It's a feeling we always chase

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Soft lavender eyes flitted to his face, a little startled to hear he had wanted to keep track of her like that. Through Peter? It was strange to think she might have been spied on by one of her closest friends, had things gone different. Would she have been told who Peter was? Or kept at a distance, to preserve as many secrets as possible?

"I see..." They would never be there now. Getting upset about it felt very pointless too, and she merely nodded, gaze falling under the weight of regret. All those 'could have been's...

He revealed who had the other piece of the parchment, and Maea cleared her throat delicately. "Ah. That... I suppose it explains why you've not simply stolen it." She wasn't sure why, though. Lingering sentiment? Some kind of respect, or just lack of desire to stir up trouble? But he could have sent one of his guild members to do it, so...

Her thoughts trickled to a slow halt when she became aware of his gaze. Maea looked back, a half question in her eyes, wondering what passed through his mind. Standing there was becoming too difficult; she eased away from the table and headed for the stove, to stir the pot and keep the contents from burning.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

Exactly the reaction he expects. That Phoebe has it, the slight shift of attention, the way he isn’t too sure what to do about with it either. So many things he wants from that clinic, and yet he can’t quite delve into the Grounds long enough to try it — not quite ready to face any of that sort of music.

So she turns from him and the absence of her feels huge, and so he turns once more to go and sit back on the barstool for the table, creating more of that distance, to clear his tired mind — unsure what to say or do. Why was it so awkward all of a sudden? Why was it so… Tense? He craves a drink or a smoke, something to take the edge off, yet all he does for the moment is remain in place.

Until he becomes too fidgety, and the brief sight of feathers pressing up beneath his shirt along his shoulders takes root and he focuses on Haai. Anxious, despite not quite knowing why. “Do you want more water?” He asks her quietly, raising himself when he can’t quite stay in place for much longer — grabbing bowls and utensils to set aside for the food and a separate glass and a bottle of whiskey. His back is turned toward her while he does it, pouring about half the glass before awaiting her response.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

It had not been a question meant for answers, yet the silence that followed was unexpected as it was heavy. For a while now, things had felt almost normal. At least less awkward, less tense, while their voices filled the empty air between them. But once the echo died and only the sound of crackling fire and the scrape of a ladle against the bottom of the kettle remained... it became a physical thing.

Sunjata began to set the table, rummaging around the kitchen. It should have been a homely sight, something to make her smile and fill her chest with warmth... but Maea couldn't bring herself to turn and look at him at all. It hurt too much. Made her hands feel too empty, lacking him.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, when he asked if she wanted more water. But what he poured, the sound of the bottle and the swill of liquid... "That does not smell like water though," she commented, voice dry. Amused, and a little... what? "You offer water to your guests and pour whiskey for yourself?" Again, that tone of amusement. Mock outrage, as if she couldn't believe his lack of manners.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

Her answer gives him something to do, and so he takes her glass and fills it with water while her other words reach his ears and he snorts. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to drink.” He hums with a small amount of amusement, reaching for another glass and pouring her some of the whiskey as well — before turning to hand her both glasses. And once she’s grabbed them he reaches for his own, needing to quell the tightness within his chest, within his stomach.

He downs nearly half of the glass he’s poured, setting the glass on the top of the table as he swallows down against the incessant burning in his throat. “It’s my favorite, so it's a bit rough.” He tells her, steel gaze lifting to scan her face, his voice a bit hoarse from the intensity of the burn.

But the quirk to the corner of his lips seems to suggest its gentle teasing, or perhaps a playful warning.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

"Just not sure it's a good idea," came the quite reply. But Maea turned and accepted both the glasses anyway, and watched with a raised brow as he downed half his glass in one go. That looked like the kind of bracing you did before diving into a conversation that terrified you... and it put her nerves a little more on edge.

"Duly noted," she said, taking the warning quite seriously. Her own sip was very careful, very moderate... the liquor burned like fire down her throat, and left behind a very familiar taste. Of smoke and drink, of a hundred mingling flavors underlined by clear fresh water. She didn't cough, or choke on it... but her voice was quite hoarse too when the long silence finally broke.

"I see... what you meant..." A smile played on her lips. A glimmerof light in her eyes as she raised the glass to him in salute before taking a second sip. "It's good."

