Honeymoon sweet.

[Vega]

1st Cylus, 719

"WAKE UP!" Vega screamed at him, her voice high pitched and terrified. As she screeched, she also did what could only be described as battering him, hitting him hard and repeatedly. But she was hitting him with the flat of her hand and, when Arlo wasn't fast enough to awaken, she dived on top of him and rolled, the pair of them, off the bed with a resounding crash. Vega kept rolling him, trying to put out the flames and her face showed the fear she felt as the smell of smoke and burning flesh pervaded her nostrils. It was his flesh that she could smell, and her hair burning. She could smell them, and she could see the flames which licked up over him.

And then, were gone.

It had been not many breaks before that moment when they'd got married, fought some truly hideous beasts which had attacked the docks of Yaralon and Vega had pulled off some (if she did say so herself) rather impressive acrobatics. Having ridden one of those flying dog-dragon-flame-beasts, she'd been hit around a bit and her shoulder was a mass of vivid purple bruises. But evidently, she hadn't lost any of her strength as she'd been trying to hit out the flames which she'd seen. He'd have bruises to match tomorrow.

Now, though, her eyes widened as she realised that there were no flames, and Vega's hand flew to her mouth as she backpedalled from him as quickly as she could. "Chrien's knickers, Arlo, I'm sorry." Her gaze showed her confusion, a myriad of colours swirling in them, but turquoise and black were the main shades; flecks of silver, yellow and white faded in and out and her eyes were wide above her hand. She looked at him and tears sprang into her eyes, although none spilled. "You were on fire," she whispered, gesturing to the bed where they'd been sleeping. "I saw it, right clear with my own eyes, Arlo. I.. I smelled it too. Your skin, my hair, it were... " Shaking her head, Vega scrambled up, moving towards the door. "I've got to get out. I need air. I'm sorry, I'm righ' sorry."

Outside it was dark, and cold and Vega breathed in the cold air with a shuddering breath and frowned darkly. As he came out behind her and wrapped the blanket around her, she turned to Arlo and smiled, although the expression went nowhere near her eyes. "You were on fire. It's gettin' worse, innit?" She'd been thinking that she could smell burning, or that she'd seen smoke out of the corner of her eyes, on and off, for a while. But this was bigger than any of those.

"That's it," she said with a disparaging grin. "You've married me an' I'm goin' nuts. Typical man, that is." Motioning to him, she gave a slightly apologetic grin. "Sorry I was hittin' you." With a deep sigh, she pulled the blanket around herself and glared at him. "I hate feelin' weak, an' vulnerable an' stupid an' if you even look at me funny right now, or say the wrong thing, I'm gonna punch you into next Saun." She quite meant it, of course, as she rested her head against his shoulder. "What in the name of Ziell's skid marks are we gonna do, Arlo?"

[Arlo Creede]

Thanks to Cassion's blessings, along with being the child of said Immortal, Arlo didn't sleep often. And when he did, he didn't sleep long. But even at that, during those brief interludes, he slept hard. It wasn't easy to rouse him. Lyova tended to have an easier time of it than anyone else who wasn't able to access his inner mind. But no one could slumber through the pounding that Vega was currently giving him.

His eyes had flown open in response to her shouting and the blows she was raining down on him, but his reflexes were a bit slower catching up and before he could stop her, she'd tackled him and knocked them both to the floor. "Vega, stop it!" he said, grabbing at her arms to stop her flailing. But then suddenly she stopped. "What's wrong with you?" he grunted. Oh. That again. He knew what it was, and frowning, rubbing at his shoulder he sat up and looked long and hard at her. Looking to see for sure if she'd gotten her wits back about her.

It was that again. "I'm not on fire, Vega. There's no fire," he assured her. But by then she already realized that. He couldn't fathom what had gotten into her lately. But lately, he'd been struggling with some demons of his own. He'd only mentioned it once, but hadn't again. It was the dreams. Always the same. She was down below, trapped, and no matter what he did he couldn't get to her. It was particularly maddening considering he was a dreamwalker with a good deal of experience. He should be able to shape his dreams. Manipulate them. Determine the outcome and yet he couldn't. Not even Lyova could help him sort it out. And it meant that what little sleep he did indulge in, wasn't all that restful lately.

"Don't be sorry, Vega," he said, but already she'd fled the tent before he could even get up. If it was anyone else, under any other circumstances, he'd have said she'd gone mushy in the head. Had become delusional. Had crumbled under the steady onslaught of fire related disasters they'd stumbled upon in the last arc or so. But he knew Vega, and so he knew better. "Yeah, it's getting worse," he agreed as he wrapped the blanket round her, and got busy heating water for tea. Even better, for Vega, a mug of hot chocolate. "And you know," he said, grinning as he glanced back at her, opting to lighten the mood even the slightest bit if he could, "It's usually the fella that gets his screws loose when he marries."

So what could they do? He tended to think that they ought to first look at the origins of the problem, before they set about solving it. "The answer might be in the origins. And I don't think it's as easy as just saying that you're touchy about fire, and that it's gotten to you. I've been plagued by something of late too," he explained as he pushed the mug into her hands. "Not related to fire, but when I thought back, I realized it started in Rharne. Dreams. Always the same. Bad ones and I can't walk my way through or out of them. As if there's something or someone else meddling in my dreams. Someone I can't see or identify."

So, how long had she been smelling smoke when there wasn't any? Thinking things were on fire that weren't. "Seems to me that started around the same time. And don't you think it's a little beyond coincidence that we've faced fire...things on fire, things that breathe fire, and so on, a lot more than would seem our share?" Of course, he couldn't quite square the nature of his dreams with Vega's being tormented by thoughts, smells and visions of fire out of control. "You have to wonder though who we've managed to get cross-ways with, don't you?" he asked.

[Vega]

1st Cylus, 719

"Shurrup, you dweeb," she said, when he pointed out that it was usually the man in the partnership who had the 'loose screws'. It was her way of saying thank you to him, of course, of acknowledging and recognising that he was doing his best to help her. Vega pulled the blanket around herself, while he fussed around making tea or, as it turned out, hot chocolate. Her lips lifted in a smile as he put the mug in her hand, "though, since you make me this, I'll put up with you." Leaning against him, she felt her emotions calming and then, Arlo started talking.

It made sense, too, what he said. Find out about the origin of this. He didn't think she was just losing her mind and for that Vega was more than grateful. She was, there was no doubt, twitchy when it came to fire. But then, they both had more than enough reason to be, she knew. Listening to him, though, Vega frowned slightly. He was being plagued by a dream, always the same one. But with his Dreamwalking ability, that shouldn't be happening, Vega knew. Since she had died and come back, Vega had been more or less unable to dreamwalk. Now and then, she got lucid in her dreams, but most of the time, not. So, his revelation about a dream he had been plagued by caused a deep frown on her face. "Hmm." Was all she said, though. For now.

Because, it made sense to think about it in terms of when this had started and Vega nodded, her frown turning to one of concentration. "Yeah, since Rharne, I guess. I mean, it's jus' .." Vega sighed and looked at him in surprise when he said that they'd faced more than their fair share of fire-related things. Looking at it, Vega tried to make sense of it. "Since Scalvoris, an' the whole Fire-Forged Rose malarkey, I've jus' assumed that I'm seein' it more, you know?" But, then, looking at it she had to admit that there was a level of logic to his words. "I mean, are we attractin' it? Am I? Why? How?" It certainly wasn't on purpose, that was for sure. "Do you think it were somethin' left over from Scalvoris? Or Rharne? I mean... I dunno. I jus' want it to stop." Never was there a truer word spoken, and she considered it.

"Maybe, since I've stopped dream walkin' an' you're havin' dreamin' issues, it's around that, but ... I dunno, Arlo, Rharne feels like when this bit started." The stuff before, she said with a grin, was a different kind of lunacy and she'd dealt with that. "Maybe," she said, thoughtfully, "I should like meditate. Or pray. Or somethin'. See if Xiur's got some insight, or Qylios?" With a shrug she gestured around. "The Yaralonians don't like Xiur. Cos they're a bunch of stupid asshats, but there we go. Got somethin' against hope, apparently. Right flibberties my gibbet it does. I get beaten up in Rharne 'cos I've got red hair, an' in Yaralon they hate the Immortal who has looked after me all my life. It's not easy, bein' me." She grinned, completely unconcerned what anyone else thought about her choices, other than him. They could all, frankly, jog on.

"So, I might do that. What do ya think? You wanna do the same? Or we could dream together. You'll need to wake me up in the dream but, you can do that easy enough." Sipping the last of her hot chocolate, Vega looked at him, her gaze firm and resolute as she asked the inevitable question. "Fess up, Creede, what's the dream?"

[Arlo Creede]

A mug of rich, warm chocolate topped off with cream, almost always brought a smile to Vega's face, and was at least a start to making things better. For that reason, Arlo always made sure to keep some in stock. Each place they visited, he sought out the best place to buy it...and always bought plenty. He liked sweets too, but not nearly to the extent that she did.

Of course it was only naturally that she was touchy about fire. What she'd been through, just a fraction of what she'd been through as good as assured it. If she wasn't, he might have thought that the lack of sensitivity to it was concerning. This was different however, and no, while Vega could be temperamental and her imagination was just as developed as his, he didn't think she was imagining her current predicament. Arlo was convinced that there was something, or even someone outside the two of them that was responsible.

"You're bound to be more sensitive about fire, more aware," he considered. "But I think this is more than that. I have to wonder if it's not so much a question of Scalvoris or Rharne...but more like," he considered, thinking back. "Both." It made sense to Arlo to think so, but in the end it was only conjecture. "I think so far as the fire is concerned, it's you. I don't smell smoke when there isn't any there, and don't see fire when there's none to be found. But i have to wonder if my dreams and your troubles are connected in some way." Or maybe it was a strange coincidence. Arlo wasn't convinced.

It might do some good to meditate, or pray, or ask their patron Immortals for input or help. But he was somewhat skeptical that it would yield many results. Even Cassion, who Arlo viewed as mostly outspoken and blunt, had his moments of secrecy and a way of saying...find out for yourself why don't you. "We can dreamwalk if you want to," he said, considering whether it might or might not work. "If you were there, maybe we could break something loose. Mostly though," he revealed, "it's about me knowing you've been lost or trapped somewhere, like in a cave or down a ravine, put there by some disaster or other, and no matter what I do, I can't get to you."

[Splinter]

MOD BOMB

It had started, just out of the corner of Vega's eyes, as a flicker.

"Certainly, you could pray, certainly, but I'd be more apt to agree, that you are attracting this."

The voice crackled like fire, and left the air hot, as the flicker grew into something more. This, though, was no mere vision. No phantom that plagued only her. Arlo too, saw it grow. Like a hot ember fanned by the wind growing into a full fledged fire, the flicker grew into him. He had many names, The Burning Man, The Eternal Flame, even Father. Faldrun, Fire-Heart, stood near enough the two that they could feel heat radiate from him. The Immortal's chest was bare, save for a bit of armour at his shoulders, and loose flowing crimson silken pants. The Eternal Flame smiled as he looked at the pair. The newly weds that had been plagued by so much fire. It turned his smile into an almost wicked, some would say delightful, grin.

Not that she knew it was he who plagued her visions. Those, wonderfully delicious visions of her husband burning, smelling the flesh and smoke, feeling the very heat as if they were as real as he was in that moment. Such joy he gained knowing she had no idea it was him, though it seemed almost ... an unfair thing to keep from her. After all, he enjoyed toying with her. With her, her family, her mother. All were just things to be used. Pawns in a most enjoyable and deadly game of chess.

"Tell me, Fire-Forged Rose," the words rolled off the Immortal's lips as he stepped closer, "how does it feel to be plagued by me?" His words oozed a sinister delight as he sneered, enjoying whatever reaction from the pair the revelation would bring. A laugh filled the air around the two as the Immortal, clearly pleased with himself, cackled. The laugh was short lived though as Faldrun's mood took on a more serious tone, "Don't worry, I won't have you guessing as to my sudden appearance." The Immortal walked, circling the pair as he considered each of them. The Cassion-born, strong, a master of the wilds. The Fire-Forged, stubborn and strong willed. Quite the pair the two made, and oh the wonderful situations they always found themselves in.

"I'd have sent a messenger ... but they lack a certain," he motioned with his hands, as if he was searching for the perfect word, "flair." The heat radiating off the Immortal grew more intense as he stepped closer, his voice lowering to a mere whisper, "I wanted to congratulate you two on your wedding. You Cassion-born, and you," he paused for the briefest of trills to reach over and stroke Vega's cheek softly, as the last words hung on his lips, "my daughter."

[Vega]

1st Cylus, 719

Both? Vega nodded as Arlo spoke and she couldn't argue with the reality of it. It was her ~ she knew it. That her hallucinating about fire and his dreams were connected, Vega didn't doubt. She knew, just looking at him, what he thought of her idea of asking the Immortals. With a slight grin she glanced up at him. "It's well irritatin' when you're right, you know." Sighing slightly, Vega's hand slipped into his. "We'll work it out, Arlo. We always do, aye?" Even if they had experienced frankly ridiculous amounts of trauma in the last... however long it had been. He told her what the dream was, then, and Vega's whole expression softened to one only Arlo ever really saw. Her hand lifted to his cheek and, as her thumb gently traced beneath his eye, she whispered to him. "You'll always be able to get to me, Arlo. 'Cos to you is where I'm runnin', see." She smiled and started to say something else, but then there was a flicker in the corner of her eyes.

And then, that flame which flickered in the corner of her eyes turned into a... person. An Immortal, she rather figured. Faldrun. The lord of fire, general and all around asshat who'd been irritating Rharne for seasons. Created the Aukari, or some such and had a real issue with everyone that wasn't him. That was the extent of Vega's knowledge but, as the ball of lead landed in her stomach, as she realised what he was going to say before he spoke. Somewhere, somehow, Vega's blood surged in recognition. Sounding in her ears, it began to rush and she felt everything start to constrict.

All the sounds stopped. She couldn't hear them, because all she could hear was her blood. Soaring in recognition, burning in disgust. At him. At her.

And there he stood.

Bastard

Vega dropped her hand from Arlo and turned to face him. She heard him, his voice soared through her blood, burning it. Changing it. Stripping away all the comfortable lies she had told herself all her life. She had never fitted in as a biqaj. Never. She had never been like them. Over the roaring of her blood, Eva Lei'nox knew why. So, she looked at him as he asked her how it felt to be plagued by him. When she spoke, her voice was low and shaking. "Pitiful. Obvious. Irritatin'." Looking at him, she did not drop her gaze. "Unimaginative. But there we go. Situation normal." Her eyes swirled a thousand colours, but the variety of them belied the simple feeling which built in her. He walked around them, he spoke, he pontificated.

And then, he reached out and stroked her cheek.

It was that which did it. That and the word which reverberated in her, rushing in her ears and killing her slowly. So, because she was ~ no matter what~ still her mother's daughter, Vega turned away from him in disgust. She couldn't hear. Couldn't see. Was incapable of feeling anything except fury.

... and Vega turned and punched her Immortal father full in the face. As she did, the mug which had held the hot chocolate fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces.

(but obviously, Faldrun, not Arlo... but that's the face she pulls)

[Splinter]

There was one thing to be said about Fire. It was unpredictable, and the Fire-Forged Rose did nothing but make her Immortal Father proud. Faldrun didn't flinch. He didn't even bother to stop the punch, which he could have done with ease. No. He let her hit him, let her feel that fury. That hot burning fury like a fire licking at anything in its path, hungrily consuming any rational thought. Once she withdrew her fist from his face he smirked.

"Now, my child. Is that any way to treat your father?" The Eternal Flame didn't move, he just stood, and looked at her. His eyes flickering like hungry flames as he admired the woman she'd become. Every bit his daughter. Faldrun also had to give credit to her husband. The Cassion-born didn't back down. No, he stood by her. Was it love? Or was it stupidity. It really didn't matter, either way, what his motivations were. The Immortal could easily dispatch them as if they were nothing more than mere flies. That, would be far too kind though.

The wind blew, the soft stench of burnt sulfur pervaded the air as the trio stood in silence for what felt like bits. The immortal contemplated the pair, and just how delighted he was with the situation. Any other mortal wouldn't have been given a chance to strike him, let alone walk away with their dignity still in tact. But her. She already knew the pains of death. She already knew what it felt like to burn alive. Arlo knew what it was like to watch all of that unfold as well. So much pain, already the two had experienced. Yet, there was still so much for her to learn.

"You will learn your place, child." The words were stern. Powerful. The Immortal moved. Far faster than either of them could see. He was there, in front of them one moment, and the next ...

The Eternal Flame's hand was on her shoulder. He was behind her. His words rang in her head, as a burning heat flared underneath his touch. "You are MY daughter. You will know your place." Underneath his hand, her skin burned. A fire burned under that touch. Intense and searing pain charred and blackened her flesh. Then, he wasn't there. At least, not close enough for either of them to reach him in that instant, and he laughed. A deep and haunting sound that filled the air and set the hair on the back of their necks on end. "You are feisty. Just like your mother was."

Vega would find that the spot on her shoulder that he'd touched left an imprint of his hand, blackened. A curse for her to bear. Along with the knowledge that his blood, his fire, his hate, coursed through her veins.

[Vega]

1st Cylus, 719

"Father?" Vega said, looking at him, unwavering. "Are you havin' a giraffe? Are ya? You're of no relevance to me, nor my Papa." Oh, by all the Immortals, her father. Her actual, biqaj, wonderful father. Her expression turned to a snarl. "You're nothin' compared to 'im, an' yer nothin' to me. Nothin' but a snarkle-assed crapwad what's a waste of the title." Vega was furious, shaking from head to toe and her eyes swirled with the emotions. He was her father. This Immortal, he was her father. He must have forced himself on her mother, she knew, and he stood there, the stench of burning in the air, the trembling turned to full on, visible, shaking. "Yer really not worth my time you tosser, feck off. I'm bored."

And Vega turned away from him.

Turning to Arlo, she spoke. "So, that's good. Turns out that Faldrun does 'ave a use. He's sperm. Who knew that there was some bit of 'im which wasn't jus' piss an' wind? Which means, all things considered, I'll live as long as you. An' hey, there I was worried about bein' jus' a mortal an' slowin' you down." Arlo, of course, knew her better than to think that she was as flippant as she sounded. But by all that she had, she sounded it. Because, in that moment, Vega was fury and pain and stubborn, stubborn determination. "An' since ole burnt-up-balls 'ere is so obvious, we can..."

And then, his hand was on her back and Vega screamed. It was base and guttural and filled with the pain and fury she felt. As his hand seared into her back, her scream sounded and she fell to one knee. Her head bowed under the pain of it and then, he spoke. Feisty, like her mother? Her mouth set into a line as her lips pursed together and Vega stood. The movement was slow and deliberate and the expression on her face was much as it had been the first time he'd forced her to move, alone, after her legs were shattered. Grim. Determined. Furious. As her top lip lifted into a snarl, she kept her gaze on Arlo. "Like I were saying," Famula's frilly knickers, but it burned. "We can jus' move on, cos he's not important. I know who my father is. It isn't him. It's my Papa. He raised me. An' he didn't raise anyone who gives in to this rubbish." Turning to look at her 'father', Vega's face was pale, with two bright spots of colour on her cheeks.

"Are you still 'ere? Haven't you got some meeting of 'self congratulatory asshats anonymous' to attend?" Shaking her head, Vega turned back to Arlo. "I need to get out of here. The stench is gettin' to me." Of course, that wasn't what was getting to her, not at all. But that she needed to leave? That was without doubt.

[Arlo Creede]

It was almost as if saying it out loud, or even thinking it; that it was her or both of them attracting the disasters and troubles that had plagued them since Scalvoris; and even more so that something or someone was meddling with them; had invoked something decidedly unpleasant. Turned out, that something objectionable would turn out to be Vega's father. As the flames that sprouted out of nowhere grew and took form, one that Arlo saw as clearly as Vega did; for all the good it would do him, Arlo dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword and stepped closer to her side.

Faldrun. Just as Arlo would have imagine he'd look and even behave. Full of spite, ego, cruelty...and generally full of hot air which was fitting. The son of Cassion had known intuitively that his own father disliked, even hated this fellow Immortal. And why wouldn't he? Arlo placed a hand gently at the small of Vega's back, hoping to soothe some of what she was feeling at that moment. If what the Immortal was saying was true, had Cassion known that Faldrun was Vega's father? Certainly if he had, he might not have said so. No question however that Faldrun knew about his own origins.

He couldn't have been prouder when Vega spoke up, stare for stare, unflinching even though he knew that there was much more underneath the bravado. And when she turned around, he could see the warning in her eyes. Funny, he realized she'd beat him to doing what he'd already been planning to on his own. His own hands had curled into fists, at the ready. Thanks to his father, he was stronger than the strongest of mortals by half. He might at least leave a dent before the Immortal of Fire reduced him to a pile of ashes. Arlo also realized that it was probably frowned on for a mortalborn to attack an Immortal, no matter how reprehensible they were. Cassion might not be pleased, but would probably forgive him.

But then Vega had beat him to it and his chest swelled with pride even while he moved closer to her in the wake of it, ready to step in if need be. But then Faldrun had moved faster than he ever could, and Vega was burned. He could only reach out and support her while Faldrun doubled down on his cruelty. "You're right," he whispered to Vega, holding her eyes with his. "You know who your father is, and it's not him," he said, glancing at Faldrun and Arlo resolved right then that, to hell with the rules, one trial he'd kill the Immortal for hurting her. Then turning back to Vega, he said, "Yours is the man who has loved and cared for you all his life. This one," he said, jerking a gesture in Faldrun's direction. "All hat, no cattle. You're nothing but a fraud."

Vega needed to go, and Arlo could only agree. There was nothing left to say, after all, so he gently wrapped his arm round her shoulder, careful to avoid the place where she'd been burned, and they'd leave their own camp behind until their uninvited and unwelcome guest had gone elsewhere.

[Vega]

1st Cylus, 719

Faldrun was of no consequence to her. He wasn't of interest and she didn't care, she didn't care. There were tears pouring down her face, but that was because of the pain she was feeling, not because she had any emotions about this. Her eyes locked with Arlo's as she stood, determined that she would stand and walk ~ on her own two feet ~ away from that useless bag of half-witted, hot tempered uselessness that was her father. It was only keeping her eyes on him which did anything for her, which allowed her to move. So, she kept her eyes on him. His arm moved around her and Vega shook her head, her jaw set. "Don't touch me. I can't.. if you touch me, Arlo, I can't." It was simple enough. His touch meant so much to her, filled her with emotion as she was, should he put his hands on her she would simply crumble where she was. And there was no way that Vega was going to do that. Not in front of him.

So, she walked with Arlo, her shoulder burning and her cheeks flushed red. Out of the camp, away from their things, not a one of which she cared about right now, Vega turned to him and her eyes were bright, dry of tears by the time they'd walked just a short while. "He can jog on, too." He knew her better than to think she was only angry, but angry was right there. "I mean, who does he think he is? He wants to .. an' he comes here... oh.. what am I gonna...." Between each phrase there was a pause, a gulp; she was on the verge of descending into the sort of emotions which Vega simply did not deal in.

"An' he can go an' douse himself in the cold an' wet water of his own intellect an' wit if he thinks he's got to me, too. I'm not tellin' my Papa, that overheated stick o' charcoal can jus' shove it so far up his nostril that it's smoulderin' where his brain should be. 'cos I.. I..." Looking around, not really entirely clear where they were, Vega moved and sat on a log. There, she sat and looked at him. "He's my father," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I knew it before he said it. Soon as I saw him." Sighing deeply, Vega looked at her hands. "A bit of me's always known. I'm not like them." Was she even a proper biqaj, she wondered. No, probably not. All things considered, probably not.

Vega let out a shaky out breath, her hand reaching out for his. "Arlo?" Her eyes were a hundred colours and, when they sought his, she looked lost. "I can't tell my Papa. It'd kill him. I feel really 'ot, too. Like. Way too hot. That snarkle-assed-weasle's done somethin' to me. My shoulder feels like a frypan in a furnace."

With a slight sigh, Vega closed her eyes and then, when she opened them, the colours had calmed. Not lessened in amount, but the level of crazed swirling had lessened. "Emotions. Rhythm... an' children." They were all softly spoken, but the last was near to whispered. "Those are my domains. I know them. Like I know my hands." Hands created by him, sired by his violence against her mother. At the same time, they were the same hands they'd always been.

"Right, well, we need to decide what we're doin' I guess." She was overheating, lifting her hand to her forehead, to wipe her hair, Vega could feel her skin burning. "I'm burnin' up, Arlo. What's he done to me?" Pulling her hair back from her face, her expression suddenly shifted into a genuine, if somewhat rueful, grin. "Felt good to punch him, though. Righ' in the kisser."