[SE] all the choirs in my head

Maea

Stars, hide your fires

Sitting here like this brought up so many memories. Recalling the confidences shared between them reminded her of the good parts of what they'd had, that too often got drowned by the awful bits. They had been friends, not just lovers, and though she certainly had tried to rid Jata of some unhealthy habits, she'd seen it as 'helping' at the time. Now her mouth quirked in a half smile, a touch rueful over the futility of her self-imposed quest. It most certainly had not worked, no. Point taken - only she could affect the changes she wished to see in herself.

"What did you do, ultimately?" she asked, when Sunjata grew quiet and she considered all that had been left unsaid. "Sorry for saying it like this, but, Nate still died, despite your bargain with Safrin. Your daughter is not here. I get the part of almost not making it... but you did. How? What drove you to take that step, and do all the things you couldn't before?" Drowning was easy, she knew that from painful experience. Succumbing to the darkness, to depression, wrapping yourself in self-righteousness where everyone else was the problem and she the victim - that she knew the pitfalls of, too. And Maea had found a makeshift reason to keep going, in faces of people who had not died, or left, or otherwise abandoned her, but on the dark days where loneliness tore at her chest, she questioned whether belonging built upon a foundation of other people would ever be secure enough to feel safe. 

And the gods... the ones who used to have her devotion felt far away, while her new matron remained unknowable, a mystery she was scorned for wanting to understand. It didn't leave much else to find strength in, when she didn't feel enough for anyone, or like she belonged anywhere.

Let not light see my black and deep desires

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

What did he do? A lot of nothing. A lot of wasting away until his shifts forced him to eat. A lot of avoiding seeking Frey out because he didn’t want to see the reminder of Nate in their face. A lot of feeling adrift and broken and lost. “My bargain with Safrin was null that day when Nate became the Voice’s demigod.” He says simply, like he’s tired, like everything he’d done that day hadn’t even mattered in the grand scheme. And he’d loved his daughter, had taken as good of care of her as he could, without Safrin’s poison invading her mind. “And Ria comes and goes as she pleases from the stars, it seems like.” He’d seen her a few seasons ago before she’d slipped back to her mother’s domain – or so he hopes, at least.

But the question of what drove him to take that step and do the things he couldn’t before? Well, that’s certainly a question. “Frey, mostly. And Isla at the time.” He offers with a small shrug, the muscles feathering in his jaw briefly as he contemplates his next words. “I had obligations I couldn’t ignore. Nate and I had saved these twins we were raising at the time and I had to be there for them, at least to help them find a comfortable place in King’s End where they wouldn’t have to deal with me being.. well, me.” The family had been perfect, and he still visits on occasion, but it had been the only thing that kept him from walking into the ocean the day he’d found out.

Shifting his steel gaze back toward Maea, the quiet sound of his teeth grinding precedes his voice. “Frey gave me a purpose and the tools to get stronger and better. And I did. I opened the House of Midnight with Isla, I was blessed with more mythical shifts and magic. I became strong. And now, the only thing I can do, is to help where I can to write the wrongs of what I did.” A constant atonement, over and over again.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

Maea

Stars, hide your fires

Stroking the grass like the earth was a living thing to pet and pamper, Maea sat quiet for a few moments, comparing Sunjata's trials to her own. While many of the details and reasons differed, the process they had to go through were eerily similar. Grief to process and overcome, changes to face and embrace, atonement to be made... It was interesting, in a way, and humbling to realize the depths of tragedy the Flood had waded through to come out on top. She'd known some of it, but far from everything.

"That might be what I stumble over," she mused, when he mentioned Frey, responsibility and Isla as the things that kept him going. "I certainly have friends, but not something I can call my own. Nor do I have that kind of bond with the gods that I feel comfortable airing all my questions... Not that Dygra has been anything but kind - it's not that - but I feel – " gesturing with a hand, she searched for the right words, " – ungrateful. And stupid, I guess. I made a pact without knowing what I swore myself to, and it's much too late to have regrets. Yet the more I consider what she stands for, I get this sinking feeling in my gut. Like I've wound up far beyond anything I know, where nothing I thought of as right or reasonable apply anymore." It was possibly the first time she ever voiced these concerns out loud in this way, and to her shame she felt tears rising in her eyes from the depth of the emotions it brought forth. Bowing her head so that the long hair could hide her face, Maea drew a careful breath - careful not to sniff too loudly - and pulled on the grass untill it ripped off in her hand.

"What's chaos about, anyway? Is there anything good in destroying things? So far the only changes I've seen have been uncomfortable and awful - and if all I'm going to be capable of is to ruin relationships, hurt people and break things, then... I don't think I'll ever be able to embrace what I am. Or live with the kind of person I'd become. " It meant distancing herself from her race as she would never truly fit in, never fully trusting in her goddess because there were aspects she was terrified of, always remaining on the outskirts of groups, relations, other gods - because she belonged to Dygra now, and it was a choice she couldn't unmake.
It was more than a fear of change that had her frozen in place. It was the rootless feeling of being adrift without a goal, or purpose, where her values didn't align with those of others she met - and so she had to choose. To either stay who she was and remain alone, or to adapt to fit with the others - and lose something vital in the process. Awful place to be in, when her greatest fears came down to loneliness and loss of integrity.

Let not light see my black and deep desires

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

He listens, and as he does there’s only more questions that seem to arise. But he remains silent, letting her tear out the grass she’s sitting at, noting the careful breath even if her pale ivory hair blocks the sight. He knows. He doesn’t comment on it. It isn’t his place to, not anymore. So he waits until she’s done, with the questions she has and the way she seems to go from point A to point B as if it were a straight line.

In his experience, there were no such things as straight lines. He’d always had to take a scenic route or two, whether it was for better weather or in the midst of a downpour. It’s the navigating that makes the memory stick, the actions second nature. And perhaps that’s the point she’s forgetting.

So Sunjata hums a little and his fingers drum against his leg, beneath his pants sit the shark bite scars from one of their outings, though he doesn’t comment on it – half the time forgetting they’re there until he catches sight of them. “I have that bond with Frey now, but I didn’t immediately. Even when I became their demigod.” Sunjata offers the tidbit out, just in case it helps. “And you with Dygra, I mean.. You’re acting like she’s the Voice. She isn’t.” He’d practically begged Isla to become Ancient so she wouldn’t have to suffer as an Ascended anymore. “She’s an old god, on par with Caido, right?” Maybe he’s just not understanding why it’s so bad.

But he continues anyway, deciding that maybe if he answers the question about chaos it might help her understand it better. “The changes are gonna be shitty and uncomfortable. You don’t change if you keep everything happy and content. You have to go through the bullshit to get to the better side.” He admits, his hand lifting to rub at the scar tissue that gnarls his cheek, cutting a pale line through his stubble.

“And chaos can be anything. Doesn’t have to be destroying things. Chaos can just be unpredictable. Like the weather.” It didn’t mean you had to go out and be a mass murderer. “I don’t know a lot of Ancients, but I do know Danta and Isla pretty well. Danta basically embodies being a traditional Ancient I guess, but Isla? Isla’s still a doctor, still helping people. She’s hardly selfish and just wants the best for people.” Did that make her less of an Ancient just because she wasn’t on par with Danta in the sporadic chaos he harbored? In his experience, no. "So I guess I just don't really understand why you're so set on sticking yourself in the box of a traditional Ancient when you're not one."

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

Maea

Stars, hide your fires

They were deeply connected in her mind, for all that the topics seemed vastly different. The ability to embrace change and the need to accept herself were both tied to the goddess of entropy, whose darkness both attracted and repulsed her. Perhaps it wasn't so much that Maea thought she was bad, but rather different in a way that seemed contrary to her own nature. Much like she was different from Sunjata, who never hesitated to share himself with anybody while it was the hardest thing she ever did.
Still, it helped more than he likely knew, to hear that even a demi-god hadn't been close to his god from the outset. Maybe it wasn't too late to at least try asking questions, ignore Thalassa's scorn at the notion, and maybe hear what the dark lady herself thought about it... It certainly played into the 'facing discomfort' part, so it should be in the right direction towards change, at least.

A breath blew strands of salty hair from her face, and Maea straightened up a bit. Then Sunjata hit her with the last part of his response, and she quickly looked up at him with an expression like she'd been clobbered over the head. In a good way – she was blinking red rimmed eyes clear of the painful doubt that bent her shoulders under the weight of a mountain, and with a single question she had to wonder herself exactly why she'd burdened herself with it.
"Well, but... shouldn't I be? Dygra accepted me unconditionally, and Danta took me in even though he didn't have to. Don't I owe them to at least try to fit in?" She frowned softly again, wrestling with the idea. That Isla was different she sort of knew already, but she was such an image of perfection in Maea's mind that it always seemed impossible to emulate her. "I've spent so many years fighting what I'd become... I figured, now that I have a chance to start over, I should reinvent myself completely. Only... I can't seem to let go of who I used to be. I thought I didn't know who I was or what I wanted anymore, yet apparently I have a lot of opinions about a lot of things..." As always, she found herself confounded by the contradictions of her own mind; eager to change, unwilling to let go of who she was, uncertain what that meant, yet stolid in her values and principles. She was certain of her words one minute and deeply questioning the next, as mercurial in her desires as the weather in Flowerbirth.

Offering Jata a rueful smile, it seemed she certainly hadn't changed in the way she kept painting herself into corners, or needing help getting out again. "You really think it's okay to be... just me? It's not... I don't know... wiishy-washy? Half-assed? It feels like quitting, somehow." But maybe that was simply her insecurities whispering that she'd never be enough regardless.

Let not light see my black and deep desires

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

“No?” Sunjata says with a soft laugh, his crooked smile aimed at her for a moment before he looks away with a shake of his head and a shrug. “I became one of Frey’s demigods after Phoebe did. And we couldn’t be anymore opposite.” The marriage failed for many of the same reasons he and Maea had their arguments. Yes, Sunjata often shared his body with others. A coping mechanism, mostly, but sometimes just to have fun. Phoebe never did. That didn’t make them more or less of the fact they both belonged to Frey.

But she continues, and all Sunjata can think is just how much she’s making everything such a big deal when it doesn’t really need to be. “You always have had a lot of opinions about everything.” He tells her bluntly, angling his head back toward her before he stretches out the long leg he’d had his arm wrapped around. Planting both hands on the edge of the stone, he leans forward to see the rueful smile grace her lips.

“That’s the only thing you can be, right? Like.. I’m me. Sure I’m a demigod, but.. Frey doesn’t define me. I did this shit before I pledged myself to them.” It was a happy accident and something he’d done when he’d even been Safrin’s. And even after the war, when it never helped and he was decidedly not acting like Frey’s demigod, there wasn’t animosity in it from them. Just unconditional love.

He stretches out a little before he squints at her. “Why don’t you ask Dygra if you’re worried about it?”

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

Maea

Stars, hide your fires

You could practically see the cogs turning in her head as Maea processed these tidbits of information. Gods knew she had prayed for the ability to simply accept things for what they were and not think so damn much – but as Sunjata just pointed out, that simply wasn't her. Wired differently, it was entirely in her nature to ask questions and ponder the deep meanings of people, the gods, the world and herself, as internal in her approach to being as he was external. Nothing intrigued her so much as the question of why, and maybe... maybe that was alright, after all. It wasn't to say that she shouldn't work on relaxing and 'going with the flow', as it were, because there was much peace to find in that - but there was really no reason why she had to live on in ignorance when the answers were a question away.

"Mmn. I'll ask her." Drawing in a deep breath, Maea held it until spots danced before her eyes. Rubbing hard at them with the butt of her palms, then scratching her scalp until the hair was a tangled mess to be raked away from her face, she eventually let out the frustration in a rusty laugh. "Gods, it's so dumb. So much wasted energy – and for what? They don't care anyway." It hurt to admit. Asta's face, and Danta's, and Thalassa too flashed across her vision - all people she'd been trying to change for, been upset about, wrestled with and tried to make peace with... only for it to go up in flames. Why was she agonising over them when it didn't matter either way? Anger replaced the pain, blazing white-hot through her senses for a second - and when it burned itself out, she fell back into the grass with a strangely empty feeling. Like an abcess had been drained, and pain finally ebbed from memory. It felt... good. Liberating. And as a thought struck her, she peered up at Sunjata with laughter glittering in her eyes.

"Hey. Look at that. I listened to you, for once. Didn't argue a single time. You think the world will end tomorrow?"

Let not light see my black and deep desires

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

It’s the least she could do, he thinks. Because it’s exactly what he does these days when he’s unsure about things. Talking to Frey often put things into perspective, helping him grow and adjust and adapt, especially when at the end of the day he’s learned that they only ever want him to be as happy as he feasibly can be.

But perhaps that’s Frey’s nature (ha), to go with the flow of things and see how they turn out. Whatever it is, the Flood hopes that Maea finds whatever it is she’s looking for. And that, is his own form of growth. So he listens as she offers her admission, not fully understanding the meaning of it entirely, but figuring he knew enough to be able to surmise what she was thinking about.

But then she’s laughing, sitting up suddenly and Sunjata’s steel gaze shoots toward her – not full of stormclouds as they once had been, but open. Bright. Grey to match the clouds drifting above the canopy that blots them out. Grey to match the strands flaring through his dark curls. It has him pulling himself up from the stone to come near her, kneeling at her side in the grass, where she can see the constellation of freckles in his cheeks brought out by the sun, the wrinkle lines that weren’t there before, and the curve of a smile that’s far more lopsided than he’d ever been able to do with the scar that ruined the muscle in his cheek. It also puts him in the perfect position for her to catch wind of his passive magic, not that he remembers it even exists these days.

“Nope. I think it might get a bit better for you though, since it’s the first time you have.” The accented laugh that accompanies his teasing is a gentle one, an older one, not plagued with the air of smoke from a cigarette or the aloofness of someone afraid to get attached to anyone. It’s wise in comparison, as if he’s been there before and would hate to be there again.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

Maea

Stars, hide your fires

It was an excellent showcase of how turbulent her emotions were, that she could go from apprehension to frustration into blazing fury and then laugh in relief and genuine amusement over the span of a few minutes. No wonder they overwhelmed her. No wonder the internal fireworks were confusing people - they confused her, too, and while it really was a good feeling to let them out to play, Maea felt raw and vulnerable for it, too. Like the way her stomach filled with butterflies as Sunjata slipped down from his perch to kneel beside her, looking every bit the charming rogue she'd once fallen head over heels in love with. It was silly and foolish because she'd rather chop her hand off than reach for him again, yet a part part of her heart would always have his name carved into it. Inextricably, no matter how she raged against it - and for perhaps the first time in her life, Maea surrendered to that lingering affection. Allowed herself to simply feel it, and found... that it was light as a feather. Golden and bright and entirely her own, free of conditions and independent of what he might feel or say or do - a gentle flame that needed no fuel to keep burning.

"That's it, then. I've changed, my work here is done - " she jested merrily, dusting off her hands in a dramatic gesture like she'd just done a hard day's work. "Thank you," she added, softening into a more sincere expression. "For taking the time to listen. It makes a world of difference to voice these things in a safe space." Somewhat surprisingly, it appeared that he still was that. For all the hurt and resentment that'd muddled things between them, he'd never actually betrayed her trust or failed to try when she'd needed help. Even now, long after he should have given up on ever getting through her thick skull... here he was.

Reclining onto her elbows, Maea contemplated the scars on his face and the gray strands silvering his hair. Faintly aware of a bright scent of lemons and mint that came drifting on the wind, she inhaled and felt refreshed; it reminded her of something sweet and mellow, honey melting on the tongue – and she almost laughed again when she realized what it was. Cough drops. That's what he smelled like.

"Jata... do you think there's any hope of us being friends again?"

Let not light see my black and deep desires

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

“Ooh, just like that huh?” Sunjata hums with an accented laugh, soft and easy like the breeze that races through the Oerwoud. But as she continues, the Flood’s steel gaze focuses on her, on the tangle of her pale hair against her horns, of the way she still looks quite young in comparison to how much he’s aged in the same amount of time. Death and rebirth would do that, he supposes, though it’s almost surprising that it’s been so stark.

He’d grown, he’d moved on, he’d been able to learn and become so much closer to Frey that he can embody them easily in the way he listens — because for him? Frey had become his safe space. The only place he could go and let it all out and not be judged. Helped instead of mocked. And it made a world of difference. So he nods, silently, lips still quirked in that crooked and lopsided smile, before he watches her recline onto her elbows.

Her question is one that takes him a touch by surprise — evident in the blink he offers her before he chuckles again and reaches forward with his lightning scarred hand, fingers untangling the blonde from her horns until they fell out of her point of view. “I mean.. I don’t see why not? Do you?” The question seems to suggest that he didn't mind one way or another but that it solely rested on whether Maea felt comfortable enough to take the leap.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

Maea

Stars, hide your fires

She stilled at the touch of his hand, breathless and tense for a fluttering heartbeat. Thinking about pulling away, the notion of facing what was uncomfortable filtered through her mind, and so she allowed him to straighten out her hair. Strangely, what she'd feared - pain or passion or a reminder of a sweetness she no longer craved like before - didn't come. Her scalp tingled a bit, and a brush against smooth horn registered, and that was it. That was all. Neither unpleasant, nor overwhelming; and as she relaxed, Maea's smile warmed a fraction more into something far more comfortable.

"Well. We've spent most of the past decade arguing, and we've both been very good at dragging up our differences to hurt the other. So if you felt any lingering resentment or just didn't want to be around me, I wouldn't hold it against you." Sobering as she fell into thoughtful silence, she eventually shrugged lightly. "I think I'd like it, though. To get to know this person you've become, some ten years later." She had a feeling that she could learn much from the progress he had made, and it would be... a relief, a healing, to see whether a burned down bridge could be rebuilt, even though all evidence should have been against it. And maybe... just maybe, she could admit that she had missed the fun they used to have.

Let not light see my black and deep desires

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

There’s no heat or intent in the touch. Just a semblance of kindness as he helps to clear her vision from the wild ivory hair that had tangled and snarled as she went through her emotions. And when he’s placed it out of her line of sight, he sits back on his heels and watches her as her smile warms, as if the idea of him being near was one that she’d been wary of but realized it didn’t harbor the teeth she otherwise thought it might have.

At least, that’s what he thinks based off of what she said before, but he settles and snorts to her follow up - his shoulder shrugging a little in response. “A lot of shit happened, Maea. The things we argued about seem pointless now.” What was the purpose? He’d moved on, he’s living his life, he’s ruling his region. He’s got so much more shit to focus on now than previous pettiness.

“I’ll tell you now that I’m different.” He’s said it before, but reiterating it seemed vital. So the Flood shifts a little to lay in the grass and peer up at the canopy above, arms lifting to tuck under his head as he stares up at the canopy. “Got any burning questions to start off with?”

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?

Maea

Stars, hide your fires

He scoffed and she tilted her head in a curious angle, exacerbated by the bold curve of alabaster horns. Possibly she disagreed that there was no point in talking about the past, but he was right enough that it had no bearing on whatever they decided to do from now on. "That's good, then. The past stay in the past. Friends?" She reached out, offering her hand to shake like they were sealing a deal. Many things had happened between then and now, for good and bad, and she suspected it would take longer than one conversation to unpack how it had impacted and changed the Flood. Maea looked forward to it; being able to call on him for visits, adventures, quiet moments like these where they could simply... be. It felt good. Felt right, like she'd become unstuck and finally able to start moving again.

As he reiterated that he had changed, Maea nodded, accepting his word for it without question. "Several," she replied with a little laugh. "How's things with you and Ru? And what happened with you - you both got infected? How, why - are you alright?" Despite the light tone, genuine  concern laced through the words, and she started pulling on the grass again, absently taking her worry out on the plant life until he could reassure her.

Let not light see my black and deep desires

SUNJATA

look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death

Shifting to get a touch more comfortable where he’s laying in the grass beside her to sit up on an elbow, he watches her pale hand extend for a handshake, like this could start everything over. Taking it into his own scarred hand, she might notice the scar from his marriage to Phoebe is gone, replaced with a different line from his marriage with Nate, faded but still there as part of his Korofi tradition. “Friends.” Sunjata’s crooked smile lingers, shaking her hand, before pulling his hand away — conscious enough to know that his lingering touch might bring a negative sensation for her, given their past.

Hearing that she had several questions, Sunjata’s low laugh is accented as it is a bit breathy as he nods. “Good, now. Can’t really look at each other a lot which sucks, but hopefully it solves itself soon.” His nose wrinkles a touch as he puffs out a sigh, cheeks puffing out which makes the scar on his cheek pucker with the movement. “We’re good now. I got infected testing the Refuge to see if their powers worked. Turns out, it does.” HIs nose wrinkles and he flattens back into the grass. “Nobody knew about me for a long while, though. Took a lot to get me cleansed in the hot springs. Water magic 'n all that.” His scarred hand flutters with the gesture, like it had taken a lot in order to get him into the water because he was very much content to displace it rather than sit in it.

look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?