devils hide behind redemption

don't be cautious, don't be kind, you committed, i'm your crime

push my button anytime

Ah, the Outskirts. A place he’s only passed through either on his way out or somewhere else. But it looked a mess after LongNight, and he finds himself curious as to if anything had been left behind, hidden away, by the monsters in the night. He’s grateful for the sun on his face, for the chill in the air, and he breathes it deeply until the cold starts to devour his throat, ring in his teeth. Outside. The comfort is immense.

He still wears his furs, still hating the cold with every bit of his being, but at least the snow was gone and the chill seems to feel a bit more like salvation than anything else.

Steel eyes scout the crevices of misshapen rocks for anything of interest, watching as mud forms and settles and reforms again, a dark raise of his brow in quiet interest. He’s not sure whether it has some form of intelligence, quietly cursing himself at the absurdity of it. But he’s also not sure how it seems to move and reshape, flatten, twist and turn without anyone around to make it. And so he nears it, head tilting in quiet question, before he spots something within it’s grasp that it’s trying to form around.

It sort of looks like an egg?

Drawing nearer, he pulls his hands from his pockets and kneels beside the mud, poking at it with a stick that it seems to latch onto. And with his closeness, he realizes it is an egg of sorts, speckled with black among its opal hued shell. He disregards the stick in an attempt to grab onto the egg, feeling it wiggle beneath his fingers, before he tugs on it to loosen it surprisingly from the mud.

Splotches of the mud still remain on its shell, but as it sits in his hands, it continues to wiggle and move ever so slightly, before a slight crack begins to form along the top of it. He cradles it within his hands, sitting back on his legs, quiet interest as it begins to hatch and wondering what the fuck he's going to do with it when it does.

Melita

you got your finger on the trigger

but your trigger finger's mine

SuNJATA

MELITA

Her first discovery of the memory mud was out of pure amusement – striking her staff into random puddles on an outward stroll, simply getting away from clustered halls and rancorous edges, striving to find something suitable to relax into repose. Her limbs were fluid and energetic, exuberant efforts skipping along spring-strewn paths, examining several portions of earth that would require cleaning, utilizing her weapon like a walking stick, when it simply sunk.

The youth’s head twisted downwards, and watched as the mud appeared to interact with her munitions, spiraling along its handle, witnessing in rapt fascination as it appeared to have a (simple) mind of its own. She poked it once or twice, before flinging her staff and watching the mud droplets cascade into the air, raining grime; laughing all the more as the watery ground seemed to fold back together, starting anew. “Huh,” she murmured, mostly to Fangorn, who meandered around it, close but not close enough to be suddenly sunken into its depths. Melita shrugged and carried on, looking along the distance – when her eyes pinpointed on a tall, familiar form.

“Sunjata!” She cried across the landscape, waving, hooting, and hollering, a loud din along plains and strangled trees with new saplings in tow; steps springing once more as she tread closer and closer, fast and fervent, strides adept at quick, swift maneuvers. Fangorn kept up as best he could, leaping and launching over softer ground. “Have you seen this mud-,” the girl didn’t finish, tilting her head in eager curiosity, as he unearthed something from the aforementioned soil.

An egg.

Some distant memory of crackling lightning and massive thunder boomed against her heart, and she said nothing at first, inching closer and closer, until she was peeking over his arm. “What did you find?” was a whisper amongst an ebullient, exuberant, exultant grin.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

don't be cautious, don't be kind, you committed, i'm your crime

push my button anytime

“Sunjata!” A cry from across the fields, a familiar lilt to the shout that has him angling his head toward her, still unable to stand from the mud with the trapped egg. He offers her a bright smile and small wave, until she’s darting across the fields through the very same strange mud, uttering an announcement of it, before her eyes are trapped on the egg within his hand.

“It appears to have latched onto it, the mud that is.” He informs her, shifting in his position a bit so she can see better as it cracks and wiggles, splotches of mud stuck to the shell while the rest of the memory mud beneath starts to reform into something that somewhat looks like a hand. And he withdraws the egg from it just enough to place it, cradled between his hands, between Melita and himself.

