darker skin of scarred tissue were scattered across her palms. Her brows knit together- unsure, afraid. She knew she had left similar marks on him before…

He caught her off guard with what he did next. Her expression softened, though still bearing some doubt and worry, as he nuzzled so gently against her hand. Cal trembled subtly. Why did he act like she was something precious and not horribly dangerous? Her dark eyes were trained on him, seeing the calm- the pure serenity in his face as his nose and lips brushed against her hand. That tenderness defeated her completely.

She cupped her hand to his face, feeling that unusual sensation of cold meeting warmth. They canceled each other out. They complemented each other. “I don’t want to...” she insisted again, her voice much quieter, hesitant and firm all at once somehow. He wasn’t rejecting her power, her danger. He was important to her so Calliope couldn’t condone the idea of harming him again.

But Emre asked her what else she wanted. And she knew. “I want to feel normal,” she murmured. There was an elongated, loaded pause. Slowly, she dared to let her other hand rest against his arm. The arm she burned once. “I want to touch you without fearing to do it,” she went on, eyes rising from that spot on his arm to stare at him directly. “I want to feel without fearing every emotion is a trigger...”

Cal leaned closer, glancing down to his lips, noses lightly brushing together. She looked up, meeting his eyes again. “I want to be here... with you... and not be afraid”.

#emre: 04 #under 'read more' because it's getting steamy

emre:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Emre didn’t know what to expect when he kissed Calliope; he only knew that he wanted to. And not just to distract himself from how wrong it was to be friendly with Calliope. He kissed her to distract from the growing realization that she saw him as a good person. (Which was what he wanted everyone to believe on this island; but with Cal, it seemed more of a lie than with anyone else, other than Madi. Cal knew Rose and Jo. It was too personal.)

He should be staying away from her, not trying to talk to her. Not trying to lead her to water, so she didn’t have to fear her magic. And certainly not kissing her.

Even despite their flirting and banter, Emre wouldn’t have been surprised if she pushed him back and even slapped him for his audacity. Here she was, after all, having a fiery-meltdown, isolating herself, big problems to deal with. She didn’t have time to deal with Emre’s random lust as well - except maybe she did. Not because she liked him, but…

What if Calliope wanted a distraction as well?

Maybe that was why Emre found her so magnetic; because in this respect, Cal was much like him. The sheer pleasure of touch, the way desire burned away (or drowned out) any bigger problems even if it was just for a moment. Maybe Calliope understood that darker, sordid language. The relief of want.

They surfaced for air, still connected. Emre’s hands twined tighter around her frame, his kiss deepening with every encouraging gasp she pressed against his lips. She was languorous, Emre was intense. She was so warm, slippery and pliable in the water. To compensate, Emre tried to keep himself cool by focusing on the delightful, piqued illicitness of their attraction. He knew things she didn’t. He was a liar and a bad man for doing this. He was tricking her, misleading her. His cold skin sizzled against her heat, steam rising between them.

Emre parted just enough to notice this, and he gave Cal a crooked grin. “Been in a few steamy situations, but nowt like this, yeah. Calliope…oh my days. Can’t resist you, can I.” Emre leaned in again, dotting cool kisses from her plush mouth down to her jaw, against the pulse of her neck. His hands explored her underwater - nothing intimate. More like he was mapping her body underneath his fingers. Her strong shoulders and arms, the sliding, sensual dip of her waist and swell of her hips, fingers sliding down her powerful thighs.

Emre grunted, thrumming with pleasure, intoxicated to blissful distraction by being so close to Calliope. “Damn you’re fit. You’re some sort of black belt innit. Won trophies in Chun Li and all that.”

This wasn’t the first time she was kissed after Yohan’s passing, but it was the first time it didn’t feel like she was just going through the motions in hopes of awakening something. Or quieting down the melancholia inside of her. Cal was present and very much aware of what was happening and how she was responding to Emre. And she liked it, frankly.

It was nice to let the chemistry provoke its reactions between the two of them. It was nice to get lost in something that felt so good after the quiet torment she had been going through and conscious decision to isolate herself from everyone else. She didn’t want to think that she was using him to feel somewhat better -and maybe she was, though not with any malicious intent-, to feel some form of relief, a much-needed respite. Hell, maybe he was using her for whatever reason he might want or need this moment of intimacy. She wasn’t about to judge, and much less care too much about the why. Her thoughts were firmly focused on what was happening.

Their rhythms didn’t quite match and that just made it all the more enjoyable. Emre was faster and she brought him down to her sensuous pace, to the delightful stretching of moments. Cal explored him at a slower pace and he took her up to the intense cadence of his movements, of his urgent kisses and caresses. It made it all unexpected, exciting.

His cool hands left a trail of goosebumps and she relished feeling her skin so awake. She hummed softly against his lips, moving closer to Emre’s body. One of her hands slid down to his spine, slipping under the hem of his shirt, caressing his back, pressing her fingers against his skin.

“Sorry to disappoint. I’m no street fighter,” she chuckled softly. “But don’t piss me off ‘cause I’ve been doing kickboxing for years”. That discipline always seemed like the perfect combo of self-defense and a way to stay fit for Cal. Even on the island, Cal had gone on practicing, even without the equipment.

