dancing after death

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

The headache slowly begins to go away, painful inch by painful inch. There’s the full ache of it that remains, even still as she pauses and he watches her go and close the curtains until the room is dark, and he suddenly wishes for the eyes of his panther form, to see better in the night. But nothing comes, and instead he remains silent until she begins to work on his clenched jaw.

She tells him to stop and he reluctantly obliges, releasing his jaw tension slightly at first, then loosening it at the end. It’s a wonder he doesn’t grind his teeth in his sleep, at the end of the day, but regardless he follows her instructions, eyes shut against the darkness and the beginning of relief. “Which oils are you using this time?” He finally asks, something to take his mind off of what was happening.

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth

phoebe Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and annoint you ”Peppermint, Eucalyptus, and Ginger, for the hangover.” she said softly, even as she paused to apply a few new oils to her fingertips. These she applied closer to his nose, so they were easier for him to breathe in, as well as along his sternum and collarbone. ”Lemon and lavender for relaxation.” she said, returning to massaging his head. As she worked she quietly glanced around the little room, thinking what else she could do to help. ”I am going to bring you an incense burner so you can get some of this into the air too. It will help you.” she said softly. Not to mention it would make the place a little bit homier.

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

He offers her a quiet hum of acknowledgement at the ingredients, recalling the peppermint and the lavender — how she typically made things using at least the lavender when it came to smells and relaxing scents. But he doesn’t comment on it as her fingertips drift from his head, along the tattooed collarbones and his sternum, delicately attuned to where her hands are going.

But she lifts them again, telling him she’s going to bring an incense burner and he hums to that. “I don’t typically spend much of my time here. The front part is going to be the new bar but that’s mostly it. These are just the extra rooms.” He offers, not telling her where he’s staying, but why she probably thought it was a bit dull, a bit boring in comparison. At least it was more interesting than the room he’d grown up in.

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth

phoebe Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and annoint you ”Well you clearly spend plenty of time at the bar.” she joked with a light laugh as she ran her thumbs over his brows and cheeks bones. ”Will the tavern also be an inn then, with these extra rooms?” she asked curiously. Frey knew they needed one. But that he didn’t follow it up with any indication of where he had been staying was troubling to her. So of course she had to ask. ”Where have you been staying if not here then?” she asked, genuinely curious if not a bit worried. Considering his self-destructive tendencies when upset, her mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

“Well, yeah.” He rumbles in response to her. It was his usual haunt, at least in Korofi. He hadn’t spent much time there while here, however, until LongNight happened. And with the Rathskeller being gone, he wasn’t sure if anyone else would recreate it – at least he has some experience with the functionality and need of the bar. Still, she questions him, and he closes his eyes again – eyelashes fluttering against her fingers as she runs her thumbs over his brows and cheekbones. “That’s the plan.” He offers quietly before continuing. “Melita is going to help me make one of the walls a sort of memorial, too.” That way the bar has plenty to offer for any and everyone. “You’re welcome to put something there for Emmett if you’d like to.”

He grows quiet again briefly, before explaining that he doesn’t live in this room per say, but somewhere else. And he can sense a bit of worry in her tone at the question, but he passes it off. “A couple doors down.” He shrugs, it’s not true… Really, mostly because he’d been staying in the backyard of sorts, the hidden part of his Guild. “This house used to be Lucas’. I just thought it’d be a good spot for the bar.” And that was the only explanation he really needed to give, he thinks.

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth

phoebe Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and annoint you Phoebe quietly worked her fingers back around his head, over his ears, and down to the base of his skull where it met his neck. Using the weight of his head to apply the pressure, she pressed her thumbs against pressure points there to help relieve some of the pain and stress from his hangover. ”A memorial, an inn, and a tavern…what an interesting business you’ve got planned.” she said with a soft smile. ”Are you going to name it the Everything But the Kitchen Sink Saloon?” she added with a light laugh. At the thought of putting up something for Emmett though, she nodded a little. ”And my babies.” she added quietly, hardly more than a whisper. She didn’t talk about the grief she still felt over those losses, opting instead to keep her mourning to herself usually. That he was staying somewhere a few doors down was enough for her, and she felt some relief that he wasn’t sleeping out in the bushes somewhere. ”Did you inherit all of Lucas’s things when he died?” she asked curiously.