“And I think it’s an egg? It’s… Hatching.” Steel eyes drift up from the cracks that form wider in the shell, spiderwebbing out while whatever is inside it begins to try and pop out. He doesn’t know what they’ll find, but he gives her an almost conspiratorial grin before the top of the egg breaks off, the piece of the shell falls to the ground and shatters.

The rest of the shell begins to fall away, leaving behind a slick dark body that appears somewhat canine-like, a fluffy tail if it were dry, paired with black and white wings that sheen with an iridescent teal/blue hue. “What is that?” He asks, having never seen a griffin before, but he can feel this strange sensation in the back of his mind and his brows furrow, moving the creature into one hand while his other lifts to try and remove some of the pieces of the egg.

Suddenly, the griffin lashes out slightly, sharp tiny teeth digging into his knuckle to Sunjata’s surprise. “Ah fuck, looks like we’ve got a wannabe haai here.” Rumbling with a frown, eyes lift to Melita in silent question. What does he do with it?

---

haai - shark

you got your finger on the trigger

but your trigger finger's mine

SuNJATA

MELITA

She’d done this before too, in another time, another world, where lightning struck and thunderclouds roared, a distant, petulant thing stuck within reflective puddles and kingdoms she could never find again. The honeybee child watched with great enthusiasm, a cultivated, nuanced reverence savored in quiet platitudes when necessary, head tucked over his arm, eyes riveted upon the scene. Fangorn nestled against her ankles below, and she picked him up so he could bear witness too. Her gaze witnessed the ample wiggling, the cracking, the fissures, the promise of something thriving, arriving, out of the angles and shambles, out of the mud sticking to its quandaries. “Definitely,” she whispered, brief experiences still teaching her something. An egg; not clean or clear, but keen on relinquishing its hold. Curiosity held onto the scene with absolute inquiry, muffled little gasps when splits and ruptures were more apparent, emboldened, hastened into the void.

What eventually forced its way out into the sovereignty wasn’t wholly expected; though the entangled roots of her smile informed him it was worth savoring. “A griffin!” She whispered, still reverent and slightly cautious, backing a step away so Sunjata could bond, could understand, could note the clarity segmenting between them. Her stare fell to its wings, to its canine aperture, to its fluffy structure, detailed in beatific blends of colors – suiting, to be paired with an Attuned so readily in blue. She’d been a multitude of them amidst Helovia and the Rift, their generous constituents always eager and ready to serve; like Jigano’s Isuma. “Congratulations. Looks like you’ve got yourself a companion.” Then she patted his shoulder, bright and brilliant grin still varnished, listening to the gasp of surprise when the newborn bit down – barely withholding the ring of laughter.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

don't be cautious, don't be kind, you committed, i'm your crime

push my button anytime

Had he gotten the memories of his time in Helovia, he’d recall a very similar circumstance — only a crocodile replaces the griffin in that other timeline, other version of himself. Still, he doesn’t, and the experience is entirely new to him, with that annoyance pining in the back of his mind as Melita mentions what it is as soon as it’s free from its shell. A griffin, something he’s never quite seen before. Canine and avian, a mixture that’s unique and has the creature not bitten him immediately, he would have inquired more about the creature.

She backs away a step and his gaze leaves the slight red marks on his knuckle and the entirely smug griffin, pining into his mind again with the approval of the Korofi word, despite him entirely not understanding any of what is going on. As Melita nears, soft humor and amusement alight in her tone, patting his shoulder he finally stands from the mud with the tiny creature in his hands as it spreads its iridescent wings. “A companion? What does that mean?” He asks her, before his gaze drifts to Fangorn.

“Wait… So she’s like Fangorn then?” He asks quietly, a pet for instance, and a feeling of approval and acknowledgement bombards his mind with enough of a force to make him wince slightly. Gritting his teeth he looks back to the griffin with a small amount of frustration. “Can you feel them? Like, in your mind?” He thinks he’s going crazy, but he can’t help the questions as Haai continues to bombard his senses with all entirely new experiences for her.

you got your finger on the trigger

but your trigger finger's mine

SuNJATA

MELITA

The unknown was a bewildering stature, especially if it harpooned and shaped its way as dual minds; set in stone, in new, foreign embraces, trusted and secure but confusing, bewildering, all the same. “You’re bonded.” Deeper and intrinsic, between veins and marrow, tissue and skin, flesh and bone. She smiled at first, slightly teasing, prolonging the inevitable, the explanation, the bizarre correlation with human and animal – designated to be woven and intertwined, hearts and craniums shared, beating the same drum, the same tendencies, the same heartaches, the same wounds and scars. Fangorn growled in approval at the notion, while her eyes drifted onto the newfound griffin, with its teeth and daring, with its boldness and audacity, perfection in the roots of wings and fangs. She nodded at the further insinuations, at the way Sunjata meandered in the platitude.

“Yes!” Her head tilted, watching, waiting, for the understanding, the comprehension, to sink in. “Sometimes their emotions, or their thoughts. You’ll be connected for life.” She hummed a little, under her breath, a satisfied, happy, bubbly tune, reserved for those grand, beatific moments, contentment, satisfaction still hovering over and around his shoulder to wait, to ponder, to mull over the situation. The youth wasn’t certain if he was pleased, confused, or simply trying to contemplate it all, never a situation to be eased into – swift and coursing, strong and befuddling, overwhelming and shocking even in the most accepting of minds.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

don't be cautious, don't be kind, you committed, i'm your crime

push my button anytime

Bonded? The term flits through his mind as his face scrunches up, focusing on the black and white canine-esque griffin that seems content now that she’s made her place. The pining in the back of his head remains, stronger still, and he relents against his insistence to stop it. It’s a flood of emotion, of new experiences, of the feeling of everything being so bright in comparison to where the griffin had come from, the darkness beneath the shell of the egg.

“Well.” He begins to say before Haai begins to inspect Melita, bright green eyes lingering on the fiery haired girl with a slight wag of her tail. And while Sunjata runs through the options, the feelings he sighs slightly but there’s a small amount of amusement that lingers beyond it. “Mmm, well I hope she’s ready for it.” A quiet rumble of an admission, that his life wasn’t quite the most respectable of lives, but he lived it happily and contently, and at the end of the day that’s all he could ask for.

He stands, after a moment, pushing away the mud as he focuses back on Melita with Haai in his palms. “Do you want to hold her? I think she likes the name Haai, which is somewhat ridiculous since it means shark, but whatever.” There’s amusement, but she doesn’t seem to feel like she wants to bite anyone else, and besides she’s preening under the attention of the girl’s gaze.

you got your finger on the trigger

but your trigger finger's mine

SuNJATA

MELITA

The honeybee youth could recall those same moments; when she’d found the little gourd in the shadows, in the midst, a leftover, a stray, a survivor like her, living on despite the rest of its brethren being slaughtered, as she lifted her fingers, fresh meat in her grasp, a gentle coaxing for one too savage. Overwhelming, maybe overbearing, new nuances and foreign dialects, comprised, eventually, into their singular selves; one and the same, a blending of backgrounds, histories, and antics – her wild, savage, untamed smile said it all. Even if she didn’t know half of the things he’d done; it really didn’t matter in the end, the little griffin would beckon, twist, and turn from within, and Sunjata would either linger on those throes or accept them. The well hovered there, and she waited for something – for him to bristle or condemn, for him to shrug or frown, for him to merely take it on, dream a little more out in the open, in sacred ethers and tethers, lines meant to be consecrated and anointed, not disheveled, not disparaged. At the admission, at the hushed rumble, at the modicum of acceptance, her grin grew a little cheekier, a little more hopeful, that perhaps all wouldn’t be for naught. "It's okay," she ushered and whispered, comfort in the sanctity of fledgling bonds. "It's different, but it'll be okay."

The notion of holding onto the precious little thing drew an excited squeal from her throat, and while Fangorn clustered around her ankles, as curious as his companion, the youth extended her hands, her arms out to cherish. “Absolutely!” Even the name, Korofi again, Haai, shark enamel and fangs, and she wondered about teeth, about maws stretching open and wide to protect, to defend, to maul, and massacre, the lightest of chuckles on her breath. “She’ll grow into it,” she winked and assured – understood how mighty things developed, how they prospered, how they blossomed, how they bloomed.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

don't be cautious, don't be kind, you committed, i'm your crime

push my button anytime

Her reassurance is surprisingly helpful, despite his growing frustration. She’s going to be a nightmare, he can already tell, and if he’s being honest he’s really not looking forward to it. But for the time being, he appreciates that Melita is there, that she’s experienced with it, that she can shed light on what it’s like so he doesn’t have to fumble around trying to figure out how it all works. And Haai? She’s far too intrigued by Melita, more so as the squeal leaves the fiery haired girl, and Sunjata can’t help the quiet chuckle that leaves his throat.