Their lips parted for a second and she took a moment to notice the steam, actual steam, that was floating around them. Her lips tugged into a subtle smirk, unable not to because of this surreal -though very fitting- atmosphere. It was all because of the unnatural quality of his cool touch and her warm presence. Inevitably, she thought about her fire. Fear of it getting out of hand, even here. She slipped her hand from under his shirt. She lifted her fingers, one by one, from where her palm rested at he back of his neck. Cal hesitated, her hand hovering just an inch away from Emre’s skin.

There was conflict in her eyes. Calliope clearly didn’t want to pull away but her mind was beginning to get in the way. “I don’t want to hurt you, Emre,” she murmured. The very presence of the steam around them was proof that she was in some way emitting more warmth than usual, the precursor of her dreaded fire.

#emre: 04

lucas:

—

Luke tugs at the end of his lips, flashing a well-polished smirk he wears like his favorite baseball cap (not that he has a favorite cap). “Farm work? Nah, forget ‘bout it. It’s figuring out who’s cheating on whom and finding missing supplies where the money’s at.” He shrugs the shoulders with a dramatic flair before adding, “Well, figuratively.” She is keeping up with his sarcasm, which he can appreciate at least. Come to think of it, though, a P.I. might not have been a bad occupation for him back in the days. It’s just that on this island it has as much of a use as his previous job. Not many use for a journalist here.

He raises a brow, eyeing the obvious trail behind her. “Mm, call it a creative difference but out is not exactly the direction I’m going for.” He says, jerking his head toward the darker path past the tree into the deeper parts of the Jungle. He wasn’t trying to escape, at least not until he finds something interesting. “What, face you fear and some shit?” He presses his lips into a thin line, considering. Sure, the ghosts were creepy as fuck and some did get under his skin, but he didn’t think he needed a therapy. Still, traveling out here on their own just for that sounds reckless and dangerous. “That’s kinda ballsy. I like your style.”

“Yeah, like money could mean anything here,” she scoffed. What the hell of an use could something like money have here anyway? It wasn’t like Meridium could ever become some booming economy that could thrive like the good ol’ capitalist nations out there in the outside world. In that sense, the island seemed more like a more ancient civilization, based off of trade or the kindness of your neighbors when they gave you shit for free. He was saying it figuratively, as he pointed out. But still. Studying everyone and meddle in their personal lives hardly seemed like a good occupation...

“What the hell are you trying to get deeper in there for?” Cal asked with brow knit together in clear skepticism and her tone suggesting she couldn’t see how that was a good idea. Her hands landed on her hips and she studied him silently, beginning to think this guy belonged to the reckless category. Whether it was the interesting kind of reckless or the douchebag kind of reckless, that was still to be revealed. “Yeah, ballsy or stupid, depending who you ask,” she scoffed. Even Cal herself thought her own actions right now were somewhere between the two, to be honest.

#lucas: 01

emre:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“I can imagine. You must’ve pissed a lot of powerful people off, luv.” Emre recalled people like Calliope. Fighters and advocates who didn’t back down - so they were taken down, by force.

Emre knew, because he was the one to take them down. In Afghanistan, all for Queen and Country, for Uncle Sam. And in London, when a grassroots barrister stepped in circles he shouldn’t have, and pissed off the wrong people. And those people paid Emre’s boss, and that boss dispatched Emre. And in one night, the barrister’s career was brutally over. Permanent brain and spine damage. Emre was even commended for his efficient work.

Calliope didn’t back down - so how many times had she been a target, how many attempts on her life or livelihood? How many times had people with agendas and power, tried to stop her but failed? Emre wished he could ask her; but asking Cal meant that he knew that world, and he couldn’t raise Cal’s suspicions.

Besides, it was all over now, wasn’t it? She’d never have to lawyer again, not here. Society and all of its corrupt systems now obliterated by life on Meridium. She had nothing to fight for, except her own survival. They both had to shed old skins and be new people here; the only difference was Calliope was proud of her work back home; Emre was not proud of his.

“Well I’d hope you managed some accomplishments, yeah. Or else what was the point of all your battles, know what I mean. Tell me one day, about the difference Calliope Warren made in the world?” Emre eyed her, pleasant and sidelong. “And maybe one day you’ll show me just how troublesome you can be.”

Twisting in the stark ugliness that Calliope inadvertently shone on his past misdeeds, Emre only barely registered what Cal said next. They were in the water by then, holding each other’s arms while she realized: Emre hadn’t hesitated to salvage her from the sea suction-thing, despite his own fears of swimming.

Discomfort, cold and trickly, crawled up Emre’s spine like a trail of insects. She was looking at him in that way, a beautiful, stunning clarity in her deep eyes. A regard that Emre craved…but could he handle it?

The water around him got colder, his palms cradling Cal’s elbows freezing over. Emre didn’t notice the watery tell of his emotions, as he dismissively kissed his teeth. “Nah, I mean. I knew some; was in the Marines once yeah.” His easy excuse. He tried to smile. “Were just bollocks at swimming. Ironic innit.”

Emre couldn’t stand it. He loved it, he reveled in her newfound regard for him - and it also hurt, badly. People here called Emre a ‘hero’ and a ‘prince’ and a superhero and Madi found him friend-worthy and Sylvie trusted him to look after her and Tomas asked him to help. This was the new and improved Emre - wasn’t this what he bloody wanted? To be considered a good person?