Another stir of the ladle, while smoke swirled through her senses, and a taste of the stew... then Maea brought the kettle from it's hook over the fire, and moved it to the table. "Done," she declared. "Won't get better than this. Let's eat?"

Sitting down, with both glasses to accompany the plate, she reached for Sunjata's to start serving. The first meal she had ever made him, in a kitchen that was almost theirs... It was an almost dream come almost true.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

Her comment of whether or not it’s a good idea is met with a small half shrug to that. “I’ve been in the business of making ‘not good ideas’ for a while now.” He offers her quietly, watching as she takes a small sip. And when she goes for the second, raising the glass in a small toast, he follows suit before taking a smaller sip and pushing off the edge of the counter he leaned against to head back toward the table with the rest of the bottle of the whiskey.

“It is.” He agrees softly, smiling lightly to her as he settles back into his seat and she goes to pull the food from the fire, turning back toward him and reaching for his bowl. “It smells good.” He offers her when the lid is removed and the smell becomes stronger, his stomach growling in anticipation as with the roiling burn of the alcohol within.

He hands her his bowl, waiting while she fills it before filling her own — waiting until she has hers completed before picking up the fork and looking down toward the bowl. “Thank you.” He thanks her quietly, the gratitude lingering within his voice. He waits for her to take the first bite before he follows.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

She could only nod at that, in quiet agreement. Not only for his part but her own as well. At least this time they had food to round out the alcohol with, and no bottle each of wine to devour. And all the cutting words had been delivered already, right? Only thing left to set their teeth to was the food.

Maea filled their plates, bowed her head in quiet thanks, and took a bite when she realized he was waiting for her to start. The stew was simple, plain and nothing remarkable, but it seemed the quality of the ingredients were far superior here compared to the Grounds. What would have been barely passable there had somehow become actually good here... and surprise was written plain on the girl's face as she took another bite. Eyes turning to her host, to see his reaction.

"For my cooking, it's a bit of a miracle," she mumbled.

And it hit her then. Like a quiet wave of light, rising up from within. Ah, they were together again. Actually there, in the same room, by the same table. Sharing a meal, struggling to make conversation in the wake of their first real fight... trying to define what this new space was. But still together.

"Thank you, for letting me come here tonight," she said, that quiet warmth lacing through her voice. "It means... a lot." Everything, actually. Like they were still trying.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

He waits for her to dig in first, and when she does he follows suit. And honestly? It is pretty good. He’s not hard to please, really, having spent most of his time if he was too tired to cook as one of his shifts, hunting something down and devouring it that way. It was just easier that way. And with the iron stomach he’d gathered from the resistance, he could nearly eat anything nowadays.

Still, it surprises him because she’d mentioned how terrible of a cook she was when this was actually pretty good. And he can see the light dance in her eyes as he fiddles with the fork briefly, swallowing down his bite with a small hum of a laugh leaving his throat. “I’m wondering if you were just trying to keep my expectations low to surprise me.” He offers with a slightly crooked smile. “It is good, Maea.” He adds, pausing to take another sip of the whiskey.

His gaze finds her face again, fork stilling at her quiet admission, and he nods quietly — looking back down into the bowl and fishing for the meat. “Of course. I told you that you were welcome anytime. I mean that.” He takes a bite, contemplating the comment before he swallows it down and looks back up to her. “I’m glad you came, though.” He says softly, granting her a small smile at that.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

She shook her head, flushed at the praise, at hearing him say her name - it brought all the butterflies back to life. "Believe me, I was not exaggerating," she insisted. "But you know what the food in the Grounds is like... if we stay there some time I can show you what I meant." It came out as half a threat, humor dancing like laughter in her voice. "Thank you though. I'm glad you like it." Her gratitude was genuine, pleased that she could do something for him. Even a simple thing like a meal in the middle of the night, after a rough, too long day.

With the standing invitation to come back, to visit... It began to feel almost too good again. Maea found that she swallowed back tears along with the food, like the whiskey and Sunjata's smiles had finally undone that lump in her throat.

