you’re not bulletproof
Melita! <3
Sunjata Senzaok
Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 8
HAAI - Mythical - Griffin (Fire breath)
Played by: Skylark Offline
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#1
SuNJATA
the flood
In an effort to return to normal life, he’d woken rather early, gathered some supplies for the wall that Melita and him had talked about before everything had fallen apart, and sent a note for her to meet him here if she wanted to help. Perhaps it would help him, perhaps it would make him drink whatever was left at the bar in that present time. But she didn’t know, he hadn’t known how to tell her, and so perhaps this was the best way.

To create and hopefully try to move on.

He’s opened the blinds to let the light in while Haai makes a small nest in the corner on top of a bookshelf, and he finds Lusea’s lantern he had made for the last Festival of Lights, looking to the hues of flames and fire that he’d added among the bronze and blacks. Perhaps he should improvise and add a small wave to it, the last bit of her they had done together here in Caido.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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#2
MELITA
Eternally unaware, as if ignorance was another weapon she wielded, embedded and unfurled from her essence, upon receiving the note, she leapt to her weapons, to her bags, to anything else she thought necessary, and hurried about on her way. She had no idea about anything at all – had missed the Notice Board’s inferno damnation about Lusea’s disappearance, eluded to naught at all but a skip and a jump along the residences, maneuvering along the streets with her usual, ebullient, exuberant demeanor. Fangorn didn’t trail behind today, but in her arms instead, grumbling lowly every time she executed an unnecessary launch over a puddle, the hum and tune along her tongue ensuring she never heard the complaints.

Always eager to help, the youth knocked only once to announce her presence, before striding, gliding right in, face and features enriched with an undaunted boldness, displaying her eagerness, her willingness, her aptitude for assistance. “Here I am!” She proudly proclaimed, arms lifted in the air with Fangorn caught in the hold of her hands, hissing until she let him down upon the floor to poke and nose around. Her eyes went straight to Sunjata’s back, tilting her head only a fraction along the light as she glanced over what was occupying his attention. “What did you need?” She chirped and chirruped, making herself at home, plopping her bag down in place, her smile only dimming slightly, her brows only furrowing minutely, as her eyes finally pinpointed on the lantern. Suspicions rankled and etched their way down her spine, but she waited for confirmation before the breath pooled out of her lungs.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
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Sunjata Senzaok
Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 8
HAAI - Mythical - Griffin (Fire breath)
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 879
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#3
SuNJATA
the flood
She arrives in a flurry of sunshine and rays, so at odds from the storm clouds that rage over him. But he doesn’t mind. It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know, after all. She proclaims her arrival, the grunts and sounds of Fangorn associating the arrival, and his head turns over his shoulder with a soft, almost hinting at a sad smile. Only after a moment does he fully turn to her, lantern in hand, as Haai dives from her nest to try and get Fangorn to follow and show him what she’s made.

I thought we could start on that wall we were talking about.” He says, stepping aside and leaving enough room for her to join him at his side. His gaze looks up along the wall briefly, brows furrowing slightly as he tries to decide how big each section should be. “We can start choosing size based off of Lusea’s lantern?” A quiet suggestion, showing the lantern he had made previously to her.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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#4
MELITA
She’d errored somehow, someway, sensed it in the darker shrouds, in the laden way the shadows cast over him, despite the sun, despite the presence of spring, despite the curling essence of new, reborn things – too quiet, too furrowed, too chiseled into something like melancholy. Her jaw clenched, breathing, striving to subdue all the excitement, all the ebullience, all the sunshine she’d enamored and beheld only moments ago; those halcyon vibes no longer flourishing, diminished and forlorn over the pieces, the shrapnel, the enamel of the unknown. Her eyes shot immediately to Lusea’s lantern, and the initial confusion bewildered, didn’t allow her to think before speaking – the impetuous, impulsive lines driven along her mouth. “Why do we need to put Lusea’s lantern up?” Her brows quirked together amidst uncertainty, pulsing and pervading, until understanding seemed to dawn, slowly, tragically, puzzle pieces unfurling from their nooses.

Lusea was gone. Again. Souls granted, revived, and then released, as if it had never mattered. Something bitter choked down her throat, for Sunjata, for Lusea, for all the other lost moments and individuals who’d been granted second chances and then split apart the moment they set their feet on earth. “I’m sorry.” Her voice quieted, and her eyes went to the wall, rather than at him, because she knew what it meant to grieve, what it meant to lose, over and over and over again – her mother’s choking hands clasping her gnarled, bony hands around her throat, every gentle honor lost in the figment of ghosts and mirages. “What happened?”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
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Sunjata Senzaok
Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 8
HAAI - Mythical - Griffin (Fire breath)
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 879
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#5
SuNJATA
the flood
He can tell the confusion that lingers in her at the mention of Lusea’s lantern, the way she hadn’t connected it, and he understands. He hadn’t given her the news yet, hadn’t expected her to know. Her ignorance on the matter was nowhere her fault, though it seems soon after she connects the dots and gives her apology, he shrugs lightly. “It’s okay.” He tells her with a small shadowed smile.

It wasn’t okay, really. But they couldn’t do anything about it.

She went to Halo, for some reason.” He offers quietly, shrugging again. “She is not coming back.” An admittance, that whatever was left of her would stay there among the ice and snow. He looks back up along the wall briefly, head tilting slightly. “I made this for her for the last Festival of Lights, before she came back.” He explains.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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#6
MELITA
She hadn’t known Lusea well, or at all, really. But there was still sorrow tucked along the edges of her frame, where the majority of her regrets and rues collected themselves, serrated along fringes of dust and ash, waiting for something to be renewed, waiting for an opportunity for everything else to be resurrected too. The familiar plunge of loss though was a heavier weight to bear, and she was sorry she’d never truly received the opportunity to be further enthralled in Lusea’s potential fire and brimstone, to wonder and learn, to perceive and comprehend. She was sorry Sunjata lost her again, that for all the piercing blades of hope and love and justice, there only seemed to exist a spiraling amount of inequity too, undeserving to have to cope with her absence all over again – unnecessarily cruel of the earth to give and take and spit out fresh wounds and lacerations. Even if he said it was okay, it wasn’t, and she shook her head and balled her fists for him; ready and eager to topple down a tower, a demon, a monster –

Yet, there was nothing to flex her anger into. Halo – not coming back, quiet and sullen and she wondered if he’d already broken and fractured, fizzled, fissured, alone. What had she been doing there? Exploring? Curiosity? For all those times it’d never killed the cat, the world struck back? Her jaw clenched and her lips moved into a tight line, choosing to stare at the wall instead, back at the lantern meant to represent the woman he’d cherished, not enough fire, not enough flame, perhaps. “Let’s do the entire wall,” she summoned from her chest, defiant at something she couldn’t name or tame. The whole god damned wall could convey their sentiments and ruminations, in honor, in dignity, for those that continually moved on without them.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
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Sunjata Senzaok
Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 8
HAAI - Mythical - Griffin (Fire breath)
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 879
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#7
SuNJATA
the flood
She remains silent while he tells her that Lusea isn’t coming back, when he explains the lantern he had made for her, due for some adjustments of course, but something. And he pauses briefly, eyeing the wall curiously yet again, swallowing some of the self-sorrow until later, when he can reopen the wounds away from prying eyes again and again, just like before. But for her, for the bar in progress they stand along, he focuses on the wall ahead of him, with the materials nearby.

Agreed.” He offers to her, looking down and over to her with a soft smile, before he lifts the lantern to the wall to get an idea for size and where to start. He gestures after a moment to a piece of chalk they can use against the dark wall, before eyeing her with a smile. “How big do you think? Enough for just the lantern to fit or?” He opens it up for her to start the chalk line, rulers of sorts nearby as well to get the lines straight so they can work on putting up the boards of wood to encase it, enclose it, give them a place to put their memories.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 580
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#8
MELITA
She didn’t understand how he could be so quiet.

