where the shadow ends

temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones

He did have multitudes – from nearly dying, his attunement, his failed first marriage, the Longnight where he’d burned down the Rathskeller, to building his own with his first beloved and Melita beside him, to leaving when the ocean called his name, to returning when the Ascended needed as many allies as they could get. It all seemed to blur together at one point or another. But one thing was for certain, the good memories there – however far and few between – outweighed the shittiness of the Grounds. And he doesn’t want to taint that by seeing how much had changed.

So when she says she finds it hard to believe, he hums a note of agreement. “I met Nate there.” As if that was the entire reasoning in and of itself. Yes, the meeting had spurred on so much more bullshit, but that was where he’d met the man that had changed his life, whom he had devoted every piece and being of his soul and body to, even if he’d done it in ways that were stupid and ridiculous. It had all been for him, and by the end of it he’s sure Nate understood that.

“Could go without seeing the Oasis again though.” And he visibly shudders, because that had been the location of the Spite Wedding, among so many other terrible decisions he’d made.

the flood

tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up

totally sniped from odd ilu

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Melita’s memories might have once outweighed the bad, but gods, the Grounds also tormented and tortured so many of them, that the notions were just as clouded and murky as her brain at the moment. She’d met some wonderful people and had infinite bounds of fun, but then everything came crashing down in so many instances, it was hard to pinpoint when the tirades became colossal, and the triumphs insignificant.

So she stilled, a rarity, when Sunjata announced he’d met Nate there. While it wouldn’t be enough to keep the Honeybee’s bitterness away, she nodded. “Keep that memory then,” and dash away the rest of them that didn’t fit or stick.

Her nose wrinkled, not bothered by the Oasis, but certainly others. “Or the Spire.” Maybe it collapsed and fell apart in the aftermath of the war, but she doubted they’d be so lucky. Gnawing at another piece of bread, she curled it apart in her fingers. “Have you seen Phoebe since?”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones

There’s a large part of him glad that he doesn’t need to elaborate – that there’s some deepened fear that seeing how different the Grounds has become might change those very distinct memories of where he’d met his other half. He isn’t sure whether or not he wants to chance it, should the clinic not be there, or the ruins where they’d first started down the road that would lead to disaster. So he nods, instead, letting his agreement meld with her own offering, intending to do precisely that.

As for the Spire, however, his nose remains wrinkled from thinking of the Oasis to the shitty dark spire that always seemed to loom over them wherever it was they looked next. “I’d be surprised, given it was only half standing to begin with.” His memories aren’t fully intact, but he does recall someone crashing into it and wrecking half of it. Though, it’s possible Isla while she ruled had worked to fix that in the hopes they might one day use the Spire as a weapon.

Only things hadn’t quite gotten that far, unfortunately.

The question of Phoebe does spark a soft laugh to leave him. “Yeah. She stayed at the Refuge with her son. I don’t think she was pleased at first to know that she was not the only Frey demigod these days.” But she’d softened – deciding that while she was the nurturing part of reproduction, Sunjata had geared himself toward the far more sexual and playful aspects of them. So he hadn’t minded. “She still knows how to get under my skin.” A huff leaves him as he reaches for a shot to down while Melita nibbles on the bread.

Speaking of deities, however. “How are things with you and Ludo?” He asks, wondering if the trickster god had continued to keep her in its favorites.

the flood

tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up

totally sniped from odd ilu

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Most of the Grounds could fall apart at the seams and the Honeybee would’ve remained wholly indifferent to its destruction. Pockets of good memories could be collected and stored, but they were so few and far between that she didn’t bother most of the time – Sunjata seemed to do most of the heavy lifting when it came to doldrums.

Unaware of why he was laughing about Phoebe, because maybe the question was ludicrous or maybe it bordered on walking into a landmine, her brows raised. “Gross,” she uttered, to nothing in particular, or everything – it was difficult to say. “She was all right when we went to the Climb and found rubies,” and her own greedy little hands had snagged at what she could.

As for Ludo – her memories fogged and recollected and then spun around. “All good,” she figured, intending to utilize that damned feather in her bag for something, eventually.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones

Her uttering sparks another hint of amusement from Sunjata, lips quirking as it tugs on the scar on part of his face, regarding her with a raised brow as she mentions that she was alright when they’d gone to the Climb together. “I’d imagine that’s because you’re not me.” He teases her lightly, fully taking the blame for being the one to put Phoebe (or anyone, for that matter) into an instant bad mood.

But that’s old news these days. And when Melita tell shim that all is good with Ludo, he nods – pleased for her, to have such a connection with a deity that she still believed in – not that Frey had given Sunjata any reason not to believe in them, but prior traumas from Safrin made it difficult for him to trust these days. “Have you gotten anything new and fancy from it?” He asks, trying to get her to speak more about what she’s been up to – wanting to know what he’s missed out on from his stupidity.

the flood

tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up

totally sniped from odd ilu

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Who would want to be quipped through her mind, but maybe control and composure and growth had a hankering and hold on her tongue – because the alcohol sure didn’t. So she shrugged her shoulders, devouring the rest of the bread, eyes meandering to more passing food. Maybe some chocolate this time…

The next question kept her attention somewhat back on the present, her head swinging back towards her uncle. “Not lately,” but that was because she’d been in a listless sort of haze, sauntering about with her head not entirely sure about what she was supposed to be doing next. “Gonna ask for something out of the KingMaker’s feather that I got.” While they were trying to save Torchline during that ol’ war.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones

On that they can agree – these days Sunjata doesn’t want to be himself either. But he has things to atone for and a life to figure out how to live. Trapped here as he is, trying to figure everything else out at the same time. It was a lot and it added up quickly, and Sunjata didn’t entirely know how to start it other than the difficult conversations like this one. And maybe it would start to get better like this one has been so far.

The answer is a whole lot of nothing, though, before she continues on about the KingMaker’s feather, and Sunjata lets a soft hum slip from him in acknowledgement. While he didn’t know what happened outside of the haven aside from the disastrous to him, he had heard about it in the months since. “Oh, do you have any ideas for it?” He asks curiously – though he can tell her patience is waning, unsure whether to stay much longer or leave her be.

the flood

tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up

totally sniped from odd ilu

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Snagging at a piece of chocolate next, the Honeybee munched contentedly, mind immediately wandering from myriad of thoughts to thoughts with no actual grasp on any meaning in between. Haphazard and scattered, and nearing the end of her patience for anything transpiring; what she truly needed was to drink a large amount of water and go to bed before the impending hangover.

The question brought her back to something vague, and she blinked unsteadily at Sunjata several times before registering the notions. Back to an order, as best she could, she nodded dimly. “Supposed to be something for healing.” And gods knew she didn’t have anything like that in her repertoire – usually couldn’t be assed or bothered. But the KingMaker, despite never hitting her in the first place, had taught her some manner of futility and mortality; or that she could have easily been knocked down along the sands, just like Jack.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones

She blinks at him blankly when he asks his question and he suddenly scouts around for a glass of water he might offer her while she works to answer his question. He’s nearing the end of his time, he thinks, nearing the end of her patience with him but it’s been… A good conversation, one that gives him more of that terrible optimism that maybe all is not lost yet. “That’s a good idea.” He agrees, swiping the glass and pouring some water in from a jug that sits on top of a barrel before he returns to her.

He hands her the glass and tries to catch her gaze again. “If I can help with anything, just let me know.” She’s always been the type to be able to get things done on her own, to succeed in whatever she set her mind to, but if he can help he wants her to know that she could always ask him and now he’d be there for anything she might need.

the flood

tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up

totally sniped from odd ilu

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Staring stupidly at the glass as if not recognizing the element contained within, it took her more than a few seconds to grasp it. “Thanks,” she uttered in return, for the offer and the idea and the sudden influx of water. It went down her throat rapidly, and she probably should’ve chased it down with several more, but now her mind had a grasp on some subject matter – like healing bullshit.

“Maybe I’ll get another bracelet,” and she laughed, maneuvering a little so the one around her ankle bobbed with its Fae charms. Swaying for far longer that intended, she grasped hold of a nearby barrel and pretended it’d been on purpose. Besides, she could have a whole assortment of dangerous bits and bobs that seemed innocuous until she blew everyone up – which inspired a brief, bubbling laugh. And a hiccup.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones

“You’re welcome.” He cuts himself off before he adds heuningby, unsure if it were even his place these days to return to old nicknames for his niece. Instead, he simply drains the rest of his glass before he pours some of the water from the jug into his own, returning his steel gaze back to the fiery young woman when she speaks, then turns to show off the bracelet around her ankle, and he’s just about to comment on it when her laughter and sway and attempt to hold herself up on the barrel comes to the surface.

He laughs alongside her, however, pretending to go along with it. Pretending that she’d done that little dance and balance loss on purpose, before he’s reaching for that glass again to fill it for her once more. “Where would you put the other one?” He asks, remembering the variety of them she often bore, one that sat around her wrist that turned into a bow and arrow, specifically. Either way, a smile still tugs on his face, feeling some ease in this conversation, unsure if it’s how much alcohol she’s had or that he might have a chance to fix what he’d broken between them.

the flood

tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up

totally sniped from odd ilu

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Oh, look, another glass of water. Forgoing and forgetting the convenience that her uncle sought, and sorely saw she needed, she downed the cup once more. Her other hand clutched the barrel, because at some point the ground had started spinning, and she wasn’t quite ready to go zig-zagging her way home yet. “Ummmm,” flickered across her tongue as her mind attempted to register the parameters and potentials.

She glanced down at her ankle, then her wrist, and then thought about all the daggers layered beneath her dress, but those weren’t bracelets, so maybe they didn’t matter. But weapons were weapons and useful items were her bread and butter. Ooh, bread.

Eventually the consideration, which lasted all of five seconds but felt like eternities, launched with her upraised, and lacking a weapon, wrist. “On this hand!”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones

He holds off on offering her another glass of water once she downs the second one, deciding it might be better to let that settle before her stomach grew upset with the contents of water — not wanting to have to deal with the potential of her getting sick onto him. At least the oceans right there to clean up, if it did happen, but he still watches and waits for her to answer his question.

He does, actually, flinch slightly when her hand raises abruptly, as if his subconscious was sure it would have a weapon in it aimed at him, but when it doesn’t he loosens a soft laugh. “Good idea.” He agrees, offering the compliment as well, before he finishes his own glass of water, nowhere near the state she’s in (had it been his presence here that has caused it?). “Do you want to sit?” He asks because there’s no way he’s about to tell her to do something, and he casts a glance to the far reaches of the party where a familiar figure stands, intending to speak with him once he’s done here.

the flood

tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up

totally sniped from odd ilu

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Gods, what a missed opportunity – for she did smirk when he flinched. Just as dangerous and wild in her inebriated state as she was in her natural one, it would’ve been a sight to see her striving to aim her arrows or strike with her staff or clamber with her dagger. Beginning to laugh at the notions spiraling about her head, her brows furrowed at the notions of sitting.

Why? She was doing just fine, clinging to the barrel for dear life.

“I’m good,” and yes, somehow this was Jata’s fault. “Maybe I’ll go home soon,” uttered out loud, like it was another grand idea traipsing through her brain. “The party looks like its winding down.” She hadn’t actively participated in it anyway, aside from drinking heavily.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life