Log:Spur of the Moment

Spur of the Moment
Lights in the dark
Participants Jonah, Iris	March 18th, 2017 Iris and Jonah have a talk about engaging in the here and now.
Location Olympus Storefront
As it's getting on into the late evening, the shop is not occupied and due to close soon. No point to having any groups come by with it being St. Patrick's Day. So the reading room is dimmed, though not dark, and Iris is behind the front counter. She's in a kerchief dress tye-dyed in various -- muted, thankfully -- shades of green. Her hair is back in a gray band, keeping the curls mostly -- or barely -- under control. She's sorting through receipts and such from the day, making notes in a ledger. Late at night? Unfortunate timing? Those are perfect for Jonah whose arrival is signaled by the bright light of his Mantle. It doesn't help matters that once the door is opened he has to duck through to get in, and the closer he gets to the register that aura of low only grows brighter and more twisted. "Iris," he calls out to her, and likely a bit too loudly for how quiet things are. From the look of him he's in full St. Patty's Day attire with a green shirt, jeans dyed green, and a pair of likely custom green and white sneakers. And those prisms around the place? Quite likely reflect and refract his light even more. More rainbows. Because of course. Even if they have an excuse to be here, it's not like she had to hang them up... but Iris did, didn't she? Goddess of Rainbows. They're representations of her self. Symbolism, much as a Celtic deity may have a form of triskelion or Christ with his cross. She knows, just from the way the light warps, to guess who it is and the voice only confirms it. Her shoulders tighten, as if bracing for a blow, and she finishes what she's writing before looking up at the ogre. "Jonah." Jonah doesn't appear too averse to the many lights that shine through, and for a brief moment appears to simply bask in the very literal glow surrounding him. Expected Sun behavior aside, he finally responds to Iris. "There was something I wanted to show you, Ms. Rainbow. It won't even take up all your time, but you might wanna lock up first." His last comes with a thumb jammed in the direction of the door. And not a bad glow for being as late as it is. Mortals won't have a fucking clue, but any Lost or those able to see beyond the Mask, well. They might wonder why the shop has a beacon within. Iris blinks a few times, perhaps a touch thrown off guard. Maybe having expected a very different reaction from him. She finally nods, "I was about to close up anyway." There's a moment of putting the ledger and receipts away below the counter before she moves around, winding past him and some shelves to flip the sign to 'Closed' and lock the door. Jonah stands there, hands behind his back as he follows her movements with his gaze. Once that bit of an act is done he lifts a hand to his horns, and nicks the middle of his palm good enough that blood's spilling out. That's a second time he's spilled blood upon her floor. As it drips he's quick to hold up the other hand, "Don't worry. I'll clean it up this time." In her hollow, the blood is bad because it can draw the attention of bad things in the hedge. In here it's bad because that's extra cleaning she may have to do before she closes up. The woman looks slightly pained, but just stops and watches. Some of the light in the shop disappears as the timer the growing lights over the herbs clicks over and their lights go off. "I appreciate that." Iris' pained expression earns a frown from the Ogre. "Trust me." When it looks like there's enough - because you never know when enough bloodletting is enough, he turns his palm rightside up. Just above that blood hand something begins to form, taking shape and forced into a more solid existence. The spirit, a small thing that fits into the palm of Jonah's hand. However, the ball of pulsing light simply floats and flutters about there, seemingly happy to be bathed in such odd radiance. Uh-huh. Trust the man who, well, did what he did to her. Iris' arms fold across her chest and there's a sort of skeptical look on her face at he blood that he's spilled. Then there's the ball of light and she just blinks a few times. Maybe trying to understand it. Curiously does eventually get the better of her and she takes a slow breath, asking: "What is it?" Jonah look largely upon that ephemeral thing before answering, and then he asks the spirit himself. "What are you?" The spirit responds in a voice that's as bright and cheery as the refracted brilliance of the room. "I am a spirit." As the question is answered bit of Jonah's blood instantaneously dries up, and dissapates into fading smoke. Well that answers that. Mostly. Iris blinks a few times, her surprise easing up a bit of her tension. "I... uhm..." She frowns a bit as she tries to think of what to say. But finally, she gives up and shakes her head, looking up to the tall-ass Jonah. "Why show this to me? I don't understand." "I do not know," it answers to Iris. This nets a frown from Jonah as he stares at her. He points to the blood that had dripped to the carpet, and then to his hand. "Wrong question. Don't ask me anything. Because this isn't it." There's a look from Jonah, to the spirit, then back. Iris is at a bit of a loss here. She takes a slow breath and looks to the spirit. Her mouth opens, closes, and she thinks for a time. The colors sliding over her skin slow, too. The hues themselves don't change much, but it's as if a lot of the Airtouched had slowed even as she ponders. "What is your purpose?" The spirit may lack anything close to a face, but it does have some manner of life. Each time Iris' colors change it too changes its hue. For a moment it looks like a light show that doesn't do much to brighten the Ogre's disposition. "To shine where there is no light." Jonah's lips remain sealed for the time being, gaze locked on Iris'. While Iris is aware that Jonah's blood acts as sort of a window, she doesn't really seem to know exactly what to do. There's a hint of strain in her features, even if she does appreciate the colors the spirit turns. How could she not? "What is your name? If you have one, that is." "That Which Shines," it answers next, color only growing brighter. Now Jonah intercedes, and opens his fanged maw to add. "It lives here. This shop, and thanks to all of this." He then motions to the various structures of glass that change and adjust every bit of light that comes through them. "You helped make this," despite how positive that may sound, he appears as stoic as ever. "Oh." Iris is a bit taken back by this, but not in a bad way. She stands up a bit straighter, blinking a few times at spirit and ogre both. "Well, uh. I'm flattered. It's an honor. Is there... anything I can or should do to... some spirits like things, like certain flowers. Is there anything you'd like?" The spirit remains silent for a beat, but doesn't take long to find an answer. "The Light. The Light fights The Darkness, and The Word rejoices." To that Jonah simply shrugs, and adds no input of his own. He then lift ups a single finger as the only few droplets of blood remain, alluding to what remains of Iris' query. Biting at her lip, Iris considers for a time. "Well... thank you. I think." She takes in a breath. "I'll endeavor to keep light here." For the final query, after a long period of quiet, all she can summon is: "What is The Word? So I can be mindful of it." Especially if it is doing any rejoicing. Her final question givest he spirit some measure of pause due to a lack of arms, fingers, or anything else to point. However, it comes to something of a conclusion, and several beams of light leave its body. Each shaft of light a different color leads to each and every book upon the shelf along with several pointed towards those divining tools. With that answered the light fades, and it explodes in a cloud of dancing lights and ephemera that soon turn into nothingness. There's no way she can watch all the beams of light at once. But Iris does track a good number of them. The books, the tools. When it dissipates, she takes in a breath. There's a long look for Jonah. "How did I help make that?" Jonah looks over the still open wound, and clasps his hands together to mitigate any further spilling of blood. "Same way we do anything as god. Our very presence, our daily actions, and who we are shape the world around us. However, it gets stronger for folks like us because we don't simply go about or live completely normal lives." Says the man that delivers newspapers by way of sweeping fog. "Do you want something for that?" Iris nods to his hand. She expects what the answer will be, but she's also not able to help herself. Moving back to the counter, she curls her hands against it and hoists herself up to sit. "I've never had a spirit manifest, but-" she squints at his hand. "That part is your doing. Is that why you came by?" Jonah looks at his hand for a brief moment, and responds with an expected shake of his head. "It isn't too bad. Just gotta not use it for a while, and it'll be right by morning." And hey, he's not dripping blood on the floor this time. He does narrow his gaze as cogs begin moving towards something else. "You've never seen them before, though? Really?" Iris shakes her had in answer, watching Jonah fairly intently. "I haven't, no. Not... I mean, spirit-like things over there," the Hedge, "but not out here, in the mortal world. Sensed them, but that's the first..." She frowns a bit. "Is that wrong?" Jonah lets go of that bleeding palm to tap at his temple with the uninjured hand, and in the act leaves a bloody finger print there. "I've been able to see them sense I found myself. Some of them are here, but invisible. Sight unseen unless someone makes them see. Then