Then why was it so hard, when Calliope Warren looked at him like this?

He should just chuckle modestly, pretend at humility, and let her believe in him.

Her peal of laughter and splashing broke his reverie. “Oi!!” Emre laughed, splashing Cal back as he looped an arm around her waist. Emre pulled Cal close for a breathless moment, only to dunk her underwater. He could’ve drowned her then. Iced everything over and kept her there.

Instead Emre submerged alongside her, cold fingers gently spanning her jaw. Calliope was luminous underwater, mythical in her beauty. Emre held her gaze, as he pressed a cool kiss to her warm lips.

“I sure did,” she replied with a light scoff, though a smirk ended up gracing her lips for a moment. Powerful people and otherwise. She’d gotten in the way of abusive CEOs who harassed those below them, of tyrannical mothers who treated their children in unspeakable ways, of husbands and wives who poured poison into their relationships and let them rot until assaults took place... Calliope had seen the worst of the worst of humanity in some of the cases she took, and she had certainly annoyed plenty of people in the process of working to bring culprits to justice and amend those situations.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of thoughts that were going through Emre’s head then. There was too much she didn’t know about it. She almost didn’t know him, really. His past. Her past. Everything about their lives up until the moment they found themselves on Meridium was a mystery. But knowing someone- Was it knowing what they had done? Where they came from and who their family was? What they dreamed about in their childhood and what they settled for in adulthood? What their greatest accomplishments were or their greatest mistakes? No one could truly know another, really. There were too many pieces to the puzzle of another- too short a time to put them all together...

But well, time was different on Meridium. Life was different. Here they had all the time in the world.

“Well, I don’t know about that- ‘Making a difference in the world’,” she repeated, even with air quotes. That sounded too big, too imposing. Like the sort of thing only people like Dr. King and RBG and Malala Yousafzai could attach to their name, not regular people. “But I like to think that the people I helped get out of awful situations... that I played a part in making their lives better”. The second part made her laugh a little. She had been troublesome with her contrary attitude, with her dissent, with her loud thoughts and loud voice against what she perceibed as unjust. She missed that troublesome part of her, which felt distant and almost foreign these days. These days she just felt fear and sorrow flowing through her veins.

Emre all but disregarded the significance of what he’d done and his touch turned chillier, something that Cal barely registered as the iciness of his hands melted away with her own warmth.

They splashed some water back and forth before Emre caught her and her pulled her underwater with him. She kept her eyes open, seeing him with the dreamlike, otherworldly frame of their watery atmosphere. They were intwined, closer, undeniably drawn to each other. Her own hands navigated across the pains of his arms, the curve of his shoulder, the crook of his neck. And then he kissed her, and Calliope kissed him back.

Their lips pressed together slowly, and she lingered in the exciting new discovery of what Emre felt like, what he tasted like. Her senses registered him vividly, and she pressed herself closer to him without urgency, savoring the stretch of every second. She cupped his face gently, their lips still pressed together and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

They emerged from the water like that, iciness and warmth kissing, joined together for a moment.

#emre: 04

magnolia:

❦

This stranger didn’t seem deranged, though she did seem wilted, and so Magnolia ambled forward on silent feet, heedless of the woman’s internal worry. She could feel her regarding her, assessing perhaps, and bore it with a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow, curious what her verdict would be.

“I’m not especially surprised to hear that,” she replied, oddly pleased at her sincerity. There was nothing she despised more than hollow small talk, it was just as well that this woman bypassed it. “Oh?” It wasn’t unusual for people to recognize her, or even just recognize her in theory. Being the alcohol producer meant people knew her, or knew of her, or, like this woman, saw her. “Are you an herbalist, then? Biologist. Whatever the kids are calling it these days.”

Before she could reply further, the wind whipped across the top of the Jag, rabid and dragging. There would be no easy discussion over the roar. With an irritated huff Magnolia forced the buffeting gale to still, the air to halt and be held in her grip around them. The stray grasses beyond the circle of her control still waved, but at their feet it was placid. With deft fingers she brushed stray hair out of her eyes, still half-wet from her swim. “That’s better,” she muttered, as though the wind had insulted her personally. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Magnolia, or No. I make the alcohol Tomas uses for disinfecting and tinctures. I come to the apothecary to exchange bottles—and the farm to get food, of course.”

Once again she swept the woman with her gaze, the feeling of something itchingly off remaining. “What brings you to the Jag, kiddo? Not many new people venture here alone. I’m assuming your among the plane folk.”

Cal was cynical enough to state in a flat, nonchalant manner that things weren’t going all perfectly fine when most people just gave a default ‘I’m okay’. She didn’t feel okay. She didn’t feel like she was in the depths of a descent either, but well... it could be worse. “I look that bad, huh?” she responded, partially amused by the sincerity of the other woman. The last few weeks had been rough on Calliope and she wouldn’t be surprised to hear it was showing on her. Or maybe it was just the state of being from all the islanders. I’ve been better. Surely they all had been better than this...

