[SE] at the first cringe of morning

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

Unsure when exactly to expect Sunjata on his trip towards Halo, Isla is nonetheless keeping busy. And with a rare morning to herself - no clinic duties, no supply runs, and with Everest away tending to his own work - she finds herself baking, of all things. She doesn't know whether it's the sudden reminder of the Flood that makes her choose blackerries, or whether it's just because the little garden at the back of the clinic is bursting with them as Leafchange ticks over to Deepfrost; either way, she has them in abundance, and they need to be used.

Alas, what she excels at when it comes to surgeries and diagnoses, Isla is only average at in cooking and baking, and while she's certain it will taste fine in the end, it probably isn't going to be the prettiest cobbler going. And she's having fun with it besides - the smell of blackberries and sugar has filled her little apartment above the clinic, her windows thrown open to let in the cool breeze (and let out any smoke should there be any).

Granted, the counter is a bit of a mess, something she's glad Ever isn't home to see, and there's more than one purplish stain on her apron and in her hair as she stirs the blackberry mixture, humming tunelessly (and badly) to herself.

SUNJATA

the flood

dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before

Deepfrost comes swiftly without much thought from the Flood – too busy trying to avoid the void and change his path from heading home to heading to Halo. The winds are cool and he may have better luck taking the skyship there than having to fly, so the next pitstop on his adventures out and about lead him directly to Torchline. To meet Isla. To figure out just how he was going to try and explain to her that he wasn’t losing his mind but something but horribly wrong with Everest.

Of course, he knows what’s wrong. He just doesn’t know how well she’ll take it. Or if she’ll even believe him. But he has to hope that his input mans something at the end of the day, right?

Otherwise, what’s it all for?

Torchline is warm in Deepfrost at least, something he finds he misses about it as he walks the familiar streets, greets those he’d often interacted with back when. But, as he finds that Isla is not at the clinic, the scent of blackberry cobbler coming from her home above it certainly guides him there. There is a moment of trying to hear if she’s alone before he knocks, taking a deep breath to steady himself and his slightly ruffled appearance, waiting for her to answer the door.

you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

The fact that Isla is humming ought to be an indication that the Remedy is by herself - as she'd admitted to Sunjata when they'd lived together at the House of Midnight, she can't hold a tune for toffee, and she wouldn't willingly subject another person to it. The knock at the door has the 'music' fading, and a moment later her soft footsteps herald her inevitable appearance. She's taken off the apron now, and though there's still a smudge of purple above her eyebrow and icing sugar in her hair, her pebble blue eyes light up at the sight of the Flood.

"Sunjata! It's good to see you - come in, please." All but ushering him into the apartment - the smell of blackberries and the kitchen counter aside, it's an open, airy and clean space - Isla clicks the door shut behind him before stepping in to greet him with a hug. It's been a long time, longer still since she'd visited the House, and to say that the Remedy is in a much better headspace is an understatement. So whilst the Flood might still be devastatingly handsome and Frey's chosen, Isla has no qualms any longer about hugging her friend, her arms closing around him easily.

"Long flight over?" she asks; it's better than you look rough or you seem tired, but nevertheless offers him a chance to speak if he needs one.

SUNJATA

the flood

dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before

It is a good indicator, if Sunjata had half of his mind to focus on it. If anything he focuses on trying to avoid anything that might have too many eyes, teeth, and tentacles for comfort as he waits outside her door. Her footsteps are a quick precursor for him to pull himself together and he straightens a touch as she opens the door so that the Flood might offer her a genuine and gentle smile – relieved to see that her face hasn’t warped and changed in the time it had taken between the trek to the Greatwood where he’d first noticed it and the trip after to the Grounds.

He feels as if he’s bouncing around everywhere – but this was important. Important he saw her and talked to her. “Thanks, Isla. Smells great in here.” His favorite, he once again notes as she suddenly hugs him – a surprise, to say the least, but one he didn’t know how much he needed. The tension floods from his tattooed shoulders as he winds his arms around her in turn, hugging her back.