"Me too," she said softly. Smiling into the bowl. Carefully not looking at the gouges carved into the table surface.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

A quieter chuckle leaves him as she comments about the Grounds, a rise and fall of his shoulders in response to it. “I’ll take your word for it.” He teases her gently, smirking slightly at the thought of it. But her thank you to his compliment has the smirk softening to one of those characteristic rogue smiles of his as he nods and continues to eat.

Soon enough, her quiet acceptance of being willing to come back has him nodding quietly, not wanting to ruin the mood with any talk of anything but still wanting to enjoy the company of her — stomach whirling with the food and alcohol, mind numbing ever so slightly as he pauses to drink from the glass and regard her again.

“So what’s next? After you leave?” He asks, brow raising slightly as he looks to her.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

At last, the silence did not feel as painful. Finally she could breathe without feeling like her chest might implode with the weight of it. Maea savored it, and the stillness of the world around them. A soft wind stirred the leaves of trees outside, and in the distance was a soft sigh of ocean waves. She hadn't heard it before.

"Back to the same routine, for the most part," she replied, looking up at him. "Weaver and I have started to train together more, seems we're getting along quite well. I offered her some of father's old recipes... we're talking about maybe making a liquor just for the Kraai.

"Possibly I'll be looking more into the existence of mageglass too... depends on whether Loren plan on helping me."

She sipped at the whiskey, found that it went well with the food. Maea wondered if it would be some kind of heresy to try using alcohol in food... on occasion.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

A brow raises while he listens to her speak, talking of Weaver and the idea of making their own liquor for the Kraai. It’s a wonderful thought, reminiscent of how he had made a few specific drinks to follow those that meant a lot to him when the bar started. Lusea had one, a smoky drink with a harsh burn. Melita had one too, complete with a honey sweetness and twist to it.

“That’s a good idea.” He rumbles with a slight smile to that. But she captures his full attention as he swallows down another bite of food when she mentions mage glass, head tilting slightly. “What do you and Loren plan to do with it if you find it?” He asks, hoping they plan to keep it away from Zariah’s hands.

Gods knew that his shifts were no match to magic, and the thought leaves him relatively uneasy when it comes to facing off with Zariah if it ever came down to it. So he fills his glass with another amount of whiskey, offers to fill hers up again too, before taking a longer sip of it to try and ward away those particular anxieties.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

He didn't oppose the idea of the liquor, which was good. Unfortunately, his  follow up question circled more around the part that Maea was least sure about, and she gazed thoughtfully into the glass when he poured her more whiskey. She felt the alcohol warm her veins, loosening the tongue and making her relax... really, she should not drink any more. She reached for the water.

"It's something I'm still trying to figure out," she admitted. "Depends on how Neron would treat it, whether it should be left where it is or mined for trade... There's the problem of Zariah to consider too." She wasn't oblivious to it, had not forgotten about the woman.  How could she? "For now, I want to see if it really exist at all, if it's reachable... the idea that there might be a deposit somewhere that is left unattended give me chills. Who knows what hands it might fall into if it's found and none of the established powers knows about it?"

Maea spread her hands, shuddering at the notion of errant powersources appearing at random in the hands of people with unknown intentions. At least Zariah was a known threat, someone watched closely by a number of people.

"What do you think? Is it better to leave it lying?" she asked, interested in his opinion.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

Once he finishes his bowl and contemplates what she tells him, he pushes the bowl forward and sits a bit further back as he holds the glass of whiskey in his hand. His gaze lifts to her while Haai hops up into his lap and rests her head on the table, Sunjata’s free hand moving toward scratching behind her ears while he tries to wrap his mind around it.

He doesn’t hide the faint frown lines that appear along his face when she mentions Zariah, however.

The question is turned to him and he takes a sip from the glass, lips pursing a small amount as he begins to shift Haai with a quiet ‘oof’ sound when she steps on his thigh in his rearrangement. “I think trying to prevent it in the hands of someone with bad intentions is the best idea.” He offers, thoughtfully, pausing to hiss at Haai as her bony elbow pokes him in his ribs. She’s gotten big now, the equivalent of a large dog, big paws finally filling out.

“But people are greedy and power changes people. I think… It’s a delicate situation. At the same time, I’m not Abandoned, and it wouldn’t affect me unless it were in the hands of someone who was.” And then what sort of chance would people like him stand?

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell