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+---- Thread: hell to the stars (/showthread.php?tid=2642)
hell to the stars - Sunjata - 01-24-2020
It was always surprising how quickly things could change.
Luckily, he’d managed to stash away a decent amount of alcohol in back rooms that Phoebe hadn’t gone to when she’d trashed the place. Unluckily, everything that’s happened has him cracking open a bottle and going at it. He’s drank around half the bottle at this point, door to the back of the bar open as he hauls the broken furniture out, getting the larger pieces out of the way before he has a chance to try and sweep up the mess and the glass left behind.
He’s found the cigarettes he’s disregarded while the illness takes its course, forgetting all about the concerns over whether he does it or not. Did it matter anymore? He lights one, setting the pack on the lightning scorched bar top, reaching for the large floor broom to brush everything out of the way. But it’s been awhile since he’s drank, especially this hard, and it’s been awhile since he’d gotten this warm, and after a change of clothes to better suit the task at hand, not sure how long he’ll be at it, he starts to sweep up a pile.
He’s not sure when the last time he’s eaten is, either, and that mixed with everything else is already a slightly bad sign. He can’t find it in him to care, pausing to survey the room with a deep draw of the cigarette, gaze flitting over to the memorial wall – most of it in tact, aside from Lusea’s lantern which had fallen off the wall, a part of it dented. And he sighs, abandoning the broom to pick up the lantern to place it back on the shelf, gaze shadowed and dark as he looks at the last bit of her that he has.
RE: hell to the stars - Maea - 01-24-2020
A pale shadow drifted in through the open back door. The crowd out front had not quite dispersed yet, too busy whispering and gawking at the firmly closed and locked up door to go home or find better things to do. No one thought to head around the back, to see what had gone down inside, to check if anyone was hurt. Their murmuring voices still rang in her ears, grating at nerves gone tense as the strings of Jigano's lute.
She wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted her inside. Tables and chairs strewn around. Broken glass, shattered wood and a sour stench of spilled wine mixed with other spirits, topped off by a faint hint of smoke where lightning had seared the top of the bar. It was a mess. But her eyes went to the man standing alone at the center of it all. A lantern was in his hands, a lit cigarette held limp between his lips... he looked as wrecked as the place was.
Quiet as a sliver of new moon light she picked her way over the floor, carefully stepping around the broken glass on her way towards him. As she came close enough to see Sunjata's face however, Maea paused. Eyes flitted from the smoldering tobacco to a half-empty bottle set aside - one of few that was still intact - and pursed her lips. Thought better of approaching. Instead, she just picked up the broom he'd left and began to sweep the floor, the shimmer of glass shifting over floorboards her only greeting in the heavy silence.
RE: hell to the stars - Sunjata - 01-24-2020
He doesn’t hear her as she enters the bar, doesn’t notice – too blinded by the destruction, the frustration, the anger that seethes within him at being so careless and reckless. Too lost in the moment, too indulgent of the feelings, enough so that both wrists sport those fangs, two more set on his neck that he reaches up to rub at briefly before setting Lusea’s lantern back on the shelf.
He hears the sound of the broom then, picking up a few more pieces that had fallen from the memorial wall to place back up. “[say]We’re closed temporarily.[/say]” He offers, cigarette bumping along his lips when he speaks in a rough, exhausted voice, not looking at who’s approached, who’s entered, trying to pick up what pieces he can of his life. He reaches up to pull the smoke from his lips, exhaling a plume of it through his nose before he turns back toward the bar to reach for the bottle again, hoping that perhaps however had entered had left.
But he spies who holds the broom, eyes flickering over her briefly before he looks around to the destruction wrought. “[say]Oh. Maea. I think your room's okay, but it might be better for you to find somewhere else to stay until everything's cleaned up.[/say]” It’s an almost indifferent answer, uncertain and unsure, but if the back wall had been mostly left unharmed he imagines the rest of it has been too. And with it, he flicks the ash from the cigarette, taking a deep drink of the alcohol and savoring the burn.
RE: hell to the stars - Maea - 01-24-2020
Rushes swished over wooden boards in calm, steady strokes. Her movements with the broom are almost graceful, as though it's a dance and not a huge, tedious chore to clear away all that had broken. The white hair hung loose over thin shoulders, and in the tattered white dress and the black shawl, she was a ghost floating through the room, nearly glowing in the dim light. When he spoke to her the first time, she paused and looked up, considering him as if wanting to speak up... but again thinks better of it, and resumes the work.
The second time he addressed her, this time by name, the girl did not stop or even look up. He told her to go, to bugger off and leave him alone no doubt, even if he didn't use any of those words, even if the tone was neither rough nor a whisper. It was just... empty.