there's what you can see past this world, and things truly become obvious. That small sliver of a crack in reality." Swinging her legs against the counter, Iris lets the tap-tap-tap of her heels against the wood fill the silence as she thinks. She looks to the floor, exhaling slowly. "Well, might be a... you thing, that." She glances back up at Jonah and grimaces, slightly. "Sorry, I just keep expecting..." but she doesn't complete the thought. She just looks away. She //should// be reveling in the lack of, well, potential harm directed her way. "A me thing?" The question surprises him more than it likely should, but far be it for a Sun courtier to not be self-absorbed. "Expecting what? That they're going to eat you? They could, yes. Some could, but most don't care to. Think of it as you not striking a mortal down with lightning when you have your own life to eek out." "Yes, a you can see spirits and maybe others can, but not all of us." Iris frowns at the latter, shaking her head. She sighs, pushing off the counter to land lightly on the floor. She starts checking over other things around the shop. Likely back to her closing-up routine. "No, not from the spirit. You. This is... well. The nicest you've ever been." "Because I'm neither nice nor mean," Jonah answers with a dissatisfied grunt. "I'm me. I'm me. You're you." He shakes his head, and begins rubbing at the base of his horns with his bloodied hand. It looks like he's used to just faffing about while bleeding. "You do make me, angry," he admits, "but you're also one of the few people /like/ me." Not much tending to things to do and she's not about to begin sweeping while she has a guest. Even if he did show up around closing time. "It's not purposeful. I don't like making people angry." Summer, she is not. "I'm just me, as you said." This earns Iris another frown along with a grunt. "Whatever. You know your Greek. Gods argue. Gods fight. Luckily, you don't know my attendants, or I'd have to worry about more than just speaking to istalah." He lowers his hand to reveal the crimson print upon his forehead, and moves to stand alongside her at the counter. "I don't think you'll ever see things properly, but that might just be because you're too short." "Usually it's the men, arguing and fighting over women. Or the women fussing at their man for the same." Iris can't help but smirk slightly. "I think I may have had a man, briefly. Though I... don't much remember." Shrug. "Really, with Aphrodite around, who cared?" If she's bothered by her overall lack of romantic partners, she doesn't show it. There is a glance to him and she blinks. "Was that a joke?" "Joke?" he asks as seriously as ever. "What joke? You're short. A wee thing I could lift up with one hand." He shrugs. "Medawisla, I imagine you have as many admirers as there are colors in the rainbow. What does that matter, though?" "And you're talking about seeing things that, I doubt, are only visible from a certain height." Iris seems a touch amused, but she finishes getting things put up and away. She just stops, leaning one hand on the counter itself. "I'm not sure," she admits at last. "It just came to mind. A memory. I like to... hold onto them when they do." "Memories are best left forgotten," he responds. His gaze goes to the door, attention passing over to something else. "Why this shop? I thought you were messages and rainbows. Isn't all of this somebody else's thing?" The question sounds genuine, but he doesn't sound as interested or insane with his usual questioning of the rainbow. "I always feel like I've forgotten something important. And I hope I find it someday." Iris frowns slightly, but follows his gaze towards the door, briefly. She steps back from the counter and over to the freezers that hold little, hand-labeled pints of ice cream. "So much of humanity has moved on to new gods. Technological ones. They handle the messaging now." Phones. Computers. "But there's still those who seek more-" she's grabbing a couple bottles of soda from the 'fridge and offers one out to Jonah. Glass. Some local company. Her eyes go to the books and divining tools. "...traditional methods of communication. In this place, I can connect with them." It takes a few moments for it all to sink it, but when it does he keeps gaze forward in shame. "I see. The fish was wrong, and the hawk was right." He scratches at his cheek while still mulling things over, and takes the offered soda. "You don't just-" He stops again. "No, you don't. I'm fortunate that the world is growing. They're always learning. Wanting to know more. They need to see. To understand. This isn't all their is. Normal can't be the only thing in the world. They usually can't handle it all, but a crack is all they need." "For you it might be easier," Iris offers, shoulders rising and falling. "I always have my places. Usually with children. Those who can appreciate the beauty of a