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

She continues to massage the top of his neck, along his ears, her fingers applying enough of a pressure that he sighs lightly, her comment managing to spark a slight half smile on his face for a half second. “VlamVloed.” He rumbles to her, accented in his native tongue. That was the name, that was what he wanted to call it, regardless if the flame wasn’t coming back. But it would be a combination of everything, places for people to stay, places for remembering. The rebellion tavern had been much like that in a sense. They’d just taken it here.

But the smile fades as she nods, commenting about her children so quietly that he reaches up with a hand to rest along her cheek, his thumb rubbing against her cheekbone briefly, steel eyes trying to scan her face in the dark. “Well, one was mine too.” He says equally as quietly, removing his hand back to his side before he explains where he’s been staying. A lie, but a good enough one that she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she comments on inheritance and he snorts to that. “No. Nobody was using his house though, and it’s a fairly nice one all things considered.” He admits. “Just taking advantage of what’s already there.”

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth

phoebe Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and annoint you ”VlamVloed…what does that mean?” she asked quietly, managing to say the word correctly from what she remembered of the language. He had taught her enough words for her to get a hang of pronunciation at least. His hand on her cheek surprised her though, and she glanced at him curiously. It was tender, intimate – something she certainly didn’t expect him to do given their history and his mourning of Lusea. But when he followed it up it came together, and her eyes looked down again. Even in a room with more light he likely wouldn’t be able to make out much on her expression, but she was definitely not happy or content. And knowing her wants out of life, it wouldn’t be hard to infer her sorrow. ”Yes….but I am sure you aren’t as sad about it as I am.” she added quietly – not in a disapproving way but simply stating fact. Sunjata didn’t want children, at least no time soon, so his mourning of the child they’d almost had was likely not as keenly felt as it was for her. At least, that was her assumption anyways. ”It is definitely suitable to be what you want it to be, I’ll give you that.” she said with a small smile. ”But you ought to make these rooms a little more homey before you open up.” she suggested.

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

“Flame and Flood.” He translates easily, she should know it’d be more of a memorial type of bar now. It originally hadn’t been that way, but it had been their nicknames in Korofi, their alias of sorts, a piece of home brought to Caido. Now it was just his, and he didn’t plan on changing the name. It would remain the same, just as initially intended.

Her next set of words don’t exactly comfort him, as his hand drops from her cheek and she looks down. “Why do you think that?” He asks quietly, a rumble of a question. Granted nothing had come of it, they hadn’t known, but didn’t he tell her that if it had all worked out, if the child had been born, he would have been there? “I don’t want kids, sure. But things happen. I wouldn’t have just pretended it wasn’t mine and avoided responsibilities.” Surprisingly his lip curls up slightly in a half smile. “I'm not heartless.”

Her next comment causes him to nod slightly, the dull ache fading as he breathes in the peppermint and sighs quietly. “It’s not close to being ready to open yet, to be honest.” He tilts his head back slightly to look at the ceiling of the room, all the plans and thoughts in his mind swirling around the possibilities.

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth

phoebe Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and annoint you She smiled a little as he revealed the meaning of the name, and she nodded a bit. ”Very fitting.” she said softly. Of course she knew what it was referencing, but she didn’t comment on it. If it was a tavern with a memorial wall, all the more reason that the name should be a memorial to Lusea. Honeyed eyes flicked up to his as he spoke, apparently confused by her words. Phoebe smiled the tiniest bit and shook her head. ”I know you’re not heartless.” she said quietly. She didn’t think that he would have left her over it. She didn’t think he would’ve been a bad or absent father had she not miscarried from the blight. ”But…do you miss them? Do you think about them and wish they were here?” she asked quietly. That was the difference between her feelings towards their child that would never be, and his. She nodded in agreement, knowing the place wasn’t yet fit for being an active business place. ”Well, if you need help, let me know.” she offered.