She’d raged like a storm. She’d howled like a banshee. She’d been a deranged, molten, infernal little beast, gathering up every damned inch of sinew, flesh, and bone, and screamed. She’d promised and vowed and when those didn’t matter, didn’t become anything either, she’d merely defied the world.

That hadn’t maneuvered her onward either; but it was ferocious grieving, when she was sick and tired of sobbing.

Maybe because he’d done it before. Because this was a pattern, a ritual now. To chase after fires and watch them dim, turn into cinders, into embers, with no way to keep them alight. The bitterness, the rancor, tucked itself into the corner of her eyes and motioned for rapacity, longed for something to be torn apart – for him, for Lusea, for everyone else who’d tried and somehow couldn’t manage.

The girl wanted to throttle his smile, its pretenses, its glamor, its forced, fake indulgences. But she permitted him to keep it, said naught about it, her eyes either on the floor or on the wall, pressing into the lantern’s hues, into the threshold, swallowing down some noxious plumes threatening to gather in her tempest. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair; and she didn’t voice those either, for they sounded childish and naïve, when she’d only grown accustomed to the weight of loss. She knew better.

She didn’t answer him at first, taking the chalk in hand, grabbing hold of a stool so she could rise above the lantern, a ruler in place so everything was neat and tidy and straight, and drew enough, enough, enough, surrounding the entity of the lantern in its pale lines. She left space around it, within the square, the sanction, for more memories, for more beacons, than just the lantern’s light; swinging her head, her gaze to him, waiting for approval. “Is this enough?”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
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Sunjata Senzaok
Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 8
HAAI - Mythical - Griffin (Fire breath)
Played by: Skylark Offline
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#9
SuNJATA
the flood
His time for rages were through, and at this point he was far too quiet from his exhaustion. But it was different, the second time, there was nothing to rage to other than himself, nothing to do other than wallow and mull along his own thoughts. He hadn’t been able to rage against those that had trapped him, those that had caused it, because nobody truly had. It had been her, and her alone. Woefully unprepared.

But none of it was fair, though life for him never had been. And Melita didn’t know half of his history, or hardly any of it at all other than the parts that included her father, why he didn’t rage and storm and create a fury of fire. That was the Korofi within her. That was the fire she was born with. For him? Lusea had been his fire, the spark to ignite it all. And when left by himself? He was left with an overwhelming sense of internal torture – the flood they had called him, though he drowned himself more often than others. To be one is to become one, and his quiet nature as he looks to the lantern, watching Melita take the chalk and ruler and begin to swipe out the pale lines of shapes in terms of sizes, comes from the feeling of his drowning again and again.

He’s trying to be better, trying to feel better, but it only goes so far.

Still, he looks up to her as she questions if it’s enough, steel eyes meeting her gilded ones with the faintest hint of a growing smile of approval crossing his stubbled face. “I think so.” He announces, removing the lantern and focusing on what else could go there without just being the lantern. There were enough spaces to allow for knickknacks, small memories to add to the rest of the grouping.

Alright, let’s make a bunch and pick where ours will go.” He offers, grabbing another piece of chalk and setting Lusea’s lantern aside, grabbing a second ruler to ensure the lines would be straight – a guide to put the beams up in place, to nail them into the wall. Shelves of memories and loved ones, so they’ll always have a place there.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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#10
MELITA
She’d snarl for him, if he let her, echo all the brash, irritated sentiments out into the void, as she’d always done, even if it didn’t really matter in the end. The snarling, snagging threads of wrath and contempt were always there to swarm and defy, to pitch together some mangled knot and noose of vile, vile hatred, to harpoon it where someone else could feel pain and torment too. But he remained quiet, dissolute, and she wanted to spurn and spin and fume; considered pounding her fist into the walls and leaving their marks embedded into the fresh surface, into the wood, splintered under her skin. They could be stigmas of their wounds too, little shards with words written underneath to absorb and detail the pain – but she withheld, teeth muddled and mouth closed, jaw lanced so tight it was obvious she was fighting down a torrential spray of malice and heartache.

Her eyes focused on his for a moment, too much fire, too much brimstone, too many embers collected in their sets – his just steel, like fortified contortions, and gods, she didn’t understand.

But he approved, and she gave no smile in return, going straight back to the rulers and chalk, drawing lines, designating areas, where memories and mourning contortions were supposed to go, and she didn’t know what to say or what to do to make it any better. She couldn’t. She never had. Once, her gaze ghosted back to the lantern, on what it was supposed to represent, and then the youth turned away once more, brows furrowed in concentration.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
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Sunjata Senzaok
Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 8
HAAI - Mythical - Griffin (Fire breath)
Played by: Skylark Offline
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#11
SuNJATA
the flood
She remains silent, and internally he wonders if she’s raging like he would have once upon a time. If she misses the chance she would have had with Lusea, to get to know the fiery woman, to learn, to grow. How the two of them would have taken Melita under their wings, moved on with their lives with the bar and everything else. At least he was still here, trying to keep it together, to keep her close now that he’d lost the only other piece of Korofi he had again.

But when he glances to her, he can see the tightness of her jaw, how he does the same with news he doesn’t like, with figuring out how to deal with those overwhelming, overbearing emotions. And the way she looks at him when he approves, he can see the storms raging behind, where his were steel and fortified, cold and sharp, masks put into place to harm and protect, because Sunjata had been taken advantage of far too much and he wasn’t going to let it start again now.

She doesn’t smile to him either, instead she begins the task, and Sunjata finds that he can’t particularly deal with the silence, with the elephant in the room, with the shreds of fury and anger he can feel tensing the air. “Do you want to talk about her?” He asks quietly. He wants to talk about her. He wants to tell Melita everything about her, what she’d done for him, what he’d become because of her. Perhaps a lesson of Korofi was in order while they worked on this.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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#12
MELITA
Her hands were occupied with the chalk and rulers, otherwise she might’ve balled them into fists, curled nails back into her palms; all she did now was breathe slowly, striving to control the fire raging under her skin. When he finally asked, quietly, on some hushed mannerism she hadn’t thought he’d possess, she whipped her head back around, so there were dashes of crimson, symbolic little gestures and coils of a world she’d long since lost, but hadn’t left behind. “Don’t you?” She couldn’t imagine keeping it together, under wraps, tightly closed and clustered away from everyone, from everything – but she was prone to blistering, to scathing, to rippling undulations of treacherous, rapacious fringes, trying desperately to claw her way into things that weren’t so cold, that weren’t so dark. The girl talked about her family whenever she could, preserved them at their best, at their brightest, and not the cold knuckles pressed into her throat, or her sister’s choking, final, collapsed breaths. Why he’d want to bury Lusea under wraps, under ruins, was beyond her. “I barely knew her.” But she’d wanted to – fire and spirit and conflagrations, drifting on their embers and cinders, rippling across grasslands and scorching into the earth was just one giant inferno in their wake. Her voice might’ve bordered on the incredulous, on the stoking, kindling sources; but only because she didn’t know what else to do.