rainbow. Pass messages in school to one another. It's when they get older and... magic leaves them." She glances towards the reading room. "The people I meet here, they still see magic in everyday life. They haven't lost that hope that there is more than banal everyday life." "That's your thing, isn't?" The question comes with one of the few genuine smiles that'll ever come from the Ogre. "All that hope. I don't get it, but I'm not supposed to." He shrugs. "I can't get it despite how much I try to see it." The empahsis comes with a growl, and a slow shake of his head. "Well," Iris says, opening her own soda with a handy opener near the register. Not that Jonah likely needs such, himself. "There's a reason they decided, in that flower language of theirs," oh, Victorians, "that Iris stand for hope, isn't there? Rainbows are just full of it, too. All that... potential. Like a big beacon to say here, it just rained, and new things will grow." "Well, I don't get it," says the grey one with a shrug. "After that last talk I even went to a spirit like you. It made sense." Double speak of spirits aside. "I can understand what it was. What it wanted. Why it existed. It all added up. With you it's just-" He shakes his head, and after a sigh says, "It's like one plus one equals fourty-seven." "A spirit like me?" Iris tilts her head slightly, clearly curious. "If it made sense, why don't I? Is it because I see that potential... or something else?" "What part of forty-seven don't you get, Meda?" He looks off to the side, head shaking in mild disbelief. "You are confounding, and make no sense. Even when I read you, you make no sense. It should be something amazing, but all it does is make wonder why. I don't like 'why' anymore." "Maybe stop... reading me?" Iris frowns a bit, lifting her soda for another sip. "Or is this part of your... need to know? Isn't sometimes just experiencing something part of the knowing?" For a moment he actually looks offended. "What? Why? When you can see things in the past or future why the present?" He looks upon her in disbelief, eyes wide. "Would you give up all your hoping? What could the present teach that the other cracks can't?" And in turn, Iris just stares at him for a moment. "Because the present is now. It's not something that already happened or that might happen. It's the... right here. Whether it's pain or happiness or... emotions don't matter except when they're actively being felt. Even your... your anger is something in the moment. Doesn't it ever teach you something about yourself?" "You're doing it again," he growls. "Because being caught in the heat of the moment tears. It distorts and fractures no different than a prism before a light. I can examine it later, look back upon it when properly looking. It's not perfect, never is, but why the present? What good could come of the spur of the moment?" There's a hint of a smile there, but Iris just moves to haul herself up onto the counter. Next to him, and it still doesn't really help the height. "See, this is where I'm supposed to do something to show you what good can come of the spur of the moment. But you're too tall, it'd ruin the whole effect." The smile only earns another growl of anger from the Ogre, and a slow shake of his head. "What? To cut me with the air? You wouldn't be the first to try something like that, honestly, and I'll even make it easy for you." He sets the still unopened soda upon the counter, and turns to face her fully. He leans down, head just a few inches from her. "Go ahead, and get it outta your system now. If I'm right, you're right-handed." "You have a lot to learn if you think that all that can happen in the spur of the moment involves hurting someone else. I much prefer things that don't involve pain." Iris watches him as he sets the soda aside and leans down. She is right-handed, yes, but she's also holding a soda. That hand doesn't move. Instead, she herself does. The Airtouched leans in to kiss him. It's a very quick thing and no hands are involved- mostly, because for all she's trying to make a point... she is a bit afraid of his reaction. Fear is an appropriate reaction when surprising an Ogre. Jonah ducks back immediately after the kiss. He shakes his head a few times, gaze going between something off in a corner and then back to Iris. "What!?" A hand goes to his head as he stares right at the other Ancient, mouth closing and opening intermittently as he tries to find something. "Medawisla!" Well, she didn't get hit or anything, so Iris can grin. Perfect example of potential, in her reckoning. She lifts her soda for a drink, legs swinging. More tapping of heels against the counter. "You asked what good can come of spur of the moment." He's still staring a hole into her, and trying to process a surprise Jonah couldn't have foreseen. He then starts marching forward, each foot landing with a heavy thud. He doesn't come for a stop until he's in the same position as before. He plants both hands on the counter, although there's more than enough time to stop him. "Why?" he asks her, eyes locked right on hers. She doesn't stop him. Maybe Iris is trying to trust him. Maybe she's just hoping not pushing too hard at the moment will avoid tipping the anger over too far. "Why did you come here tonight?" Her feet have stopped swinging, but she takes another small sip of her soda. Trying to appear calm. Jonah's as inscrutible as ever save his evergrowing confusion. "Why?" he echoes back to Iris. "Because I saw myself coming here, but under different different pretenses. Four to be exact." He shakes his head then, "None of them led to that. Not a one. I even saw you trying to cut off one my horns before I tried to remove your arm." Beat. "Unless the rat was wrong, but she's rarely wrong." Except for this time of course. "So you came here because you saw yourself coming here?" Iris frowns at him, studying him. Actually meeting his eyes. Not something she does terribly often. Her own change colors. Much slower than her skin or hair, at least. Just a slow glide through the spectrum. "You felt nothing in it? No... desire to see me, to talk to me? Everyone feels. Even us. Maybe you just don't acknowledge it?" Jonah grunts, gaze going past Iris for a beat. When he looks back to her it's still a slow process for him to speak. "You are a god as am I, Meda. There was an obvious desire to come here, but, no, I don't know why. I will likely realize it later. What I feel now is irrelevant." "I don't understand," Iris responds, brow furrowing. Almost in concern. She does lift her hand this time, but it's slow. Slow enough to make it clear she doesn't intend to hurt him. But she does reach to touch one of those horns. "How can you want to know everything, but so easily disregard your own feelings in the moment? They are part of everything." Jonah's reaction mirrors that of Iris until the hand goes up to his horns. Those jagged and hooked spikes are as deadly as they appear when touching the points, but when he feels her touch against them he goes rigid. "Because that's who I am. I can understand my past. I can read some of my future. I don't get much of my present without time to examine it. Think about it. Compare it to what I saw before attempting to enact or defy it." "You miss a lot that way." Iris is careful, removing her eyes from his to look up to her hand instead. Making sure she doesn't cut herself, likely. "That's why you don't understand me. I go with the flow. I take in and react to things as they happen. Like you asking what good can happen. A show of affection is a good thing and it usually comes in the spur of the moment." His jaw clenches as her words come, and they likely cut at his pride more than any blade has. "The last time I did something in the spur of the moment I was throwing trees at your temple. I was angry. Hurt. I lashed out. I wanted revenge. I wanted to hurt you, but not hurt hurt you you." That final bit comes with a teasing poke at her shoulder although he's not one for a light touch. "Gods shouldn't kill one another. They should best and destroy the works and wills of Titans. That's from yours, right?" She draws back her hand, but doesn't lean away. Well, except when he pokes her in the shoulder. "It is. The Titans are fascinating beings, but... volatile." Iris does smile, bringing her gaze back to the ogre. "And? Outcome aside. How did you feel, in that moment? How did it feel to give in to that anger?" "How did I feel? I was happy. I was angry. After the fact I was shamed. I was angrier. Then you were scared, and it just made it worse." It sounds like he has no problem admitting things of the past, but the present appears to be another matter. "So when I went home I broke a few chairs and destroyed my refrigerator." "I see." Iris takes this in, watching him. "Why did my being scared make it worse? Wasn't that what you wanted? To hurt me, in some fashion?" She finishes her soda and sets the bottle off to the side, leaning past one of his arms. "You can feel good things in the heat of the moment, too, you know. Happiness. Excitement. Or, I don't know... pleasure at a job well done. Surely you've felt those before." "Yes, I have. I have often felt happiness, Meda." Despite the stoic rock wall he's putting up it seems. "I wanted to hurt you, but not hurt you." He takes a few deep breaths to collect his thoughts, and closes his eyes when recalling himself. "So what I used to do crept in. I acted without thinking. Caught up in the moment. It went past breaking the mind to breaking the spirit. You passed out. I was concerned. I was scared." "It was terrifying," Iris admits, quietly. "And I'd hope you won't do it again, but..." She exhales slowly, pondering. Perhaps how far //she// can push. "You were concerned. That surprises me, still. I thought you hated me. Why would you be concerned about me?" "You belong to Fate's Harvest. That's the easy part. You're a god. That's the hard part. I don't get you. That's the painful part." A shake of his head follows. "Can't just leave you out there. Can't just leave you without knowing the truth." "Jonah..." Iris lets out a slow sort of sigh. "I don't know my truth. I don't know everything about my past or what happened to me. You can't expect to know my truth. You need to accept that." His eyes slowly open, gaze still stuck on hers. "That's my problem, and I see no end to it. I don't know your past, but I can't read your future. It's not uncertainty. There are things there, but so many variables." He then leans closer to her. "How do I feel in the present? You're aggrivating, appealing, exciting, confusing, astonishing breathtaking, and it all ends one way. It makes no sense. A blind spot. I feel like a moth staring at a fire, and waiting for the moon to right my path." With nowhere else to put her hands, Iris rests each one against his arms. She keeps her movements slow; perhaps that bit about him seeing her trying to remove his horn has stuck in her head. "And what way does it end?" She does manage a slight smile, as well. "Why would you be waiting for the moon? You're a Sun. Don't wait for something to guide you. Make the decision yourself." Jonah's attention rests upon one of her hands, and then move back to Iris. "Because the moth guided by the flame is doomed to death," he admits drly. "The moon is as sacred as the sun, but that's the macrocosm. The Sun and Moon in the microcosm is the Sun I belong to. If I make the decision without weighing the odds, or even my heart against a feather, what happens then?" "You're a god, but you're afraid of death?" Iris smiles, but it's a faint thing. "You have to take things into your own hands sometimes. You can't just pick and choose whatever potential outcome you think is best. If you can't see it... inaction won't help. Sometimes you just have to... do it. Whether it's going into the flame or not-" she taps at his arm with a couple fingers. "You seem like you could withstand the fire anyway." Jonah goes flat, and for once he has to speak plainly. "It's a metaphor. Going in blind leads to doom, and doom isn't always death. There are many fates worse than death, and I've inflicted them before and after." He shakes his head, and then stands back to his full height. "What about you, Meda? Where do you stand in all this?" "It doesn't always lead to doom. Humanity does it with every step and many of them find and do glorious things." Iris looks a touch disappointed as he stands, her hands sliding away to land in her lap. "In all of what? If you mean in all of your future and past, I don't know. I try not to plan for the future. Too much risk of disappointment." Jonah doesn't say much to that. He looks like he's about to jump up on that display case, but after a few moments of thought he shakes his head. Instead, he goes to grab one of the chairs he's already tested out during the Harvestmen's shindig, and pulls it up in front of Iris. "Then another spur of the moment thing. When you kissed me it felt good even if it was just a second. It was- is confusing. It's still confusing. I still don't know what to think." Iris watches him. At least from her perch and him in a chair, well, it puts them on a more even keel. "It was supposed to feel good," she points out, smiling. "That's sort of the point of kissing someone." She glances to his unopened soda on the counter. Maybe considering it for herself. Maybe wanting the distraction. "Did you like it? Is that why it's confusing?" For once Jonah damned near eye to eye with another person, and the situation is clearly a strange one for him. "Yes, it was good. I want to do it again, but I don't know where it leads. That's new. Strange. Different." He reaches out for her hand, but if she pulls back he places it in his lap. "It frightens me, and excites me at the same time." Beat. "Just like you." She does not pull back. Iris allows him to take her hand and she answers, initially, with a smile. "You can kiss me, if you want." She tilts her head slightly. "Strange and different isn't bad. Isn't something just... strange until you experience and understand it?" She can't really fully hold his hand, bigger than hers as it is. But she will grasp it as she can. "You've never struck me as someone who would hide from something that frightens him. And certainly not from something exciting." His eyes remain on her as he stands back up once more, and returns near her once more. "It's not just that, Meda. /You/ frighten me, Medawisla. You see things I don't. I can't understand it, and it makes no sense. Aze is as bad, but she tricks and deceives. It's in her nature. You don't. Your nature is foreign, and unknowable by me. I want to understand your divinity as much as I want to understand you." He then leans in for a kiss of his own, mantle flaring brightly in the act. "I don't want to frighten you," Iris admits quietly. There may have been more, but he's kissing her and she won't interrupt that. Instead, she'll lift a hand to place against the side of his neck. Her touch is light, but meant to be encouraging. She meets the kiss, lips soft and welcoming. He still keeps her hand in his, and the other reaches for her back while their lips meat. This time when he pulls back it's slowly, and with a measured look upon Iris. "Are you sure you're for this? Things won't be all sunshine and rainbows, and I can't promise to be some knight in shining armor." She takes in a slow breath, watching him. Iris is quiet for a moment, tracing fingertips lightly against the side of his neck. "I can't answer that for sure yet. This is new." She tilts her head slightly, watching him. "I like new, but I also don't think that I can... devote myself to a single person." Her brow furrows, lips pressed into a bit of a line. "I wouldn't ask anyone to do the same, but I know... some do. If that's you, I... I understand, but then I can't. I'd want you to be free to enjoy those moments you feel guided to someone else just as I would." To her, it probably feels akin to killing a source of potential. Jonah shrugs in turn, visage as unsure as ever. "I don't really know. You're the first of our kind I've ever considered. Flings I'm used to. Devotion is something I haven't rightly done. Double if handcuffs are involved." He winces, but is quick to bury that memory deep. "So long as I never see you on the arm of a snow bird it's something I can accept." There's a slight shudder at the mention of handcuffs. Lost and being restrained? Not really a fun thing for any of them. Iris brushes her fingers against his neck. "No, you wouldn't have to see me on someone's arm. But you'd just have to know there may be others. And the same for you. I wouldn't want to see it, but you're free to have flings or... whatever. Those aren't mine to dictate." She leans up, to try to kiss him again. A brief one, but firm. "But gods should have each other." He tilts his head when she shudders, and then he's quick to shake his head. "Oh it's not like that. She thought it'd be exciting, and broke both of my wrists. Ogres tend to be-" He stops, shaking his head again. "Actually never mind. Trust me, you won't see me with another, Meda." He then leans forward, and plants a brief kiss upon her forehead. "I promise." "Well, I prefer not to be restrained." Between that deep abiding fear they have of such and her own sense of freedom? Probably wholly anathema to Iris. She lifts her chin slightly at the kiss to her forehead, smiling in return. "This is a much better outcome than fighting." There's a pause, brow furrowing slightly. "Well, maybe not for an ogre. Maybe you like it. I prefer it without blood all over my floors, to be honest." Jonah lifts a fist up, shaking it in mock protest, but drops it just as quickly. "Then I'm gonna give you some advice now. Don't grab the horns. Even if it seems like a good idea, don't. It's one of those things you can't really explain easily." He shrugs, "But it's not as if you can't hurt me, Meda. I think we know how that'd go." There's a glance up to the horns, then back to Jonah. "I don't think I'd grab them anyway. Fairly sure I'd cut myself and there go the floors." Iris does smile, but the expression shifts slightly. "We do. And I don't want to hurt you. Pain isn't a..." She bites her lip a bit as she thinks. "it's just not the sort of thing I want to be leading to." Jonah doesn't look the slightest bit ashamed when he admits, "That's probably for the best. Things tend to escalate, and I end up having to get sick for a few days while I wait for something to heal." He then brings both hands to her shoulders, and leaving those weights there. "If it does come to it, you can just throw a tree at me in payback." "There's always fruits," Iris offers, looking up at him as he places his hands on her shoulders. The mention of trees earns a laugh. At least things don't linger long, with her. The negative, she prefers to let go of once it's past. Ah, Dawn. "I'm not so much for the trees. The earth and I aren't all that friendly. Air, water, light... Those are my people." "She wasn't much for fruits-" He shakes his head. "Yeah, not going down that road again. As for those elements, I'll make sure to not drown the temple too." He then admits after a brief bit of worry. "I did think about that at one point, but I realized I couldn't dig fast enough to reroute the river." At least he can get any of the shameful thoughts out of his system. "Might be hard to drown the temple," Iris points out, smiling up at him. If his talking about past flings bothers her? Not a hint of it in her expression. "Water just sort of flows off of it. Might confuse people down below, but... it's the hedge. It's confusing."