and you die together

// may we dance until it rains //

He hates LongNight. He always has. So far, though, this year has been blissfully uneventful unlike last year when the merfolk’s body had washed up in the Refuge. This time, he makes himself more available so that if anything does happen, they don’t have to immediately find him at his house.

So he’s at the House of Midnight, with absolutely fuck all to do, sitting behind the bar and definitely not working, and trying to drink enough of something to feel it as he watches the brothel continue to come to life. People stream in and out of it, buying drinks and food and lodging in the magical rooms. He should be pleased about it, that he doesn’t have to worry about the business of things. But instead, he continues to figuratively hold his breath, like the ball was going to drop at some point.

It hasn’t yet. But that doesn’t mean that it won’t. And he likes to think he'll be at least somewhat prepared for it.

Sunjata

// may we drink to hide our shame //

COLT

I used to shine bright like gold
Now I'm all indigo
My colors are darker and cold

She curses the whole walk here. The whole point of stocking up on supplies is to not have to run out and get more. Getting so shitfaced she broke the rest of her tequila bottles? Stupid, but understandable, weirdly. Failing to procure enough lantern oil and only realizing it once she ran out? Dumb, no other way about it. She can't for the life of her remember why she put so many empty bottles back in the box, the box she peeked at before LongNight and said, yeah, that's plenty. Which, it would have been, if they weren't bone dry.

For a while she tried to go without, but a few candles and her fireplace didn't provide enough light and she wound up tripping over so many damn dogs every time she turned around it's a wonder she's not limping in with a broken neck begging for healing. In and out, she tells herself with a deep breath as she stands before the House of Midnight. It's her closest option, and while she'd prefer no one see her out and about and try to talk to her, this place being perhaps the worst place to go to achieve that, without a lantern to ride with she can't do much else but walk.

Hauling open the doors, her quiver slung over her back rattling with the effort, she slips in. The warmth hits her immediately, and after stamping the snow off her boots and brushing it from her jeans, she wriggles out of her gloves and thick jacket. She hangs it by the door and leans her bow there, but she puts the quiver back on after tugging her hair free, hoping it might be enough indicator she's not here to linger for a nice drink and a chat. Her gaze sweeps the gathered crowd, trying to angle the brim of her hat in such a way to obscure her face more but let her peek out. It kinda works.

The moment her focus snags on Sunjata her eyes brighten. She's heard he doesn't venture out much either this time of year, and he'd not known her late husband, so with any luck this will be a painless exchange. "Hey!" she huffs out to him as she leans against the bar like an overboard sailor finally catching onto life raft. "You don't have any lantern oil you can spare, d'ya?"

I gave up a piece of my heart
Then I turned to run
My head's in the clouds
But I don't feel close to the sun

// may we dance until it rains //

More than content to drink and let the night continue to go on until he can’t quite figure out where the day ends and begins again, listening in on the idle chatter of couples gathering or meeting for the night is his own little way of making sure everything here was okay, before he hears a familiar voice directed at him.

It makes him sit up a little, posture straightening, a brief flicker of surprise slips over him in a wave of navy blue feathers that spark at his neck before they dive below his collar and vanish in a here and there motion, placing his tattoos on display again. “Hey.” He greets, offering her a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he turns a touch toward her.

“Lantern oil? Yeah I think I got some extra upstairs.” His most recent inventory count would suggest that he does. He downs the glass in his hand, taps the bar for the bartender in a quiet way of saying he’d be back, and stands — drawing himself back up to his full height. “How many jars are you gonna need?” He asks when he takes a step, clearly expecting her to follow him.

Sunjata

// may we drink to hide our shame //

COLT

I used to shine bright like gold
Now I'm all indigo
My colors are darker and cold

Her palm is soon propping her head up as her side bears the brunt of her weight in a golden spill over the bar. She keeps the hang of her hair and the incline of her hat like a curtain she's drawn against the world, leaving only him for her too peer at and vica versa, well him and the distant crowds buzzing behind him in their own little groups of misery and mischief.

Her gaze drops from the lines of his face that cut him into something handsome to the ripple of feathers that speak of unease. She's only ever known him steady, all his old scars bearing bad memories that his smile always told her he knew better than to revisit. This one doesn't quite speak to the same story. Some of her own jumpy haste softens a hair, fingers spreading lightly against the bar as she sinks back onto her own feet more.

It should be no surprise that an annual stretch of pure darkness for days on end has created versions of nightmares for everyone in some manner, but she's spent so long wrapped up in her own that she'd created this idea that everyone else found lights to cluster around instead. "Oh thanks sugar," she brightens with the relief. "You're a literal lifesaver. Would have found me dead with a broken neck by the time snowmelt hit otherwise." She lurches back onto her heels, shoving off the bar to step in beside him.

"Mm," she murmurs, counting stock and lanterns in her mind along with the number of miserable nights remaining. "Just a couple will do. Don't wanna carry too many and drop any, and I don't wanna leave you short. I'm sure you burn through a lot more than I do." She could get by with one lantern, turn it into her bright little shadow and take it everywhere with her, worst case. Ideally she'd have fuel for the several stationed around her home, but she'd not be looking a gift horse in its mouth tonight.

I gave up a piece of my heart
Then I turned to run
My head's in the clouds
But I don't feel close to the sun

// may we dance until it rains //

He’s had a lot of years to make sure he remained steady – that he wouldn’t let his history or worries pop up to ruin his day, week, month. But LongNight was always harder than most, enough so that his mask slips. It’s been a while since he’s had to be so on top of it, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise. But it still does as he pushes off the edge of the bar and she seems slightly surprised by his demeanor.

Sunjata realizes then that he’d let it slip. But he continues to head up to the staircase toward the attic where the lantern oil was stashed, sure that she’s following him now as she brightens and her voice fills his ears. The least he can do is offer a soft chuckle as she steps in beside him, casting a glance over toward her with that same smile that doesn’t meet the rest of him. “Yeah that’s the last thing I wanna have to do.” And something in his accented tone screams honesty despite the way he tries to joke along back with her.

They reach the top where the attic door is, creaking open on not often used hinges to reveal a multitude of things within. He sparks a lantern on with the strike of a match when something large moves in the corner that takes him by surprise again – scurrying down into the corner. It’s a wine spider and it shouldn’t have taken him by surprise as much as it has, with the way each one of his scars erupts with blue light streaking down each one of them like a strike of lightning.

“Fuck.” He whispers before he sucks in a breath and steps further in, bumping his booted toe against the edge of a chest to make sure it’s the right one before he pops the lid on it to reveal a lot of lantern oil. “We’ve got tons. I can spare you four of ‘em and a bag to carry them in so you don’t break your neck going home?” Turning to look at Colt with a raised brow, the feathers are back in a soft fluff around his neck, raised navy blue above his collar.

Sunjata

// may we drink to hide our shame //

COLT

I used to shine bright like gold
Now I'm all indigo
My colors are darker and cold

Her lips press into an amused line, not quite light enough to rouse a laugh, but humored by this potential horror of her death all the same. "An annoying amount of paperwork, probably," she reasons, airily continuing the hypothetical. At least she'd found that to be the case when her husband passed, and there's always documents for her livestock, although that usually has to do with balancing books.

As he steps into the room, she peeks in around him, curious about this unseen part of the House. Although she doesn't expect anything too thrilling, it's always nice to be given a chance to see a secret, even an ordinary one. It's why, unfortunately, she also catches sight of the moving shadow. Hard to say how much it scares her compared to how much he scares her with his response, the sudden flash of lightning across his scars not helping one bit, all of which causes a startled scream to depart her lips.

Because the 'monster' is identified in the next breath after, an embarrassed laugh does peter out this time, along with a swift smack to his arm. "Don't do that," she scolds with a long, amused sigh wrapping up the moment. Still, she reaches into the side of her boot to pull out her trusty pocket knife, just in case there's more than wine spiders lurking. Truthfully the best knife is the man beside her, half-chicken as they both are right now, but it makes her feel more comfortable to have a grip on something.

Though, this isn't her trusty pocket knife, it's her rusty one. Fucking shit candle light.

Grumbling under her breath she fidgets with her blade while he busies himself in a chest. She manages to work the metal point free to a mostly straight angle, then dips it behind her head into her quiver to add some kind of useful point to the tetanus weapon as the magic container sharpens it for her.

"Are you sure?" she asks, surprise lifting her features as her attention turns back to him, blade held aloft in one hand and the other settling on her hip. The shadows try to claim him in this dark, forgotten space. Just the lantern he brought, and the glow of the door to the rest of the house behind her, offers some amber visibility. "That's awful kind of you Flood. I owe you one." Through the spill of gold that skips over the edges of him, one side better lit than the other, she can make out the still moving feathers that roll around him. It's an unsettling thing, an she can't decide if it's because it's not typical to see flesh bloom into feather, or if it's more because she doesn't like it when he's the uneasy one.

She leans back into a stack of something, resting the tip of her ass on it as she settles a touch. "You alright, Sunjata?" she asks, softening further still, but with the quiet of understanding more than true worry.

I gave up a piece of my heart
Then I turned to run
My head's in the clouds
But I don't feel close to the sun

// may we dance until it rains //

So much paperwork. But this wasn’t Korofi so he didn’t have to file reports to anyone. He didn’t have to do any announcements to the higher ups. He is the highest position there is, here. So he lets that joke trail off in the dark of the attic as he lights some of the lamps, when the large wine spider moves and strikes him with enough surprise that he lights up like a lightning rod himself and flinches slightly with the smack to his arm, a breath leaving him that’s halfway between relief and a small laugh to her scolding. “I didn’t do it on purpose.” It was a passive magic he couldn’t really turn off. Heightened emotions caused it to spark in his scars.

Finally, though, the crate is opened and he’s bending down to collect the four bottles – because yes, Colt, he’s sure, when he draws up and hears her. Cradling three bottles of lantern oil in his arm, the last sits in his hand as he pops the lid back on and rises back to his full height, looking over at her as she speaks. “LongNight always puts me on edge.” He explains, like it’s a good enough reason.

And for those that remembered the LongNights of the Hollowed Grounds from years past, they’d understand. “I’ll be fine when the sun comes up.” He shrugs his shoulder that isn’t attached to the arm holding the bottles, flashes her a rougish smile that doesn’t meet his eyes again, and steps past her toward the wine spider to snag a canvas tote bag that’s stacked in a pile beside her. He hands it to her, before he pauses directly in front of her, face illuminated halfway by the lantern light up here as he looks down at her. He pulls himself together enough that the feathers vanish, letting the compass tattoos be visible again with the northern points that aim at her from where he stands. “The distraction’s nice, at least.” Even if it was as mundane as collecting lantern oil to give her before he has to go and try to find another way to keep himself busy until the sun came up.

Sunjata

// may we drink to hide our shame //

COLT

I used to shine bright like gold
Now I'm all indigo
My colors are darker and cold

Her scorn is only from fondness and familiarity, no true weight to it. Though, the last time he'd lit up like that, it'd been between them amid the rain, and with little of the same effects here she hasn't devised his lack of control over it. She doesn't suspect he's up to a damn thing though, startled same as she, lights or not, so she leaves his excuse with nothing other than a quiet glance his way.

LongNight's as good a reason as any to be on edge by her estimations, so she nods like she expected as much when he tells it so plain. "Me too," she sighs, and like him doesn't give much reason as to why. There's no fixing it, not in her mind, so saying much about it would just be wasting breath. Shitty things happen to everyone, especially in the deep dark, so the cause doesn't seem to matter much to her. What does, is sitting with someone through it, which she doesn't have much experience with, but has already made this a more bearable LongNight than most.

His smile tells her plenty about not wanting to divulge more, so she doesn't press. She doesn't believe it either, but she's worn plenty just like it to know what it means. As he extends a bag towards her, she steps up to retrieve it, gathering it open for him to deposit the oil jars inside. She tips the sharpened edge of her knife away as she does so. Deeper in the room now, it's mostly just the lantern that gives them anything to see by, but it's enough to manage. It makes the shadows on the further edge of him sharp and dark, a strong contrast to the gold flame in front of him, warm and bright. She tilts her head for a moment, gaze sweeping up to find his eyes through the gloom. His feathers are gone now, but their absence feels like his smile did. "Could always stay distracted up here longer," she offers. "I'm in no hurry." A bit out of favors to ask though.

I gave up a piece of my heart
Then I turned to run
My head's in the clouds
But I don't feel close to the sun

// may we dance until it rains //

He could say more, if she asked. But there’s a part of him that’s quietly glad that she doesn’t – happy to stew in other thoughts and not think about all of the traumatic events that happened during the longest night of the year. So, he hears her suggestion – the offer to stay distracted up here a bit longer sparking a soft snort once he’s handed her the bag for the oil.

“What kind of distraction? I’m kind of out of creativity for the time being.” He pauses, sighing a little as he remains in her space before almost realizing it, stepping back to give her a bit more space so he isn’t crowding her. He glances around the dimly lit room again, spying boxes and trunks full of clothes, new product, bottles of liquor for the back up for the bar downstairs and the wine spider from earlier that has settled in the far corner back in the dark, visible only by two long legs that poke out like little spikes.

All in all, relatively boring things without him having half a mind to figure out just what they could do within the confines of this dark room. That is, until he spots something sticking out of a box on the ledge, stepping past Colt to snag the little deck of playing cards still in its sleeve. With a suggestion made of some random game to play by the lantern light, over the lid of the very box that he'd pulled the lantern oil out of, it provides just enough for him to feel a little better and enough time to make it at least somewhat bearable for the rest of the season.

- FIN

Sunjata

// may we drink to hide our shame //