The other woman had a particular way of speaking that gave away immediately that there was... a generational difference between them, so to speak. Not that there was any evidence of it on the stranger’s face, it didn’t look like the two of them were too far apart in age. “I’m a lawyer,” Cal stated, finding it bitterly amusing how different her actual occupation was to what she did now on the island, if only to be helpful in some way. “Sort of got interested in plants after seeing how things turned out for Christopher McCandless seeing Into the Wild”. It hit her that the woman before probably hadn’t seen it? “Nevermind. It’s a film. Things didn’t end up too well for that guy after eating the wrong plants”. That last shot of McCandless looking to the ceiling of his van was seared into Cal’s memory. And well, it awoke in her the odd interest of edible and medicinal herbs. Something good had come out of that, she supposed.

Calliope was aware that people wielded the elements here, of course, but she didn’t see every day someone with the sort of control the other woman had over the air around them. She silently wondered how long it took her to learn to tame the wind. And she wondered how long it would take her to control her fire. “That’s impressive,” she mentioned with sincerity, raising a hand and gesturing with a finger around them, to the halted air. “I heard there was some alcohol around. Sounded too good to be true,” she laughed, just a vague hint of humor to the sound. Alcoholic drinks? On this purgatory? Wishful thinking, surely. But well, now she had confirmation that some was in fact being distilled by No. Damn, what she’d give for a good drink now.

Plane folk sounded like a weird moniker, but she supposed those that had been longer had their ways of more or less keeping track who got stranded here when. “Yeah. Proud new inhabitant of this place since last October”. Cal ended up just shrugging, trying not to get all woe-is-me about it. It was what it was. “I’m just- I wanted to keep some distance between myself and the others. I can barely control this fucking fire,” she glanced down at her hands, even if there were no flames around it at present. “Didn’t think I’d run into anyone here,” she added as she looked up.

#Magnolia: 01

lucas:

—

Luke snorts at her snark, sticking the spear on the soft earth of the jungle floor, and pulls out a water bottle. “Yeap, I’m a proper Sherlock Holmes. Was thinking of opening a P.I. agency here.” He jokes dryly, matching her tone. He recognizes her from around the island, just saw her in passing. One of the Plane People if his memory serves.

He takes a sip of the water in his safe distance and replies, “seeing how I keep on returning to this same fuckin’ tree, I get the sense that I’m going in circle.” He admits, finding no point in denying. From the look of it, she doesn’t look like she is trekking seriously, not like Luke with his backpack of supplies and weapons. “What are you doing out here? Don’t look like you’re here to hunt or venture.” If she is just taking a casual stroll in the Jungle, which is not exactly recommended, they shouldn’t be too far from the edge of the Jungle. “Not many people come out here after that ghost and monster business.”

Cal scoffed a little at his response, at the very least appreciating that he also spoke Dry Humor. “Points for creativity, most of us have settled for farm work or shack building,” she mentioned in a mildly joking way, though sounded just as cynical as before. What the hell kind of use would have a PI on weird as fuck island filled with undying stranded people? No clue. But she wasn’t about to put any boundaries on a place that clearly had no boundaries of possibility. Maybe if someone’s coconuts got stolen, PI guy here would get a gig...

Calliope glanced at the tree in question and then back at this guy. She recalled his face, not his name. “Well, I didn’t get lost on my way here. So-” she tilted her head back, partially looking over her shoulder. A silent indication that he could just walk back with her. “Yeah, I know. I was one of those people. Call it good ol’ exposure therapy, I guess,” she casually said, as if it hadn’t taken all her courage to decide to venture into the very place that gave her a fucking traumatic experience.

#lucas: 01 #ignore the drink lol it's the attitude that counts

emre:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“As if you’ve ever backed down from a challenge in your life,” Emre threw back at Calliope, with a lazy one-shouldered shrug. “I’m just out here trying to match all that brimming Calliope energy.” He would’ve said it felt like it was coming off her in waves, that he liked the prickly, staticky energy between them. But maybe it sounded too much like he was implying heat-waves. And if she thought she could burn people without even touching them, she might just rabbit and hide herself even deeper, further, so no one could come near her.

Emre didn’t want that.

So he just gave her a half-mast look, eating up the sultry enigmatic sting of her gaze on him. Damn, she was hitting all the right buttons now. Even the fact that she was still afraid, yet pushing herself through that fear. The fact that they couldn’t even touch, not without the potential for terrible harm. That only added to the illicit and forbidden intoxication, for Emre.

He had to ask then, half-teasing, half-curious. “Have you ever backed down, darling?” Emre’s eyes stayed on her, his expression silently speaking that Emre felt was too personal to say out loud: don’t back down now. The fire-attunement was just one more challenge for Calliope to rise up to, and conquer, wasn’t it?

“I have been practicing to swim yeah. Been learning with Tamyra Williams, even,” Emre piped up, not yet realizing that the way Calliope said it, nearly sounded like she might offer to teach him.

“I’ve been keeping busy innit. What else is there to do on this island.” Even saying that made Emre feel awash with…not sympathy, not exactly. Compassion for Cal, maybe? (It was hard to define; Emre rarely felt anything deep towards anyone who wasn’t his brother. But this island changed everything for him, didn’t it?) Whatever the feeling, it couldn’t have been easy for Calliope. People were trying to live and build a new life on the island around her; and all the while, she avoided any help, any notice.

Somehow, Emre didn’t think Calliope was the sort who preferred isolation.

So when he took her hands under the water, Emre watched her face carefully, to see how she’d react. As distracting as her allure was, this was the whole reason he’d brought Cal to the river - and he wanted to know how she felt about it. What she thought. If there was still a way to salvage everything she’d had to give up, because of her unwanted abilities.

And yet, hearing her say ‘thank you’, her voice so relieved, wasn’t what Emre expected. He pursed his mouth, shaking his head. “No, luv. Don’t worry about that,” he said, then lowered down in the water. Emre kept a hold of her hands, a trill of warm pleasure in his belly, at the way her fingers curled around his tighter. She wasn’t pulling away; she didn’t want to let go.

Emre submerged, leaving only his nose and eyes above the surface. Emre looked up at Calliope; when he stood properly again, his mouth was full of water - which he promptly spouted at her.

Touché. Perhaps she should have been less willing to meet every single challenge that was dangled across her face, but there was something in Cal that never let her. She was too damn stubborn for her own good... So the corners of her lips tugged up into a half-smile, shaking her head a little.

It didn’t surprise her in the least that Emre ended up asking if she had ever backed down from a challenge in the past. She couldn’t think of a single time, not at the top of her head, anyway. “Na-ah,” she replied in a sing-song manner, half-proud and half-amused by her own freaking bullheadedness. “And the amount of trouble that’s gotten me,” she glanced up, thinking about the many times she didn’t keep her mouth shut when she should have, when she’d actually gotten physically injured because ‘no’ wasn’t a possibility. And man, all those times she just worked hard to prove her worth in the eyes of people who looked down their nose at her for her gender, her skin color, her parents’ earnings. It pushed her to foolishness, for sure. “Some good’s come out of it too. A lot of it, at times, or I wouldn’t keep putting myself in those situations”. She looked at him in silence after that. She was putting herself in a situation from which she didn’t want to back down now... She really didn’t want to, but that sneaky fear, the caution about her own dangerous touch, was keeping her from taking another step.

“Good. There’s too much fucking water on a lonely island, you better get on top of your game when it comes to swimming”. Surviving all they had survived just to drown? That was downright sad. Hell, she was a good swimmer and she had nearly drowned... And then it hit her. “Wait,” she said, mulling over the thought that had just crossed her mind. “You were a newbie to swimming and you went underwater to get me anyway...”. He knew what she meant. He knew when.

Damn... Cal didn’t know if she would have done what Emre did that day. If she didn’t feel at ease in the water, like she could survive its understated danger, she didn’t think she would plunge into it to rescue another person.

That meant something to Cal that day. What he was doing for her now -giving her a respite from her constant fear- also meant something now. All in water, she thought, envying that powerful and symbolic element of his even more. She let herself be held by him with half their bodies below the surface. His hands felt soothing against her arms and hands as he trailed his palms up and down her skin. Even if her own hands were to burn now, nothing would happen and that eased her beyond words. There was warmth in her for sure, though not at all because of her inner fire.

Emre submerged somewhat and Calliope looked at him with raised eyebrows, waiting to see what he was about to do next. In no time he was spitting water her way and she let go of him only to retaliate with laughter and splashing water in his direction.

#emre: 04 #he's too precious; your honor

Do you have a type? And/or what do you look for in a friend?

“Does it serve any purpose to have a type? Life throws you someone who doesn’t fit the bill most of the time,” Cal stated with a scoff. People came up with these lists of traits, images of physical traits they liked, and in the end, the heart just wanted what the heart wanted. She never thought she’d go for a guy like Yohan; the pseudo-bohemian, artsy guy with hipster vibes who liked super obscure films and music, and was all ‘fuck the system’ and ‘fuck capitalism’ at every turn of every conversation. Cal thought he’d be insufferable after their first meeting, just another pretentious Art Person (emphasis on the capital A and the capital P). He definitely didn’t fit the image of the man she thought she’d end up falling for and marrying...

“I look for honesty. I need to know- to be aware that my friends are people I can trust,” she added with a calm tone, sounding almost casual, but there was an undeniable firmness to her voice. That wasn’t the sort of thing to negotiate with Cal. “And I don’t mean that they have to tell me absolutely everything, I know not everyone feels comfortable opening up completely. I sure as hell don’t,” she shrugged, “Just- No lies. That’s a dealbreaker for me”. There was a brief pause and then she nodded once, full of certainty. “Yeah, honesty’s about it. I’m fine with the rest of their quirks being a surprise”.

#Calliope: answered

lucas:

DATE: January 26th, 2021 TIME: 02:42 PM LOCATION: the Jungle

“We’ve got to stop runnin’ into each other like this,” sighs Luke, staring at the marking he left on the tree he has passed 30 minutes ago. It’s confirmed, he is going in circles. He has been lost in the Jungle before. There were some close calls sure, but he made out in one piece… more or less. The last time it happened was the ghostcapade, so he might be crazy to travel this deep into the Jungle after that incident…

He wasn’t all that worried, though. The Jungle felt pretty much the same– the only threat he encountered today was a pack of territorial monkeys throwing rocks and branches. So when his heightened hearing catches something moving, he readies his makeshift spear to scare whatever wildlife away. Soon, he realizes that the footfalls are more human than small apes, and he lowers his weapon. “You’re not a monkey.” He states the obvious, finding a woman emerging from the bushes. He scans her up and down, “and you don’t look a ghost. You lost or something?”

@calliope-warren

Cal knew that if she didn’t dare to step back into the jungle sometime soon she would never do it again. The traumatic experience that stemmed from the search -both the hauntings from the undead and the manifestation of her fire- had been too much... she retreated into a shell of isolation and worry, and for a while it seemed like the jungle was the reason for it all. But the jungle had only been the setting of her trauma, not its source. Cal had been thinking about it endlessly and she was aware that she was too dominated by fear these days. She didn’t know how to break all the new habits and patterns she’d created because of that but she wanted to at least take away some power from that fear.

She lacked so much control over what was going on with her, but one thing she could control was where she went. And so she headed into the jungle little after noon, not planning to get in too deep, but deep enough to feel she was facing something that had been haunting her.

Calliope was walking calmly, trying to pay attention to the beauty of nature rather than what this place unveiled the last time she was there. It didn’t take too long for her path to lead her to someone else and she stopped some good meters away, keeping a safe distance (for his sake, not hers). She arched an eyebrow as he spoke, thinking that was an odd way to strike up conversation. “Keen observation,” she stated flatly, sounding quite unimpressed by his deductive skills. “No, I’m not lost. Are you?”. So far Cal had pretty much followed a trail and hadn’t strayed from it so going back without getting lost simply meant to turn back around and walk the same path.

#lucas: 01

emre:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Emre didn’t say anything when Calliope argued back with him, then shut herself down. He wasn’t going to prod or egg her. Because sooner or later it would come out, in some fashion. In violence or tears or confessions, or in cruelty or self-harm or a dozen other ways. They were on this island forever - there was only so long Calliope could keep this up.

Then again, from what little he knew of Calliope, Emre guessed she could probably keep this sullen isolation and wall-building up for…years. Maybe decades.

Still, Emre wanted to try something, offer one option of a more immediate respite for Calliope. He wasn’t much for arguing with words, but with actions.

“Ooh, is that a challenge?” Emre retorted, his tone drawling and suggestive. “You don’t know what I can handle, luvvie. Then again, I don’t know what you’d offer; but I’m not afraid. I’d take that challenge, I would.”

Entering the water, Emre suppressed a pleased sigh as he soaked in the coolness. He’d never really appreciated water, as much as he did on the island. The magic of the element soaked through him, and Emre willingly allowed it. He didn’t try to resist, like the new fire-people felt compelled to do. Maybe he was lucky that way. There certainly was an ugly, unfair irony to the fact that such good people - like Calliope - got such a terrifying magic.

He turned, surprised to see that Calliope didn’t hesitate to follow him into the water. Emre’s eyes widened, his smile slow and easy as he watched her. As he soaked Calliope in, as easily as he did the water that surrounded him.

“Can you swim? I had to learn, when I got on the island. Not very good at it yet, but I’m getting there. Few more years practice, yeah.”

Emre watched as Calliope submerged, then slowly rose up again, dewy beads of water trailing down her skin. He tried - and failed - not to look at her chest under her wet shirt.

Instead, Emre bobbed closer to Calliope where she stood. “This is my element, yeah. My magic. Now, don’t pull away.” With that brief warning, Emre reached under the water, and before she could stop him, Emre took Calliope’s hands in his. He held on, anticipating her trying to pull away; Emre kept their hands submerged, and he didn’t let her go. Her skin was warm, much warmer than his. But Emre’s hands, underwater, remained cool.

It worked. Just like with Madi in the drinking trough, it worked. He didn’t even need to breathe ice into his hands (Emre doubted he could right now anyway; he wasn’t sure how his water control worked just yet); but so long as Emre kept calm, his temperature remained cool enough.

Emre grinned as he watched for Calliope’s reaction to what he was doing. His palms slid along her wrists, up to her elbows and then back down to her hands.

“Oi, lookat that Safe to touch others, when you’re taking a good soak. You can’t burn anyone, so long as you keep yourself cool innit. Least, that’s how I think it works.”

There was some tension between them for a moment and Cal knew both of them could rein in the conversation into a full blown argument if any of them tried. But they didn’t. Both stayed silent, she was quietly grateful for that. There was something in her urging her to make sure Emre got angry, that he stayed angry with her, so he would make the wise decision to avoid her on his own accord. That would keep him safe. But the truth was... she didn’t truly want to fight with him or argue, or keep this fucking distance she’d been keeping over the past weeks. And Cal felt so goddamn selfish for it, because she was thinking only about what she wanted and needed, not about what might be safer for someone she cared about.

A small smirk graced her lips as he answered. Their banter felt familiar and normal, and Cal appreciated that she could have this at least for a while. She didn’t know if she would feel compelled to crawl back into her shell later -in a few hours, in a few days- but at least for now she enjoyed the moment. “Would you?” her smile turned suggestive, mysterious, and she looked at him like she was keeping secrets he might want to uncover. “Someone doesn’t back down from a challenge, huh?” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. Cal might as well have been talking about her, really, but Emre was challenging her and she felt that spark of wanting to rise to occasion, to be up for whatever was put before her to conquer.