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

He agrees with her, that it was a fitting tribute, a fitting name. It rolled off of his tongue easily enough, and even Phoebe had managed to say it almost flawlessly with the knowledge she had of his language. With time, given time, it shouldn’t be a problem. But he stills soon after as her eyes flick to hers, a dark brow lifting as she comments that she knows he’s not heartless. Good. He might want to come off as it at times, but that didn’t mean he absolutely was.

But her question gives him pause, and he focuses on her face again as he thinks of how to answer. He doesn’t know what to think about the child with Emmett, but there’s a part of him that does think about the possibility of the child with Phoebe, about what life would have been like had they been born. But he doesn’t know exactly how to say it, and so he inhales deeply, breathing in the peppermint and lavender and sighs quietly. “Things would be very different. But there are times, yes, where I think about them.” He offers quietly. “I say I’d make a terrible father, but I doubt I would in comparison to my own.” An honest answer, a half crooked smile crossing his face at that.

“Sometimes I do miss what we missed out on.” But that didn’t mean he wanted to do it again. It didn’t mean that he wanted to open up to it with the way things were now. He had become so careful since then, so careful, in order to prevent it from happening. “And I’m sorry that it happened to you again.” She hadn’t deserved it, in the end. However much he probably did, she didn’t in his eyes.

A small quiet nod is given to her in response to her offer of help, unsure of what she could do but filing it away for later, a just in case.

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth

phoebe Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and annoint you Phoebe did not expect Jata’s response to her questions. Not even a little bit. Not even in her wildest dreams would she have possibly fathomed his response. That he did think about what life would have been like, that he did miss what they had missed out on; she didn’t know how to take it honestly. For a moment she just stared, but then bit her lip as she looked back down. Even in the darkness, the tears that rose in her eyes were likely obvious. ”I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” she said quietly, pulling her hands back so she could wipe at her eyes. ”And for the record, I think you would be a very good father.” she added softly. That she had never doubted for a second. She simply shrugged at his apology. ”It isn’t your fault. Not anyone’s really, except my own…and the Voice.” she said, if a bit bitterly. She had miscarried Emmett’s child naturally. Jata’s…she likely would have carried to term were it not for the blight spread by the Voice.

now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat

it's a bearable bruise on your conscious

He doesn’t expect her to take his answers the way she does, though after knowing her for as long as he did, he probably should have. She stills, and he watches her as she looks down, the shining glint of a light reflecting from the tears that spring to her eyes. “Hey.” He says softly, reaching for her to pull her into a hug. “You never asked before.” He says softly after a moment. But when she tells him that he would be a good father, he snorts lightly. “Can’t be worse than mine. Not necessarily good, but better.” That’s what he thought, at least.

Not that he wanted to test his theory, but it was there in the chance it happened.

Her shrug at his apology and the offer of her own causes a small frown to cross his face. “We can just blame it on the Voice.” He rumbles, the flickering of a small smile. “Wasn’t your fault either. I was being reckless to have to put you through it.” He tells her gently, honestly.

but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?

i am the way and the life in the best looking truth

phoebe Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you, and annoint you He would find no resistance in pulling her to him. It was natural, comfortable, familiar. Her face found its usual place in the crook of his neck, her form snug to his side and arms wrapping around him as if of their own will. ”I didn’t think I needed to ask but apparently I was wrong.” she said quietly, sniffling a bit as she tried to pull herself together, comforted by his embrace. She had dealt with this grief mostly alone, and it was perhaps because of that that she was so insistent on helping Jata as he mourned Lusea. ”No, you would be a good father. I know it.” she sad softly, confident in that. She wouldn’t argue about blaming it on the Voice, more than happy to blame most things on the goddess that had attacked them all with blight. But…”We were both reckless.” she said quietly, not letting him shoulder that blame alone.