It wasn’t really a long flight over, but he can see what she means in it, and as he withdraws from the hug he flashes her an apologetic smile. “It’s been.. A long few weeks I think. With the whole Flora thing and Ru.. and the fuckin’ Family.” His nose wrinkles as feathers start to sprout along his neck at the thought, he shakes his head. “I don’t wanna darken your doorstep more than I have to with my cloudiness.” He admits, flashing her a slightly smaller smile, none less crooked despite its size. "How've you been?" At least it'll feel more like a conversation than a crazed man offering doomsday advice.

you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

"I'm glad you think so - means I'm doing a good job of it," Isla says with a soft chuckle, giving him a tight squeeze and holding him for a moment or so before stepping back, gesturing to the half-assembled cobbler on the counter. "You're welcome to help me finish it off and put it in the oven, if you want?" she suggests. "I didn't know when you were visiting, so I was hoping it might be ready by the time you got here, but this is just as good I guess."

Nodding at his response - a long few weeks may as well be code for it's real fucking rough between the two of them at this point, and she steps back across to the open plan kitchen to put some coffee on, whether or not he wants to help with her baking endeavours. "You could never darken my doorstep unless it's with your lanky frame," she tells him affectionately as she takes down two mugs. "You're right, though. It was a bumpy Leafchange for a lot of people." Sunjata included, as it happens.

"I've been good, at least." No dramatics as far as she's aware, anyway. "I took a trip up to Stormbreak to see their infirmary, and I've mainly been holding the fort here. It's good to see the Greatwood open for visitors again, though."

SUNJATA

the flood

dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before

“You usually do.” Sunjata confirms with a warmer smile, relief smoothing out the tense wrinkle lines formed in his face and the way he’d held his shoulders. Letting his steel gaze drift to the half assembled cobbler, he steps closer, fully intending to help her finish it off. “Happy to help. Melita pretty much said my cooking was getting a little better.” Which, Isla would know, was a huge compliment all things considered.

Before he tries to help with any finishing up of the cobbler, he sheds his jacket and washes his hands, ensuring that anything lingering from the trip wouldn’t accidentally make it into the desserts as he huffs a soft laugh over his shoulder. “I’m not that lanky.” He complains, though the banter is easy. Familiar. As they always had been to one another.

But it’s the mention of Stormbreak that has him paling a touch, before he clears his throat and nods in response to the Greatwood. “Yeah. I’m glad the Greatwood is.” He agrees, purposefully ignoring the comment of Stormbreak for a few moments longer while he figures out how to bring it up.

He turns back toward the space she’s been making them, ready to be directed however she needs while she gets the coffees ready. “I’m glad you’ve been good. How’s Everest?” He asks, tiptoeing the line of his thoughts as he tries not to betray his paleness once again at bringing up the very much infected fuckin’ terrifying face sucker attuned.

you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

Waving him off - they both know her cooking skills are average at best and even more questionable when involving a wildcard like Sunjata - Isla sets the water to boiling and turns back to the cobbler. "Did she now?" she says of Melita with a raise of her brows, carefully transferring her blackberry mixture to the oven dish she plans to use to bake it in. "How long after eating did she say this, exactly? You gave it a little bit to check it didn't poison her?" Eyes glimmering with amusement, Isla gestures for Sunjata to take over the dough to drop on top of the mixture.

"I saw her the other day as well, actually. She seems to be doing really well," she says, letting the Flood get on with it and going back to their coffee. At his protests at not being lanky, she does glance over her shoulder to look him up and down with an appraising eye, humming skeptically. "Alright, fine," she says, "but whatever you are, you still cast quite a shadow." Given that he's almost a full foot taller than her, Isla feels as if she has a right to say as much.

Setting own a cup of coffee for him and, providing he's done with cobbler assembly, moving to put it in the oven, her expression softens considerably as he brings up Everest. "He's good," she says with a gentle nod. "Things are good. It... I never expected to have anything like this again."

SUNJATA

the flood

dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before

They had made strides together on their cooking, though she’d always been better than he had been. And he doesn’t even have the excuse of being Ascended to not particularly care all that much on how things tasted (or having to eat anyway). “Pretty sure. Though I don’t have a time frame I waited to see.” He admits a little gruffly, huffing a soft laugh as he does take over the dough to start crumbling it onto the mixture, ensuring to cover each delicious and beautiful bump of blackberry sweetness sat in the dish.

She is doing well, though, and his relationship with her has gotten better – another string of pride he’s harbored. Though he hasn’t seen her since he’d been cleansed, and with it the fact that he’d been so against going to the hotsprings before hand had certainly put a damper on things. Not enough, though, because perhaps his attempts in being honest and open with his niece to cling onto some amount of family left had been working out. Even if the honesty wasn’t something he was proud or happy about.

He snorts his agreement to her concession, though, because he does strike quite a shadow (not that he could often tell with how much he preferred to face the sun). Today, though, there’s a damper in when he asks about Everest. Because while he’s happy for her – so fucking happy, after everything he’d done to her – he’s worried about her too. He can tell that she isn’t infected, though, which is thankfully a boon. “I’m happy for you Isla. Really.” He says, moving to wash his hands and collect his mug of coffee as she places the cobbler into the oven, nudging her with his elbow when she straightens lightly so he can catch her attention. “I, uhm.. So the reason I wanted to talk to you face to face is… I think…” He swallows, looking away from her because he still can’t meet someone’s eyes when he tells them news that likely wouldn’t be well received. “He’s.. infected by the void. And… I think maybe you could try to convince him to get healed?” There’s a shadow that creeps into his steel gaze as he forces himself to look back at her as he continues to cradle the mug, seeming surprisingly small for all the gauntness to his features in how he hasn’t slept that great aside from a couple of days here and there where he didn’t have to worry about the creatures.

you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

"Well, she was alive when I saw her last, and I assume that was well after she visited you. So hopefully that is a good sign," Isla says with a grin, straightening up from the oven and setting a timer for the cobbler, before going to collect her own cup of coffee and leaning against the kitchen counter, accepting the nudge from Sunjata with a raise of an eyebrow. "And I am happy for you, Sunjata. I hear congratulations are in order besides," she tells him; and on any other day, she's sure they'd be able to devolve into talk of wedding plans and how things are doing at the House of Midnight. Not today though, as it happens.

A gentle frown shadows her expression as she notices the Flood glance away, reaching out to lay a hand on his forearm as if to tell him to take his time - only when the news comes, it's - gods - it's something she already knows. Wincing and letting her hand drop, now it's Isla's turn to speak directly to her cup of coffee. "I know," she says in a low, almost guilty voice. "I found out a while ago, actually. But he..." Fuck, how to even phrase it?

"Did you... had you ever met Everest before he was infected?" she asks. "He feels better for it, he says. It has helped him in a lot of ways - and he'd know what he'd lost if he was healed. He hasn't done anything to anyone as a result of the infection, as far as I know. He's just... himself. In a way he couldn't be before."

SUNJATA

the flood

dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before

“Definitely a good sign.” Sunjata agrees with a soft laugh and an easy smile – of course, before everything starts to go south. Even the congratulations is met with a smile that’s half genuine, half hollow as he recalls Hotaru’s condition, the lies he’d had to tell her in order to not break down. “Thanks, Isla.” He offers before he starts to dive in, deciding now is as good a time as any to rip the bandaid off.

So much so that as he takes a sip of the coffee after his explanation, to hear that she knows, has him choking on the coffee momentarily. Twisting away to cough and regain himself, his brows pinch as his reddened face finds hers with the further explanation, granting her the silence of him listening until she’s done.

And maybe, just maybe, he can play this off as not being wholly fucking insane. “I did, yeah.” He remembers the quiet boy Everest had been. Inquisitive, but without any of the social skills most had by his age. “I mean… Yeah but.. Isla. I was infected, up until recently.” He informs her, setting the cup of coffee down as a frown graces his features. “And it feels great, like you don’t have any worries about anything, but the second Dahlia asks you to do something? You just.. do it. There’s no questioning her. You don’t even think about it. And gods, after I was healed? I can see them. The infected. The Void. Their true faces.” He looks pale here, paler than even he’d looked in the midst of LongNight when the sun hadn’t graced his face in days. “I can see the echoes of it in my own reflections. It’s…” Mortifying.

you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door

Isla

"Careful--" Isla says automatically as Sunjata tries to inhale his coffee, the Remedy gently patting his back until he regains his composure. And he gives her the courtesy of hearing her out, so it only seems fair that she does the same, stepping back and setting down her mug, her arms folding as if to automatically make herself smaller. "Well, she hasn't asked him to do anything, by the seems of things," she says, rubbing at her forehead and shaking her head because she knows that's a poor excuse.

"You can see them, though?" Isla's hand drops and her expression melts into something almost sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Sunjata. But I... if that's what happens, when you're healed, do you really think that's something that's going to help Ever?" To have to see whatever it is that has the Flood going so awfully pale? "That he's going to be better off for being healed? Or is it just that it's better for us, so therefore that makes it the right thing to do?"

Sagging back against the counter, she shrugs her shoulders. "I won't take that decision from him. Whatever happens, I understand there are consequences. And I will talk to him again. But I won't make him go."

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

SUNJATA

the flood

dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before

There is some irony here that Sunjata does not see. Some that he won’t see until he has a chance to think about it more rationally. The very warnings he gives and stresses to the Remedy are not unlike warnings given to Sunjata when Nate had ascended to become the Voice’s demigod. Ones that Safrin had sprinkled into his ear, over becoming a vessel unable to deny any orders she gave.

At least unlike the Family, Sunjata had trusted the Voice a fair amount. Enough to refuse to fight in the war they pitted against one another. To choose peace and safety and life instead.

“She hasn’t so far, sure, but… what about when she does?” He asks, working his jaw, the muscles feathering under the beard grown in the time he’d gone from place to place without being able to shave or trim. Not that he’d cared. “I… know it probably wouldn’t help him. I get that. But… the void is all eyes and teeth and tentacles and it takes parts of you. Warps you. And you act fine because you feel fine. And then she summons you and you can’t tell her no because the only thing you want to do is keep her happy.” Feathers flare at his neck, filling in the tattoos and ruffling through his dark hair.

A frown forms, lopsided in the fact the muscle is damaged by the scar that bisects his cheek as he shakes his head. “He’s never going to go on his own, Isla. I refused until I was tricked and.. Remi had to force me into the water.” He sets the coffee mug down and ruffles a hand through his hair. “I obviously don’t want to ruin things for you, Isla, I promise. I just.. care. About you and Everest.” It just so happens to come with a doomsday warning. “Hotaru was infected too.. It’s why I’m on my way to Halo.” It hurts to admit, but not as much as the reason why he wasn’t there with her in the first place.

Why he couldn’t be around her.

you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door

Isla

It's the when rather than the if that has Isla's gaze dropping to their abandoned coffee mugs, the Remedy finding it suddenly very difficult to meet Sunjata's tired eyes. Wrinkling her nose as he continues - eyes and teeth and tentacles still does not sound like the sort of thing she wants to introduce Everest to, thanks - ultimately, although she can be morally grey at times, she has always skewed towards the light. "Sunny..." Letting out a shuddering sigh and sagging back against the counter, she holds herself more tightly, shaking her head.

"I didn't know about Hotaru. I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I... this will ruin his life. I'll be ruining his life and knowing it, if I trick him into going to that hotspring." She says it to make sure it's out in the open more than because she wants to make an excuse not to; and she won't just be messing things up for the aviator, but for herself as well by default. If not only because Ever likely won't be able to stand in the same room as her, then because he'll rightfully hate her for taking away the peace he's found.

"I'll not even be able to be there," she realises. Halo at Deepfrost for an Ancient is more blatantly deadly than at any other time of year, and she'd not have been able to go then either.

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

SUNJATA

the flood

dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before

As usual, Sunjata blunders it. Vocalization and explaining his thoughts aren’t easy for him, and he can often come off a bit too strong if he feels strongly about something. This is one of those times, and he doesn’t even have the attuned bond with her that he can utilize to show her the feelings he can’t explain.

As it stands, he ruins the mood of the day. His anxiety is palpable enough that the air is tense and sad, buoyed only by the sweet scent of the cobbler in the oven. And he watches, feeling more raw, as she winds her arms around herself, closing off as he’s known to do himself.

“I know…” He says slowly, stepping closer to her so that she isn’t alone. “But it doesn’t have to be you.. right? I could say something to Ronin or Remi?” He pauses because he doesn’t want to overstep. “I can take the blame, Isla.” And she wouldn’t have to be involved apart from knowing Ever was infected.

It would spare her from going to Halo. It would spare her from feeling as if she was tattling. “If you want me to, of course.” He trails off awkwardly, jaw working as his heart hurts for her, flashes of light flickering through his scars.

you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door