"I don't have anywhere else to go," she simply said, and righted a chair up against a table so she could clean beneath it. It was true, for the most part. While it would not be impossible to get board somewhere else - to beg her loremaster for a cot in the guild or someone else for a mattress on the floor - it was not something easily done tonight. Those who were not already asleep would be heading to bed soon, and she would not impose on them.
"Let me help you." A simple request, not quite a question. Perhaps she would leave if he insisted on it, but then again... perhaps not.
RE: hell to the stars - Sunjata - 01-24-2020
He’s focusing on the lightning patterns in the bar as he reaches for the bottle, listening to her quiet admission. “[say]Then stay if you don’t mind the mess.[/say]” He replies, watching as she works to try and clean up too. She doesn’t have to – she doesn’t have to do any of it at all. It was him, in the end, at least Phoebe had the decency to yell at people to get out before she’d rampaged. That was one step better than Korofi, better than his father in a way.
Didn’t necessarily mean it was a good thing, however.
Her request is met with a dark and quiet laugh, setting the bottle on the counter to run a hand through his hair, pulling at his shirt to cool himself off a small amount. There’s a sheen of sweat that glints against his suntanned skin, against the tattoos, and when he looks to her his gaze is dark, shadowed, haunted. “[say]Help me with cleaning it up? I’m not even sure when we can open it again. She fucking took out over half the stock.[/say]” He says, gesturing to the bar behind him, turning his back to her as he looks up at Haai’s nest, charred by strikes of rainbow lightning.
Ringless hands are splayed along the table behind him, cigarette back in his mouth as he shakes his head and ducks it a bit – some small of disbelief coating over his features. He’d never have expected such a volatile reaction, never expected any of it. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps he’d be better off. “[say]Maybe it’s even not worth opening it again.[/say]”
RE: hell to the stars - Maea - 01-24-2020
It was a hypnotic sound, the swishing of the broom. Like a pulse. A gentle rhythm. A beating heart. Each tinkle as glass shifted against glass was a counterpoint, a prompt, a soft plea to some silent performer to take up the song. Play along, hum out a tune, sing the hymn of a memory battered and bruised, but not quite dead.
Not yet.
"Are you giving up on this place?" she asked calmly, returning questions with a question and not even deigning to reply when her answer was already there, obvious in the simple fact of her presence. Of course she would help clean up. More important was whether he was about to murder this dream for good. Give it the deathstroke with his own hands.
Losing the stock of drink was not the end of the world, and Sunjata should know this. Plenty enough people would be more than happy to trade with the bar, would offer their help and support in rebuilding, if he asked them. Something for something, was the universal, unwritten law of the Hollowed Grounds, and Sunjata had given them all a place to shelter, relax, find solace and make merry.
But it meant little if he would not put in the work to make it happen.
RE: hell to the stars - Sunjata - 01-24-2020
Is he giving up on it? Or does he need a moment to simply try to recover? To visit Torchline and forget everything that’s happened here? He doesn’t know, has never truly known what he wanted. The ocean, yes, and now that the rumors were true… Then what? What was left? His horned head tilts lower again, head hung between the shoulders that prop him up before he exhales, pulling the cigarette from his lips with one last long drag, putting it out in an ashtray nearby.
“[say]No.[/say]” He says after a moment of consideration. It’s the last thing he has of Lusea, the last thing she’d touched, the last thing he had before spiraling completely. Sure, he had the Advocates, but the leaders of that either died or didn’t want it anymore. And at the end of the day, would it really be that much of a loss? His gaze doesn’t find hers, he just continues to look around the building, surveying the damage with steel eyes before he shakes his head.
He grabs something to block the broken glass in the window, to keep things from flying in before he has a chance to replace the glass, stepping by her with heavy feet, a quiet sigh. “[say]I just… Need a bit. It happened so fast.[/say]” His head still spins, the alcohol not helping, his illness not helping, recovering from his blood loss as well, and the still slight tremble to his bones whenever he walked. He manages to block the window she’d broken, moving to the shelving beside it to put the things that had fallen off it back up. “[say]At least she had the decency to not do anything until people had left.[/say]”
RE: hell to the stars - Maea - 01-24-2020
No.
Tension eased from her thin shoulders, one that had not been obvious until it was gone. She sighed a quiet breath of thanks to whatever gods watched over him - Sarfin, perhaps? - but said nothing. Only nodded simple acceptance that he needed time off. That was understandable. More than acceptable. But at least he was coming back. Staying.
"And what about after they left?" It was a slightly too personal question, she knew that even as she asked it. The tone was light though, even - accepting of silence, or anything else he might throw her way.
Having gathered up most of the debris in a pile, Maea began to lif it into a bin with her mind, letting her telepathic hands serve as dustpan, one small pile after the other. Once it was done, she headed over to the bar and began to gather up all the spilled liquids on the floor. It rose up like murky droplets into the air, a glum rain in reverse; gritting her teeth to brace against her own powers, she forced the spoiled liquours to freeze into a solid lump. That too she chucked into the bin, and sighed in quiet relief when she could let the magic drain again. Terrified that it might disobey her again, and slip.
RE: hell to the stars - Sunjata - 01-24-2020
After… Well, that was where it all went to hell, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even been here for most of it, having returned to find his things on the lawn, though the most precious already here – already at the Advocates headquarters. He exhales slowly, putting a few more things on the shelf before he turns to look at her, to watch her as she uses her magic to pick up the dirt and drink from the floor, the dust from everything else. The aftermath.
“[say]She came in with a shovel and started destroying things, Pim started electrocuting things.[/say]” He shrugs, leaning into the wall with his shoulder, arms crossed along his chest. “[say]I didn’t have a chance to explain before she went off, already here, already wrecking it. I told her to take it out on me and not the bar, she said it was all I cared about.[/say]” A shrug, almost indifferent, looking over at the memorial wall that had been relatively unharmed thank Safrin.
“[say]Another argument, and I told her I was done. That it’s over. Took the ring off as I should have in the first fucking place and maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.[/say]” A muscle feathers in his jaw and he dares a look toward Maea, stormy and cold and shadowed. “[say]And here we are, got my wish in the end. Single as ever.[/say]” He inhales as deep as he can, lungs shuddering before he pushes off the wall and goes to right more tables that had managed to only get knocked over and not destroyed.
RE: hell to the stars - Maea - 01-24-2020
With nothing more immediately in her hands, the girl turned to face Sunjata as he started to answer. She had not expected him to, and listened with a breathless stillness about her as he related the tale. Blow by blow, as if it was an official report made by a bystander. As if it was not about him at all, and he couldn't care less.
But seeing the feathering of his jawmuscles, the tension over his shoulders, the dark roil in his eyes, she knew it wasn't true. Brief as their acquaintance was, she had experienced enough of his moods to recognize a storm when she saw one. It was there behind the steely gray ocean in his gaze, in the tone that was just a little too even. The shallow breaths worried her. Maea watched him as he went to settle tables back in their places, and came over to join him in the task. Not because he needed the help, but because she wanted to.
"I am so sorry," she said softly, meaning to lock gaze with him as they lifted one of the heavier tables into place together. Warm and sincere, her sympathy for him was palpable. "That it ended this way. That it had to end at all."
Phoebe had been important to him once. Perhaps still was, for all that the two had hurt one another to the best of their considerable abilities. If it had been love between them at one point, then this must be the most bitter of partings. In anger, in pain, in mutual loathing. And perhaps it was the bar Phoebe had taken out her rage on, but it was Sunjata she had aimed at. Every blow. Knowing it would hurt him most to lose this place.
It was quite deliberately done, as far as Maea could tell. And as her gaze trailed over him, landing on bite marks along his neck and wrists, she thought she knew what had brought it on. Her glance asked the question, even if words never would. Had it been on purpose? Going to that ascended healer, knowing what it would result in?
RE: hell to the stars - Sunjata - 01-24-2020
She comes to help him lift the heavier furniture, and he can’t find it in him to tell her over and over again that she doesn’t have to. But he still meets her gaze as they lift a table into place, his storm clouds meeting her pale colorless gaze, seeing the sympathy, the warmth, the sincerity, and he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t need it at all. The way she says that it had to end at all causes him to shake his horned head, wiping the dust from his hands onto his pants, stepping away from the table back toward the bar to grab the bottle with the briefest hint of a curl of his lip.
“[say]It shouldn’t have married her in the first place.[/say]” He half rumbles, taking a seat beside it and running a hand through his hair. “[say]It was a bad combination.[/say]” Though it’s unclear if he’s talking about what happened with Nate or his compatibility with Phoebe. Had he latched onto Nate because Nate had given him the release he so desperately wanted from someone that wasn’t the one he was married to? Had it been that simple shift in his attention?
“[say]I should’ve taken the fucking thing off before it started.[/say]” He hadn’t expected the rebound of it, the power of it. He splays his hands along his forehead, ruffling his hair a bit more, eyes shutting tight as he tries to wash away the feeling, the exhaustion that came after. “[say]But I didn’t. And it bounced to her and bounced back.[/say]” Perhaps it’s too much information for Maea, perhaps she wouldn’t understand, momentarily forgetting that he was her first kiss, after all.
He takes as deep of an inhale as he can, leaning back in the chair with his head tilted up. “[say]And I asked for more-[/say]" No, he'd begged for more. "[say]and it went too far.[/say]”
RE: hell to the stars - Maea - 01-24-2020
It was... very difficult to refrain from saying 'I told you so'. The words crowded at the tip of her tongue, nearly slipped off and spilled into the open. Perhaps she should have just said it, but it felt too much like rubbing salt into open wounds. And though he rejected her compassion with a single flat stare that she felt to the bones, the girl couldn't quite stop herself from caring anyway. Even if it wasn't what he wanted, or needed right now.
Truth was, she was terrible at this kind of thing. She sensed the tension in him, the darkness and the brooding, but she had no idea what to do with it. Leave him to it? Continue as she did now, simply listening and offering what quiet support she could, wanted or not? Or... did she push, so that he'd get riled up and push back?
But none of it was really her, in the end. So when Sunjata went back to the bar and sank down into a chair, nursing that bottle like it was his only friend, Maea followed and settled in beside him, remaining standing by his side with her arms leaned against the singed surface. The faint scent of smoke and charcoal rising from it was perhaps the least offensive of the smells that currently clung to the atmosphere, including whatever it was he slushed down his throat. Maea breathed it in and tried to pretend that she wasn't a complete novice when it came to intimacy, that she actually understood everything the man tried to tell her... that she wasn't actually blushing at the whole topic.
"Alright, that's fair. But now it's done, it happened. Would you really go back, make it undone? Like you said, you're free of the thing you hate now. Maybe it'll be worth it, in the end? Even if it sucks now."
Perhaps it was a bit too early a question. Practically no time had passed, he'd had no chance to feel anything but anger and guilt (if he actually did, she wasn't sure) and frustration. In many ways, the marriage wouldn't be over until Sunjata managed to let all this go, stopped chewing it over in his head like a tough piece of meat.
Feeling the frustration of it herself, Maea reached for the bottle and snatched it out of his hand. Before he could stop her, or she changed her own mind she stole a swig from it, and coughed - once, twice and tried to hide her watering eyes - when the liquid singed her throat, burning its way down into her stomach.
RE: hell to the stars - Sunjata - 01-24-2020
Sunjata had always been a fighter, at least until they piled and piled on him and he couldn’t take it anymore – those moments of weakness, of breaking and chipping away one fragile piece at a time, swallowing down the soft child that lived within him, that had cried and begged to get out of his Trial when he’d learned of what it was, to dealing with it in anxiety attacks until the very day of. He feels it now, swallowing hard over the topic, over the way she continues to drift to his side when all he felt was ragged, exhausted, shattered – not even knowing what he wanted in the end.
He clutches the bottle in his hand, tilting his head back far enough that the horns scratch against the bar top, and his gaze seeks her out beside him, spotting the blush and thinking nothing of it. She’d have figured it out eventually, and Sunjata hadn’t quite had an outlet for it, not until that moment. He looks away from her at her question, horns scraping further as he lets his gaze survey the bar. “[say]I’d have done it differently but still did it, probably.[/say]” A hoarse, honest answer.
But then she surprises him, moving far quicker than his sluggish mind can comprehend – snatching the bottle. He has a moment of pause, wondering if she plans on tossing it into the bin as well, but she drinks it, and he watches her cough with a small part of amusement somehow finding its way through this mess, before he shakes his head, standing to turn to her, to block her in against the bar with his arms braced on either side if she lets him, peering down at her. He reaches up to try and take the bottle from her, taking a deep sip of it again.
He points the top of the bottle toward her as well as his index finger, aiming to press it against her collarbone. “[say]You don’t drink.[/say]” He says almost informatively, as though she hadn’t known, before setting it back on the bar hopefully out of her reach. “[say]And it’s mine.[/say]” His gaze returns to her, the tilt of his head, a dark brow raised to see if she challenges him for it.
RE: hell to the stars - Maea - 01-24-2020
Humming at the solemn admission even as she choked on the fumes from her swig, the girl turned her eyes on the man beside her when he eyed her. The look in his eyes was odd, equal parts confusion and amusement at her plight... Then he stood, and Maea found that he towered over her far more than she remembered, so tall that she felt enclosed from above, as well as from the sides as he closed her in with his arms. Turning to face him, she folded her arms across the chest, raising a brow at the tone he used.
"I said I don't take well to it, not that I never drink," she reminded him. "But you don't get to say what I can and can't do. Not considering all the idiotic bullshit you've been pulling ever since I met you."
Smirking a little, she reached for the bottle, despite the claim of ownership he placed on it. Only, she used neither her hands nor telekinesis - it was indeed placed too far out of her reach for that. Instead she pulled at the liquid inside the bottle, slipping out a shimmering globule of semi-translucent liquid from the container. This she brought right to her lips, and bit down around it. Kept it in her mouth, not entirely ready to swallow all of it at once.
The look she gave him suggested he wouldn't be able to keep her from doing exactly what she wanted. He could keep the bottle; she'd take the contents, thank you very much.