hallucinogenics

SuNjATA

the flood

He had made it a point to avoid Phoebe after arriving at the Temple, despite their recent interaction at the Atheneum. It had gone well that time, but with the recent events that have occurred (most notably the nonexistent Rathskeller, and a killer hangover) he can’t help but to try and end up being somewhat useful. Useful in terms of restocking the small amount of bandages that they were running low on in the main temple, and of course, bandaging his own side that still had a small amount of burn marks. Loren’s healing magic had worked well for his arms, but he hadn’t quite had a chance to heal the red flare on his side.

But it had also healed naturally enough since that whole ordeal, and at least now it didn’t bother him as much to wear a shirt over it. After passing by the shrine, a quiet prayer sent for Safrin from a man that hadn’t been religious until Caido had happened upon him, a small thanks for the panther form that had been unaware, unknown of, until the need to protect those within the Temple arrived, and he continued on his way toward the College, a place where he knew there were bandages. One, because Phoebe was there to stock it up, and two, he’d been there, quite often actually.

He shoves open the door lightly, shutting it behind him moving into the main area, steel eyes glancing around for the midwife should she be here – quietly hoping she’s in the Infirmary and he can just slink in and grab the bandages, perhaps leave a somewhat legible note based off the headache pounding in his temple, to tell her that it hadn’t been stolen or what not. “Phoebe?” He calls out, accented voice reverberating around the room, hoping for no response.

ain't no rest for the wicked

PHOEBE

Unfortunately for Jata, Phoebe was there. But it wasn’t just Phoebe. It was Phoebe and Pim and the three triplet boys. She sat near the fire with them, all three boys curled up on her lap and atop Pim, tear stains marring their round cheeks. The midwife gazed into the fire, staring off and away into unknown realms as her eyes glowed honey gold as they reflected the flame. She had no tear stains on her cheeks, which was in and of itself a miracle.

Frey had told her she wasn’t ready to be a mother, yet here she was, a mother of three small children with sharp immediacy.

She slowly turned her head upon hearing her name, face blank and expressionless as she caught Jata’s eye. She was surprised to see him, having thought he said he would be at the guildhall, but she didn’t have the brain capacity to wonder about it too much. Gently she repositioned the boys to rest fully against Pim, covering them in blankets as they rested. ”I thought you were going to be at the guildhall.” she said softly upon approaching him. But she didn’t seem herself. She was distant, lacking her usual warmth.

Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?

SuNjATA

the flood

Well, she’s here, he can see it as soon as the fire catches his eye. And of course, calling her name gives him her attention, her standing and wrapping a blanket around the boys. A slow approach, but he stills in letting his gunmetal eyes follow from the dragon and the boys toward Phoebe as she stops just before him. She doesn’t greet him, really, instead simply stating a fact that has him sighing lightly, arm raising to rest along the back of his neck, a roll of tattooed shoulders sent her way.

“Plans got changed.” He replies perhaps a bit gruffly, looking back down to her to notice the dullness compared to his own flushed complexion – flushed, still incredibly hungover, with small remnants of burn marks along his side, the smell of smoke encasing him. “I came to get some more bandages to restock the Temple… After the whole Rathskeller thing.” He pauses, uncertain if he should tell her that he was there.

At least he’d cleaned himself up before coming here – not covered in blood, not covered in soot, not covered in sweat. But he pauses, because he just can’t help himself, seeing how dim she is. “What happened?”

ain't no rest for the wicked

PHOEBE

Clearly plans had gotten changed. Normally she would have pried and asked more. But today she simply nodded, remaining silent in the wake of his ambiguity. Things that would have piqued her curiosity now seemed unnecessary. ”Ah, yes. I can get you some, and some burn creams as well.” she said softly, turning to walk with him towards one of the piles of supplies against the walls.

Of course he asked what was wrong with her though, and she paused, before turning to look back at him.

”Roana has died.” she said quietly, watching his face, wondering if he would remember who she was, and what the implications of her death would mean. What it meant that the boys were sleeping in a fitful pile against the overprotective dragon and that she looked as if the weight of worlds was crushing down upon her.

Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?

SuNjATA

the flood

He nods to her, following in step with her toward the supplies. At the mention of the burn creams, his head tilts slightly. “I might need some of the burn cream for myself.” He utters, shrugging it off slightly while she begins to sift through the supplies, until his question catches her off guard in a way – with the way she pauses and turns to him, something akin to such sorrow in those brown eyes that he has to look away from her.

But his gaze snaps back at what she tells him, eyes widening slightly, brows lifting. Of course he remembers her, the woman that been the first family of Phoebe’s he had met – and how well that entire ordeal went. He frowns, looking back over at the direction of the fire, where her boys sit, before sighing quietly to himself, managing to look back to her. “I’m sorry.” He offers. And he is, her family had died. He knew what it was like.

“Will the boys be staying with you, then?” He asks quietly, trying not to ask about how she died, considering she probably doesn’t want to talk about that, or really any of it. He’s not sure if she wants to talk to him about it. But he’s there, at least. To listen, relieve some of the burden.

ain't no rest for the wicked

PHOEBE

”You’re hurt?” she asked quietly, glancing up at him. He wasn’t acting hurt, and usually burns were too painful to pretend about. But maybe she just misunderstood. Everything seems so upside down all of a sudden. And after a few hours of being strong for the boys and for Remi, she was exhausted physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. She wasn’t sure how much of herself she had left to give.

But there really wasn’t anyone around for her to lean on either, was there?

”Thank you.” she said softly as he apologized, nodding at his next question. ”They’ve nowhere else to go. I am all they have left.” she said quietly.

Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?

SuNjATA

the flood

A small shrug is sent her way at her question. “I’m mostly okay. Loren healed my arms but, got burned on my side pretty well.” He offers her, lifting up the corner of his shirt to reveal the red splotches along his torso and hip that extend part of the way along his lower back, paired with a few scratches and bruises for other reasons, before he sets it down. He had been there, in the blaze, the moment it sparked.

At her acceptance of his apology, he nods to her gently, understanding that she’s all they have left. And he huffs a quiet sigh, frowning slightly as he rages against the thoughts in his mind. “You will raise them well, Phoebe. It’s... A lot to have on your shoulders. But you, out of anyone I know, can.” Because he had seen her motherly tendencies first hand, and these kids were part of her family already. But he can’t offer her much, a hug perhaps, but not much else.

ain't no rest for the wicked

PHOEBE

Phoebe looked at the burns, pointedly not looking at any of the other slightly suspicious injuries. ”Take off your shirt so I can put some cream and bandages on.” she said quietly, pulling out what she would need to do so. It was easy, even in her exhausted state, to go into work mode. It was familiar, natural, instinctive. It was a safe haven where she felt sure of herself and everything else.

”Will I though?” she said quietly, refusing to look up at him now, face expressionless, if perhaps on the verge of a frown. ”Frey told me recently they didn’t think I was ready to be a mother. Now I have three six-year olds to take care of. I’ve got no one to help me. I’ve not exactly fixed any of the issues I have that make me an unfit mother in the eyes of my god.” she said, sighing, looking down at the bandages in her hands. ”Loren was right when he told me that I’m pathetic and weak…I’m the reason every relationship I’ve had has failed. I’m whiney and needy and spineless…I…I will try my best of course but I can’t think of anyone worse right now that they could be with.” she said quietly. This was a vulnerable side she would never show her nephews. She would put on a happy face and be the comforting rock they needed…but right now they were asleep, and she felt like everything was crumbling.

Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?

SuNjATA

the flood

She tells him to take off his shirt, and he has half a mind to tell her no, that he doesn’t particularly want her to be the one to do it — or perhaps to see the tattoo along his chest, the rest of the bruising and scratches along his person. But he knows Phoebe well enough to know that he can’t particularly get away with it. And so he sighs lightly to himself, nodding, lifting the shirt from his torso and very pointedly not looking at her.

Gods his head is throbbing.

And she unleashes her thoughts onto him, while he tries to find a place to look that’s not directly at her while her hands work over the burns. At the mention of Loren, though, his gunmetal eyes flit to her face. “You’re young.” He offers unhelpfully, a small reminder to that. “And life has a way of ruining things. I’m sure even Frey couldn’t see what would happen. Perhaps this is your chance to prove to them you’re ready?” A positive outlook to keep his mind from drifting too far. “Loren’s had a lot going on, I wouldn’t particularly put too much stock into what he tells you.” He admits. The Summoner’s confidence levels had been wish-wash at best, when it came to love and intimacy as Sunjata had found out, despite not knowing the man too well. And he does his best to shrug it off.

ain't no rest for the wicked

PHOEBE

Phoebe applied the burn cream with a gentle touch, making sure to fully cover each bit of hurt skin. She cleaned off her hands on a damp rag before beginning to wrap his torso in bandages. Whatever he was worried about her seeing seemed to be lost on the midwife, present but not at the same time. ”These will need to be changed at least once a day until the burn heals more.” she said to him quietly, handing him an extra roll of bandages and a container with the cream in it.

”People keep telling me that – I’m young – like it is supposed to mean something.” she said quietly, looking down at her hands with a little bit of a glare. ”I’m young, so of course I’m spineless and weak? I’m young, so of course whatever unflattering description of me you’d like to pick is true? I’d like to point out that most of the people here are young but just because I don’t have a two at the beginning of my age I am somehow viewed as infantile, incapable, and unfit. No one takes me seriously. No one takes my problems seriously. It’s always, hush, hush, Phoebe, you’re just young. What does that even mean?” she said, clenching her hands into fists.

”Why is it that everything I want is so inconceivable to people because of my age? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to want to settle down. Old enough to raise three orphans but not old enough to have children of my own. Old enough to run a clinic, a college, befriend a god, fight off a pack of wolves, drag a half dead man through the snow and help nurse him back to health, fight off a squid monster and save people from a cave in, call upon a powerful fae to save a dying Undine but not old enough to be treated as anything more than an overgrown child?!” she said, fists shaking as her voice rose as loud as she dared with the boys sleeping not so far away. ”What else do I have to do that I am worthy of people’s respect? What more must I do for my emotions to be taken seriously instead of cast aside as weakness or infantile infatuation? How am I supposed to raise these three children when people think nothing more of me than ’She’s young’??”

Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?

SuNjATA

the flood

She bandages him up, and he grits his teeth slightly against the pressure of the fabric as it shifts over muscles and burns. “Thank you.” Grateful, but quiet, uncertain until his comment is taken a bit too far and his eyes flash toward her with his slight amount of confusion.

“It does mean something.” He replies at first, waiting, letting himself hold his tongue until she’s finished. She makes great points, but at the same time he realizes she’s not understanding. Shifting the supplies in his hands and the shirt he still hasn’t quite put on, he adjusts the bandage away from the still healing tattoo.

“It’s not to hush you. It’s not to say you’re too childish. It’s just…” He trails off, the exasperation in between his thoughts and throbbing head. “You’ve done so many accomplishments. But you’re also very emotional. It’s not, don’t take it as being a bad thing because it’s not. It’s just that it can be a lot.” A certain memory comes to mind, of a raised voice in his fear and her tears.

He reaches for her, to pull her away from the sleeping children as her voice raises in pitch and volume, though she’s still aware the boys are sleeping. “You always have so much weight on your shoulders Phoebe and you don’t get the chance to work through it. You seek out Frey for guidance, which is fine, but at the same time you need to figure out how to work it out yourself.” He pauses, biting down on his lip. “You have respect. I just think that sometimes you overreact.” There, he’s said it. He knows she won’t take it well, but he’s not going to leave until she understands. “You gave a small amount less of a shit while blighted and I think maybe you could learn something from that.”

ain't no rest for the wicked

PHOEBE

Emotional. It's a lot. Overreact. Give less of a shit.

She refused to look at him. Even as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the next room so she wouldn't disturb the sleeping boys, she kept her eyes trained on the ground. Her lips were pursed, brows were furrowed, but she did not tear up. Perhaps it was a small thing, but it was big progress for her. "When did caring deeply become a bad thing?" said quietly, still glaring at the ground. "Why does being open with my feelings have to be bad? Or taken as immaturity?" she said. Finally she looked up at him, brown gaze hard, lacking her familiar warmth still.

"I have weight on my shoulders because I claim it. Because I'm trying to make this place safer. Because I put my too-much emotions aside and get the job done. Do you know how hard it is to look children in the eye and tell them their mother is dead and explain what that means?" she said angrily. "And I don't have a Lusea or a Ronin like Remi or a Deimos like Amalia or a Rexanna like Bastien. I am doing this all pretty much on my own and all you and everyone cares about is that I'm young and have big emotions?! Gods forbid, anything but that!" she snapped, turned and storming away for a moment in anger. She crossed her arms, shaking head to toe.

But after a few moments of silence she finally turning back to him, still glaring, but more calm. "If you're going to base your point on me needing to care less then save your breath. If more people around here genuinely cared about everyone else and was willing to sacrifice bits of their selves to make the whole better, there would be so much less strife and struggle."

Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?

SuNjATA

the flood

Oh boy, this isn’t really at all what he means. And he inhales deeply as she begins to respond, steel eyes scanning her face for any shift, any tears, but all he finds is the frustration she quickly lets him know. “It’s not a bad thing.” He prolongs the vowels a bit more with his accent, but the enunciation is there. And as she looks up at him with hard brown eyes, a part of it reminds him of Korofi and he frowns in response. “It can be taken that way because sometimes it’s over small things, things that might seem big to you but are small given everything else.”

Why does he find himself explaining so much of everything to everyone nowadays?

Inhaling sharply as she shoots more answers his way, posing a question to him that has his eyes shadowing and him gritting his teeth. “Yes. I do.” And he had, when people had been captured or murdered in the resistance. Him and Lusea and her father had to be the ones to break the news. But as she continues, steps away from him, he watches her go, waiting to see if she leaves yet again.

But she doesn’t, and instead turns back to him as he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “That’s the thing, though. They don’t. So stop trying to hold it all up on your own. You can’t. Nobody can.” He takes a step toward her, unsure if he plans on pulling her back there with him. “Trust me when I tell you that it’s impossible to survive and bear that.” sure, he has Lusea, but at the same time much of his experiences were his alone to hold.

Maybe it makes him cold. Maybe it makes him unpredictable. But they didn’t call him the Flood for nothing.

ain't no rest for the wicked

PHOEBE

”That’s the thing though. They don’t.”

Perhaps it was supposed to be the capstone on his argument, perhaps it was supposed to sway her to see reason. But all It did was make her more adamantly dig her mental heels in. ”I can’t just make myself stop caring. Someone has to. That I’ve no one to help me…well…you’re not exactly in a position to judge me about that.” because part of the reason she was alone was because of him and his choices and his decisions. Part of the reason she was struggling through this on her own was because he didn’t pick her in the end.

Not that it was a judgement call, but a statement of fact.

”I’ve no choice but to survive either. So perhaps instead of making comments about my age you could simply recognize the difficult situation I am in for once.” she said with a sigh. Running a clinic and a college. Raising her three nephews. Alone. Certainly that would be difficult for anyone, not just someone her age.

Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?