He finds himself giving a mental pang toward Haai, to ensure the creature doesn’t bite the poor girl. But she’s far more well received than he had been, and crawls onto Melita’s hands, wings spread as she sniffs and inspects, tail wagging beneath small tailfeathers that sprout. Sunjata takes a moment to inspect his hand before he focuses on Melita with a soft smile. “She definitely likes you.” He offers, feeling the sense of amazement and amusement that drifts from his companion.

Melita assures him that she’ll grow into her name and he actually gives a somewhat throaty laugh at that. “Gods help us.” Perhaps it’s a bit dramatic, but as Haai inspects Melita, bright eyes scouring the youth’s face and nose sniffing at hands, he can’t help but to smile fondly at the sight. “It’s a good thing we’re remaking the bar, seeing as she’ll probably get me to drink a bit more.” He announces with his own playful wink.

you got your finger on the trigger

but your trigger finger's mine

SuNJATA

MELITA

Instantly enamored, the youth took the fledgling griffin into her arms, settling down along the ground so the beast has a chance to either rampage along her lap or remain burrowed in her sanction – Fangorn following suit, offering quiet chirps, hisses, and growls by way of vampire gourd greetings. Her eyes took to the beautiful, outspread wings, the bounding, buoyant tail expressing anything and everything, no need for a bond to contemplate the meaning, a delicate, warm smile embracing her features all the more. Carefully, she stroked the youth’s back, pats and scratches and anything else requested; humming her deliberate song again, a lithe whisper on the breeze. She suddenly wished she had some meat in her pockets, some sort of snack to offer and extend to the little shark, gaze only segmenting back to Sunjata for an instant. “I like her. She has spunk. Spirit.” Her fingers went under the griffin’s chin for more scratches. Perhaps Haai would be exactly what the man needed, another one at his side, capable of rendering the world into ashes, or glory, whichever moment, magic, was preferred.

“I think you’ll appreciate it when she’s older.” When she could protect. When she could provoke. When she could guard. When they could come together and be more; a sum of parts and wholes. Making sure not to ignore her own bonded, the girl’s hands roamed away momentarily from Haai, and back to Fangorn, inviting the pumpkin into their little circle of long, lanky limbs. “With a companion, you’ll never be alone.” Because they filled a void, an abyss, and never strayed from those angles, from those worlds, from those whims.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

don't be cautious, don't be kind, you committed, i'm your crime

push my button anytime

He watches as Melita takes the griffin into her arms, and Sunjata finds the frustration and worry start to ease as Haai settles for a brief moment. It doesn’t last long, however, as the griffin paws at one of Melita’s legs, before turning and pouncing to the other until she begins to run circles around Melita’s lap.

A rumble of a chuckle leaves him as he sits across from Melita, watching the antics of his newfound feathered friend as Fangorn begins to inspect her too. At Melita’s praise, Sunjata’s nose wrinkles slightly. “She’s alright.” He finally concedes, though his words are laced with far more amusement than they once had. But he offers a quiet nod to her when she mentions that he’ll appreciate it more when she’s older. A thought that somewhat frightens him, bonded for life of all things. But regardless, he can’t change it.

Instead, he watches while Haai approaches Fangorn, a paw reaching up to press against the gourds forehead with a bright canine smile, tongue lolling out and tiny sharp canine teeth on full display. He watches it while Melita’s next words hit him and his smile fades slightly before he nods quietly. “That’s true.” He rumbles quietly, at a loss for words.

you got your finger on the trigger

but your trigger finger's mine

SuNJATA

MELITA

The excitement and ebullience throughout the little griffin only instigated more rapture, more reverence, more giggle fits, her hands instinctively chasing after the little thing’s movements, as if it on the hunt and provoking further mayhem. “Oh, she’s better than all right.” Half-tempted to lift the babe to her features just to stare into her innocent eyes, her gaze locked onto the unfolding, ensuring antics thereafter. A protective threshold took over her chest for half a second as a paw came to press against Fangorn’s forehead, but when the gourd did nothing but sniff, but snort, but hiss and grumble in play, than her breath eased, the tension no longer held. The vampire gourd did much of the same, a proud, prominent display of its fangs in full endeavors and unleashed havoc rampaged into the scene, leaning forward on a rather ghoulish smile.