Deep down she knew it was a bluff from her part, though. Because this particular challenge... well, she couldn’t do much if she was so fearful of touching Emre to begin with. She might have wanted the physical contact, but the constant reminder that she might set him on fire was a much louder voice in her mind.

“Yeah. Learned when I was little,” she replied, taking notice of the way Emre’s eyes trailed down to her chest. She couldn’t say it bothered her. She didn’t always appreciate the ways the eyes of men moved across her body, lecherous, with clear entitlement in their gaze to be looking in that way. But there were other ways, stolen glances, magnetic; and Cal felt a certain surge of power and confidence in feeling attractive. “You’ll get plenty of time to practice how to swim in a place like this,” she said casually, hands still brushing back her hair before she let them down into the water. She almost offered to help him practice his swimming skills, but she didn’t want to say something and then not keep her word if she felt like she needed to draw back into isolation for the safety of others. She never knew how her fire would behave and how that would make her react.

When he moved closer Cal almost stepped back, more out of instinct than by any conscious decision. She’d been getting used to back away and hide lately, after all. His hands found hers under the water and he held them. The fearful tension that had been keeping her hostage suddenly left her body as Cal understood what Emre was doing before he had to say it. She couldn’t ignite any fire underwater. She was safe here, and so was he.

Looking down at their joined hands beneath the rippling movement of the water, a grin spread across Cal’s lips and she let out a breathy chuckle, so full of relief. She glanced up to meet Emre’s eyes and her fingers wrapped his, feeling reassured and at peace. “Thank you,” she said, and hopefully she managed to convey just how much she’d been in need of a moment to just let go of her fears and find some measure of serenity. And Emre had just given her that.

#emre: 04

If they had a Spotify account, what would be their top 3 most played songs?

Cal has a very varied taste in music. House, Funk, R&B, Rock, Ambient, Folk. Depends on the day, on her mood, or the occasion.

“Temptation” - Joey BadA$$. Awesome rhythm and a poignant social message? This song is right up Cal’s alley.

“No Fate Awaits Me” - Son Lux. Nothing quite resonates with Cal’s inner sorrow, the nostalgia of a beloved past, and the quiet, surviving hope of better things to come than this song. Everything about it, from the lyrics to the music and its hauntingly beautiful energy move Cal every single time she listens to it.

“Cherry” - Jungle. Chill. As. Hell. This is hands down Cal’s favorite Jungle song (and she likes a lot of their music). For her, the vibe of the song is both relaxing and the kind that makes her want to move her body without a care in the world. And man, does she love to dance!

#Calliope: answered

akbartheolder:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Why?” Emre challenged back, when Calliope sniped at him. She was angry - maybe not mad at him, he believed that. But he could see that she was angry. At herself, at her magic, at the island, at being stuck here - Emre could only guess at the wide myriad of reasons she had for being upset.

“Worried I’ll try to get back at you? It was an accident, luv. What you saw out there, them ghost-things…” Emre shook his head, not wanting to make assumptions. But he did suspect if it had just been any random ghost and not a ghost-man in a hospital bed, begging for death, then the outcome for Calliope would’ve been much different.

“My brother’s got the fire-magic, and my mate on the farm. Seems I’ve been getting used to it,” Emre said, to deflect her suspicions that he was mocking her. “I got a bit of practice on the fire-front, yeah.”

And yet, it still didn’t seem like Calliope wanted him to fuck off, and it didn’t seem like she was getting increasingly agitated with him either. Those stolen glances at him, the way she remained poised on the large driftwood, as if waiting. Or at least not knowing what to do with herself just yet. Like she was torn between choices, maybe. Like she wanted something, but didn’t know what.

So he was glad that when he suggested she follow, Calliope’s curiosity got the better of her. She held onto herself tightly, and Emre kept his distance. “Depends on how nasty you want to get, sweetheart,” Emre bantered back at her, giving a light laugh when she pretended at disappointment. And she even gave a small, cautious chuckle of her own.

He reached their destination. It was the swell of the river where Aurélie had first discovered Emre practicing his water-magic. The river had expanded now from the rain, but there was still a shallow part that swirled around rocks jutting out from the water.

Emre looked at Calliope for a moment, then got his flip flops off and stepped into the river. He walked in, sinking as it got deeper, until the water came up just under his chest.

“Come on,” he beckoned, his tone sure and reassuring. “You’ll make it steamy, but that might just be on account of you being proper hot, not your magic. Don’t worry about that; just come into the water, yeah. You’ll see how good it’ll feel, trust.”

“You seriously need me to break it down for you?” she responded abruptly, frowning, narrowing her eyes a little. The exasperation she was feeling was in no way because of Emre, all the anger she had been feeling over the past weeks simply stemmed out of guilt and fear and regret. Two people actively keeping their distance was easier than just one, because inevitably, the one who didn’t do it could go looking for the other person. “You know what? Nevermind,” she just shook her head and looked away. “The bottom line is that you’re better off staying away because I’m a fucking ticking time bomb. And the next time the fire goes off, I don’t want you around”. She didn’t want anyone around, least of all someone who had saved her life. And what had she done? Not only had she failed to have his back and try to do for him what he’d done for her on this bizarre as hell island, she’d actually done harm, regardless of it being accidental. It felt like the balance of the scales just didn’t add up.

Calliope ran a hand through her hair when Emre mentioned the ghosts. That experience alone had been terrifying enough without her exploding with fire powers. It touched a nerve, seeing what she saw and hearing what she heard. From what she’d told Emre about her late husband, he surely had done the math already and understood why she had such an intense response to that particular scenario.

She shook her head in response to his question. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that he might want to get back at her because it didn’t seem like something Emre would do, in spite of his admissions to having been a rowdy one before. He might have it in him, but at least around her he never behaved like someone who was vindictive in that way. “Do you want to?” she asked as she glanced towards him, feeling enough intrigue to want to learn what his thoughts were regarding that.

It sounded like a bad turn of fate, to be surrounded by so many people with the attunement to fire. Or maybe she was the only one who lost control this much and Emre’s brother and his friend weren’t this much of a danger to him. But hearing him say he had practice brought a rueful smile to her lips. Maybe she was just hearing what she wanted to hear in those words but it sounded like maybe... he could handle it? It wasn’t fair to want him to handle something like that, though.

Emre teased her and kept up with the innuendos and Cal felt the response before she even spoke. It felt like slowly sprouting out of a shell, even if for a moment. It was something physical, something she could feel in her body, in her posture and her expression. “Please,” she smirked, slowly shaking her head, “You couldn’t handle it”. And it felt like a deep breath of fresh air to respond to his banter, to match him quip for quip, that for those brief seconds, Cal could quiet down her fear.

Calliope followed him, suppressing the urge to ask where he was taking her. That would defeat the purpose of receiving a surprise, after all. And soon enough they were by the edge of a river. And in no time, Cal was following him into the water, leaving behind only her shoes.

She felt welcomed by the river and moved down to submerge fully, rising to the surface after a couple of seconds, brushing her wet hair back. It felt nice. It felt cleansing and light, like she could wash away the weight of the concerns she’d been carrying at least while she was here. She glanced towards Emre and smiled a little. "So, this is your element?” she couldn’t help but ask, feeling a hint of curiosity over what attunement he’d been dealt. Fuck, what she would give to have gotten water instead. It surely came with its downs as well as its ups, but it sounded like a far better deal than fire.

#emre: 04 #me: a pro at rambling

magnolia:

@calliope-warren

Magnolia rested deep in the water by the base of the Jag, the berating sounds of life muffled, empty blue stretching around her, and the midday sun beating down from above. Breathing water felt like sucking in syrup, and the salt made each breath sting, but the water cradled her, easing the hurt and lingering tension. Alone like this, she let her mind wander to gentler days when she and her brother would throw themselves shrieking from the top of the cliffs to the chagrin of Idris. In his absence she’d stopped, but the sudden desire to revel in the rush of air and the crash of water spurred her swimming towards shore.

Though years had passed since she’d bothered to walk this path, a lesser used, less tame route to the top of the Jag full of tucked away crevices and nooks in the tall rocks, her feet remembered the way. It wasn’t with grace that she ventured higher and higher, but determined patience, her attunement buoying her as she found the best purchases. She paused for breath at the apex, the top of the Jag dotted with rocks and vegetal outcroppings. Here, where the wind ripped freely over the surface, she heard someone else—odd, she thought, as so few people bothered to venture here.

Without much consideration, she strode forward on silent feet, following the sound of another’s breath. She found that the wind rarely lied, and something about the sounds of life felt off and drew her closer and closer until she was met with a figure she didn’t recognize. “What are you doing up here?” she asked, casting her voice across the distance remaining between them. “I don’t recognize you.” Glancing around them proved they were alone, which somehow felt all the more odd. The newcomers seemed to flock together like flamingos. “Are you alright?”

It was Calliope’s first time venturing to the Jag. She’d seen it plenty of times from the beach already, a lonely rock formation that sometimes called to her with the promise of an escape and of isolation. The swim energized her, the cool water of the ocean a more definitive wake-up than the rising sun had been earlier. She found, not without some gratitude, that she felt safe in the water, like it was the only thing that could prevent her fire from manifesting in the erratic ways it did sometimes.

Her wet clothes began to dry with the breeze and the sun once she began to hike about in the Jag. For the most part of her solo adventure Cal was certain that the rocky island was just hers, but then she had an unsettling feeling of being watched. She was proven right when someone eventually appeared, calling out from a distance. A safe distance, Cal thought warily, hoping her fire would remain tame for now. “Well, I’ve seen you around,” she stated in return, quietly studying the stranger. Yes, she was one of those vaguely familiar faces from the islanders she spotted from time to time. There was a constant repetition of faces on Meridium considering the number of inhabitants wasn’t big at all. Yet Cal didn’t know the woman’s name. “I’ve been better,” she shrugged, her pessimism keeping her from replying with a polite and casual lie. “But yeah, I’m alright”. She hadn’t burned herself or anyone else today, so that counted as a good day in Cal’s books. “I’ve seen you at the farm. I harvest some of the herbs from the apothecary,” she added. It was around that area that she recalled seeing her before. “I’m Cal, by the way”.

#Magnolia: 01 #thanks for the starter; dear!

stay-close

And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can't ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it's already happened.

— Douglas Coupland, Life After God

#Calliope: musings

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