Then she turned back to stare at the wall, the ruler and chalk in her grasp, an irreverent, choking hold on their wares, wishing they would become ashes or dust in her clenching feats, so that something bothered to be destroyed in her wake. Instead of elsewhere. Instead of people, instead of places, instead of potential. “And now she’s gone. Just like that.” Like it was nothing. Like particles and ether. Like vestiges and ash. Like dust and pebbles. As if naught mattered. Her jaw unclenched, and the youth didn’t bother swallowing down the vitriol she had – it wasn’t for Sunjata, but for the way everything always seemed to work. “Aren’t you tired of it?” Tired of the loss? Tired of striving for things that could never be? Tired of heartache and defeat?
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
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Sunjata Senzaok
Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 8
HAAI - Mythical - Griffin (Fire breath)
Played by: Skylark Offline
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#13
SuNJATA
the flood
Don’t you?” She asks him and he refrains from the curling of his lip in a small smirk of a response. Not in the playful way of his usual antics, but in the way that is almost akin to a small grimace. “Of course I do.” He offers quietly, a roll of his shoulders. The comment that she barely knew her hits him somewhere deep and he focuses hard on the wall ahead of them that they work on.

Doesn’t she have questions of what she was like?

And now she’s gone, just like that.” She says, fury and fire in the hints of her voice. “For a second time.” He offers in quiet agreement. But her next question makes him still as his hands reach for the line of chalk, to adjust and add, hovering above the line in the wall as he doesn’t know exactly what to say. “I am.” An accented response before he withdraws his hand and stares at the space her lantern will go.

I’m tired of getting close to people only for them to leave. I’m tired of Caido giving me a second chance with her, a taunt, before she’s gone again. But what can I do? I can’t fight whatever took her because I don’t know exactly what did? I can’t push against the guards holding me back like I did the first time, to get to her to try and save her. What do I fight against, Melita?” He turns his head to her, the steel melding and smoldering into something akin to shadowed flame.

Let this be the fiery Korofi she imagined.

I can’t fight against the unfairness of it all. Life’s unfair. That’s how it is. But it’s like the ocean, you can either let it take you and drown you or you learn to swim against the waves.” He hopes she’s seen an ocean, he hopes she understands. “I’m trying to keep my head above water.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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#14
MELITA
Then do it Melita thought about snarling, bitter and unrelenting, even if it wasn’t truly directed at him. Her raw anger, her contemptuous, rancorous loathing, was for the world that continually spiraled out from underneath them – promises of peace, repose, and sanctuary, all fallen and cracked and split apart before they even had an opportunity to cherish it. Her eyes settled on that damned wall while her fingers clenched and unclenched, while her despair for him, for anyone else who had to continue facing these insurmountable truths and overbearing beacons barreled on through her shoulders, through her limbs, and through her wild, wicked irreverence. Fangorn hissed from somewhere, feeling the tension brewing beneath her frame, but the girl hastened on, listening and drawing those firm chalk lines, wondering if she pressed hard enough, the world would just collapse beneath her vitriol.

For a second time; resurrections incomplete, like little hovering promises and benedictions, and smothered in the next. Cruel and malicious, this damned earth they stood upon. No one deserved it.

His words flickered alongside her sedition too, spread them like little fires and embers, stoking the flames. Nothing to fight against. Nothing to push against. Nothing to throw his weight within, and she wanted to come up with something, wanted to proffer a target to assail upon. She always had Kiada. She always had that stupid, insipid, foolish Harpy who’d decided to anoint and consecrate herself with the indulgence of a false god and kill off Helovia in the process – incapable of forgiveness, barreling and brewing and contorting her vengeance into the folds of her raw hurt and anger. “I don’t know,” she only extended, still staring at the threshold and all its lines, all its drawn, etched details where the rest of the sorrowed, gone citizens would still reign, and it was soulless, to glance upon all the canvases already started, all the lives already vanquished. “I just want to fight something. Sometimes all I crave is for the world to pay.” Her glance tilted back his way, the inferno spreading along her gilded eyes, narrowing at his steeled contortions.

Maybe she’d already been taken and drown and smothered and this was all she was destined to be from now on.

Or that she billowed over the surface, never pausing, never ceasing, long enough to sink into its depths.

“Tell me about her then,” she swallowed down the choking bile, the heated, scathing, noose tucked over her nape.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
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