Her gaze meandered back to Sunjata, who’d grown quiet, any designation of a smile somehow faded. Had she caused it? Her mind cycled back to prior words, about never being alone, pondering if that had orchestrated the slip and slide of amusement; the hushed platitudes taking its place. Maybe it’d been too much – and she hadn’t meant it in that way.

Just that she knew what it meant to be alone, drifting in the shadows.

Just that he didn’t have to be that way anymore, not with little sharks and fangs and teeth.

Her head hung too, a little quieter, following the patterns, wondering why it had become so morose. It should’ve been a celebratory occasion, a happy, content, accord. “Sorry,” for what, she’d really not sure.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

don't be cautious, don't be kind, you committed, i'm your crime

push my button anytime

Haai appreciates the giggles, full of immense energy as she darts around much to Sunjata’s chagrin. And when Melita mentions she’s better than all right, he snorts and shakes his head. “Oh, don’t fill her head with anything.” He rumbles in amusement, wiping the mud from his hands to lean forward and watch the interaction between companion and companion.

While Melita holds her breath, Sunjata holds his too. But he releases it in a quiet sigh as the gourd grows playful, a teethy grin and playfulness and grumble, Haai’s tail begins to wiggle excitedly – a yelp of attention given toward the gourd before the tiny griffin hops off of Melita’s lap and aims to try and have Fangorn chase her in a game of tag.

He doesn’t realize he’s grown solemn until Melita apologizes, and his steel gaze lifts toward hers with a soft smile gracing them. “Hey, no, don’t apologize.” He doesn’t know what she has to be sorry for. It was a kind suggestion, it just… Hit a little too close to reality sometimes. And he knows she feels that way too, having heard the story of Helovia in the end. He lifts his knees up to rest his arms against them and lean toward her to watch their companions, feeling the brightness from Haai dull out the shadows that have grown taller. “We won’t be alone, though. If not for them, but you’ve got me.” He says, tilting his head toward her with a roguish smile.

you got your finger on the trigger

but your trigger finger's mine

SuNJATA

MELITA

Out of defiance, the youth sanctioned a devilish, Cheshire grin, eyes narrowing briefly as she eyed the griffin and its counterpart. “Maybe I’ll fill it with everything!” Everything beautiful and wild and free, savage and untamed and barbaric, so there was always something radiant and divine and potent, a powerful surge in Sunjata’s wake, a beatific presence he could always lean into and upon.

Watching the vampire gourd chase after the griffin wasn’t exactly the most elegant of motions – difficult to have a refined gait when one had no legs – but Fangorn managed to bound and leap and assail to the best of his abilities. Melita didn’t even bother to hide her laughter, allowing it to flow in waves as they tagged and pressed, everything innocent, juvenile, and somewhat senseless, what all fledgling things should have when they were young, unaware, and ignorant, before being tethered to a multitude of enamel and lacquer, harmed and carved upon.

The solemn ventures spread though, and she hadn’t meant it, nothing deliberate in her intentions, but still there, residing in the air just the same. How like her, to note something along impulsive tongues, not drag it across her teeth first, but allow it to pervade and persist without thought. Her eyes flickered downward, the slightest wrinkle to her nose caught, then gone in an instant, fighting over the contortions of her own stupidity. But the you’ve got me hit hard too, and for some apprehensive moment she could conjure all the ghosts of her past, all the wraiths, all the phantoms, all the specters and family and friends, those she’d sworn to protect and defend and shield - gone. Maybe because she’d been inadequate. Maybe because she hadn’t been enough. Maybe because each world was crueler than the last. “You’ve got me too,” the girl proclaimed, smile edging its way back, but then wondered, pondered, if it mattered – if her efforts were worth anything, if some day, she’d fail him too.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight