(SE) when the nighttime comes, say yes

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

She hesitates, and he does with her as his words carry his breath along the shell of her ear, but after a moment he withdraws a reaction to look at her face, to feel the hands that grip onto him tighter. But she admits that he has accomplished that, however weak of an admittance it was, and he can’t help the slight bloom of a smirk crossing his face once more. But regardless of what Maea had been hoping for, Sunjata does intend to see it out, until she tells him to bring her back where she can stand and return to the shore, or remain in this game for a little while longer.

But then she brings up Phoebe, and the smirk shifts into something else, faltering slightly, having forgotten that Maea had said she was a friend. Despite it, however, his shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug, muscles moving beneath her hands with the gesture as he keeps her in his arms. “What about her?” He asks, searching her gaze if she lets him. “I don’t have the best reputation. She knew that when she asked me to marry her.” He offers with a bit of indifference. “Besides, you were at the wedding, I’m sure you’d seen it all. She’d been crying before Frey arrived.” Perhaps it was a bit too personal to admit to someone he didn’t know too well.

His gaze softens a bit as he looks to her, jaw clenching ever so slightly, recalling Phoebe’s tears, how he appeared as though some sort of monster when he was quite the opposite most days. “She didn’t want it either, but here we are.” He lifts her slightly out of the water to let her gain her bearings again without the water at her shoulder. “You also said you’d keep my sensitivities to yourself.” He offers, trying to lighten the mood again, feigning a wounded pride.

At the end of the day, a kiss was just a kiss, if that was what she wanted. Nobody was around to know aside from the two of them.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MAEA

If his words were meant to soothe and assuage her concerns, Sunjata failed. A frown appeared on Maea's face, a stern little wrinkle between the eyebrows as she withdrew a bit, expanding the distance between them once more. As he searched her eyes, she examined his, looking for the truth behind the callous talk.

"Why would you marry someone if you don't intend to be faithful to them?" she asked. "If you knew she didn't want it, and you don't care whether your actions hurt her... why the charade?"

Something cold and heavy settled in her stomach as she turned her mind about the issue, and it brought enough clarity back to her mind that could look at him properly again. He was handsome, she did not deny that. Charming, easy and inviting - it was so very tempting to trust his smiles and just go along. But if Phoebe's name only brought to mind tears and discomfort for him, Maea remembered a quiet, shy girl who smiled at her in the LongNight dark. Who spoke to her openly without caring that Maea's hair was white, her eyes colorless and unseeing, an outcast in all but name.

"Yes, Sunjata, I was at the wedding. I saw her cry... but I also saw that both of you stepped up to that altar of your own free will. Don't kid yourself into thinking you're free of blame if she's hurt by your actions."

And as she realized she wanted no part in making Phoebe cry, she pushed back from him. Part of her - the one ruled by the body - complained about separating from that muscled chest, those strong arms, but it was overruled by guilt and loyalty.

"I've no intention to run tattletail. But I don't think I'm going to participate in anything that needs to be kept secret, either."

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

The words were meant to be honest, to tell her what it was that was between Phoebe and him, that aside from marriage in name there wasn’t anything else to it for him. He’d given the midwife his terms, had told her he could give her everything he hadn’t wanted. A marriage. A child. And all he asked in return was to keep his activities to himself, and hers to her own. That she could do exactly what it was he was doing here, and he wouldn’t care, wouldn’t mind, in fact he’d likely prefer it that way.

But things hadn’t gone his way. Things rarely did, anyway.

He lets her withdraw, his gaze remaining on her as she speaks. “Because she knew I would say no. And in my stubborn pride, of so many times I’ve told her I never wanted it, I said yes.” His head tilts a bit as he leans back, arms loosening around her. “She can do whatever she wants too. I told her I’d marry her in name only, that she’d have my protection but aside from that I wanted nothing more.”

But Maea continues, about the wedding, and he can feel the conversation shifting, the frustration flaring in the midst of stupid decisions and lost bets, heart shifting to something akin to the sorrow he’d felt in the days leading up to being shackled to the altar. “The thing is, Maea, I asked her after she lost her nephews, what I could do to help her. She said this was it. ’Miserable together is better than miserable alone.’ That’s what she told me.” He pauses in his thought process as she pushes away from him and he lets her, still prepared to catch her should she begin to slip away under the current, and he runs a hand through his hair with a quiet sigh, exasperated ever so slightly. “She doesn’t care what I want, because I don’t want any of the things that she does, and yet I’m sacrificing everything that I am and everything I want, for her.” He shakes his head to that, some dark chuckle leaving his throat at that.

“I’m not free of blame, not in the slightest. But if my secrets are all I get to keep in this arrangement with her, then I will keep them.” His gaze levels back on her, a seriousness to them, an emptiness to them, something broken from within from the times Lusea had died, from the times he’d never been enough, from the times he’d never gotten anything he’d wanted despite how hard he’d fought for it over and over again. A shift from how both him and Phoebe were to be blamed for what occurred, both out of stubborn pride, or was it spite? But he wasn't the monster it seemed he was, nor was Phoebe the damsel she seemed she was too.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MAEA

He never raised his voice, but Maea felt the weight of his tirade all the same. Treading water to keep herself from being swept away by the current, she did not go far, just enough that they no longer touched. Her expression was serious as she listened, eyes keen and attentive; she did not back away from the abrupt change of topic, nor try to interrupt him.

In the end, when his words were spent and he looked at her for a reaction, she found the stormy gray eyes somehow hollow. Void, as if whatever light she'd thought herself see in there indeed had only been a reflection. Chewing on her lower lip, the girl considered him, the brief moment of intimacy they'd shared, the boundary they'd almost crossed.

"What is it that you want, then?" she asked. There was sympathy in her eyes, and the voice was soft. No blame, no derision or contempt, just... calm patience. Dipping her hair down into the water for a moment, she combed it back from the face; gazing at him with clarity. Watching, listening.

"I can't say I really understand your thinking. Did you do this because she told you to, just to prove her... wrong? Right?

"I... did not take you for the kind of person who'd go along with the wishes of others if they're so selfish and against all you want. What happened to 'picking your battles'? What of the pride in setting your own boundaries and sticking to them?"

It's what she was doing right now. And though she did lament the loss of something that surely would have been sweet, Maea felt all the stronger for doing so.

"If you truly do not want this, then leave. I would be far more impressed by someone who had the guts to admit a mistake and correct it, damn the loss of face, than anyone who damaged themselves and others for the sake of keeping face. That's what it really seems to be about to me. Not pride, just ego. You want to be right, not honorable."

She meant no disrespect with what she said, and the tone was mild, but knew it might cut all the same.

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

He’s not been one to raise his voice in a long time, but there is still the feeling of losing his grip, of losing the control over the things he did with his life. Perhaps that’s why he’d attuned on a whim, on a thought. An idea. Because that was one thing he could have, he could keep to himself, and Safrin had granted it for him, had blessed him with it even after he’d met Frey the first time.

She remains quiet while he speaks, and when he’s done he can’t help the clench to his jaw, the muscle feathering there as she asks what he wants. And he doesn’t know what he wants, really. The ocean, the ability to love and lose and not grow attached to someone who can just be taken away from him again and again – because they always did. To not feel like he needs to sacrifice something for someone he can’t keep himself away from.

His gaze shudders slightly at the thought. “I want a great many things, but nothing this place can offer.” A quiet admittance. “But I’ve learned the hard way that Caido takes the things you want, taunts you with them, and crushes them beneath its fist.” He thinks back to the bronze lantern in the VlamVloed, the flint to Lusea’s eyes, the deep bronze of her skin. It’s not exactly an answer, but he sighs all the same, quietly when she continues on.

“I did it because I can’t stay away from her – I always end up back there some way, or she to me.” He frowns, running a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze as he looks anywhere else but her. “I argued with her when Lusea died and she came to see me. And somehow it still ended up with her asking if there was a future for us. A few weeks after I’d learned my soul mate died for a second time.” And he hadn’t been there for her, hadn’t been able to find the vengeance in his rage. “I pick my battles where I think I have some amount of control or some sort of choice, and with her? I don’t. I never have.” His gaze finally slips back to her then, that very same hollowness reflecting, shattered and empty, and surprisingly open where he usually remains fairly closed off, hidden behind masks of amusement and flirtatious smiles, alcohol and the likes.

But when she tells him that she’d be far more impressed by someone who would be honorable rather than being right and with a large ego, another dark chuckle leaves his throat and he crosses his arms across his chest, the wings folding in ever so slightly as he focuses on her again, gaze narrowing as his compasses point directly at her. “I can’t.” His voice is rough once more, though whether from emotion or something else, it’s unclear. His eyes reflect that very same confliction within him, the very same argument he’d had with Phoebe over and over again, the same answer given time and time again. “Is it so bad to just want to be right, one time? When everything else is falling apart at the seams and I'm tired of being the one to keep it all together?” Did that make him a terrible person? Did it make him selfish? Possibly, probably. But he was done caring. Phoebe knew it was likely to happen, despite how much the midwife wished to change him, to turn him into the most ideal person for her, a father to her children that he doesn't want, for a life he doesn't want.

He'd warned her, at the very least. And she'd still gone through with it at the end of those three terrible days.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MAEA

He was nothing if not stubborn. All the arguments seemed well practiced, chewed to pulp and regurgitated, only to then be swallowed again for more. While the words were different Maea ached with the familiarity of it. The bitterness, the helpless frustration, the inability to take control over what mattered most. It echoed the same litany she chewed in her own mind; abandoned, unworthy, weak, in need of change and oh, why did others receive what she always dreamed of while she got nothing?

In the end, it was self destructive. Through the help of others, patient mentors and friends she was slowly starting to untangle the knotted threads her thoughts had become. But Sunjata seemed to reject even the idea of accepting help, of changing his thoughts. Determined to crash and burn, his clenched jaw was one of a man staring into the void, only waiting for the right moment to destroy himself. And the sight of it made her ache. A stranger he might be still, but there was something very vulnerable about the things he said, because of the honesty. No doubt she would be able to take his words, twist them and send them back in needling barbs to prove that he was wrong, it did not have to be this way.

But what good would that do? He was already in pain, and she had no desire to make it worse.

"No, sweet, it's not wrong," she soothed, drifting closer again. Unconsciously adopting Ludo's monikers as she addressed him, she made to touch his cheek with too pale fingers, cold from the everflowing river. She sought his gaze, a sad little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I'm sorry you've ended up like this... and that you have seen so little kindness from this world. I wish I could tell you that it will get better... but in the end I think you're the only one who can decide what makes you happy."

Maybe it would be Phoebe in the end. Perhaps they would split again, and he'd find the answer he sought elsewhere. Perhaps it was a divide that ran too deep to ever truly be resolved - it seemed likely, if her friend was half as stubborn as her husband was proving to be. All Maea knew was that she did not wish to become the tool that would divide them in the end. Both for Phoebe's sake, but also for her own. While she didn't say anything, the idea that this - his jesting, the flirtations, what he made her feel - was only a way for him to prove how wrong he was for another, hurt her deeply. The first man to ever look at her like she was more than a piece of furniture... and it was all a great jest in the end.

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

He does half expect her to turn it around on him – as everyone else did. As Phoebe did regularly, as his father had his entire life, as Loren consistently did. But he doesn’t expect her to drift closer, to hear the term on her tongue, to hear her try to soothe him. It doesn’t work, not as he’s stuck on this path, not as he’s sure the only way he’s going out is by his own recklessness. He’s never expected a long life, had expected to die at seventeen and made no plans thereafter. And here he is, almost a decade later, in the same listless ocean, drifting without a thing in sight to tether him to.

Perhaps he’s destined to drift away as an anchor, stuck at the bottom of a raging ocean, until everyone forgets he’s been there, until they stop looking.

He shivers slightly when her fingers touch his stubbled cheek, his gaze finding hers as she finds his, something shuttering within them as she continues. The idea that it would get better is one he’d hoped to see for years, only to have it fall back, to see it blow up. “I’ve learned to not get my hopes up.” He tells her hoarsely, honestly. He doesn’t know what would make him happy, perhaps the consistent drive of floating from person to person, bed to bed, alcohol at night and cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket. Perhaps those might be a few things, only he’s not allowed that either. Not with the illness in his lungs, the rasp to his breath if he takes too deep of an inhale.

He reaches out then, trying to brush her ivory hair from her face again, to tuck behind her ear as he tries to give her an equally small smile. The flirtations, the jests, it was all something to give him a different feeling from being lost, a tether in the dark however fraying, however temporary they may be. “And I think true happiness is a far cry from being attainable after all.” His gaze breaks from hers to run a hand through his hair, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. “So I take what little bits I can get and hope it fills enough until the next.” Shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, the hand that had ran through his hair now settles along the scar to his throat, the one that should have killed him but didn’t.

Perhaps he’d be better off if it had.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MAEA

While the closeness of being held to his chest had made her blush, this raw, open honesty was a far more intimate connection in her mind. Because it was a connection, however fresh and unexpected it might be, and Maea allowed herself one brief quiet moment to lament over the fact that she could not give him what he wanted. Oh, she could understand Phoebe's desire to want to tie someone to her and have them stay. Rather miserable together than miserable alone... Maea felt that, knew the thinking, understood the desperate loneliness that it sprung from. What she objected to was the idea that they would have to be miserable at all, that Sunjata saw so little hope in his existence that only darkness remained.

When he reached his hand to her hair she did not shy away. It was such a small gesture, but tender and kind; it sent a tingle down her spine, reminding her that it was unwise to get too close again. Whatever power he had over her had not disappeared in the slightest, and with him caring so little about what happened... it was on her to uphold her own ideals.

"Perhaps it's all we can ever do," the girl replied. Again she did not argue with him, realizing that it would do no good. "I don't know that it'd be the kind of happiness you're looking for, but... if you want a friend, I wouldn't mind your company. I told Loren that I'd become strong enough that he couldn't hurt me even if I was around... I could offer the same to you."

A little light of mischief brightened her expression as she said it, part reassuring promise and part challenge. But it was not said in jest; Maea meant every word of it. It was what she desired, what she sought from life. The strength to protect herself, to protect her friends, and ensure that no one would ever cry over her.

In the end, it also meant she would have to become stronger than these men, who seemed convinced that their very existence brought ruin upon the world. She found the idea very amusing, and thrilling as well.

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

She doesn’t shy away from his hand as it brushes her hair, tucks it behind her ear, and his darkened steel gaze slips back to her when she begins to speak, withdrawing his hand to rest along the scar. But she doesn’t argue with him, keeps the conversation the same, some form of understanding lingering within the thoughts he’s expressed, the shield being put up brick by brick in an effort to repair it when it inevitably comes back. But it doesn’t, and it’s such a surprise for him that he fumbles, letting her continue her thoughts as he tries to figure out what to say.

She mentions Loren, and there’s a tilt to his head at what she means, a small nod granted and given when it hits through the daze and the shadows he’s encompassed as mischief alights in her eyes.  A promise and a challenge he can see in it, and it’s enough to grant a quiet laugh to leave her. “I think I’d like that.” He comments quietly, rougher, hoarser as he shakes his head and exhales. A bit of the mischief flickering back into the hollow gleam to his eyes, the hint of a mask returning, even if not fully.

“Do you plan on staying at the VlamVloed?” He asks, uncertain if she’d wish to after what had just happened, his accent far thicker on the words from home a reflection of the blood that runs through his veins. He wouldn’t blame her if she said no, but a part of him wants her company around, to make the days when he’s working at the bar perhaps a bit less lonely, a bit more thoughtful, a bit more than the darkness he encompasses himself with time and time again.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MAEA

His answer pleased her, there was no doubt about that. The little smile grew wider, more sure even as the glint in his eyes returned. She knew it for what it was now; a mere distraction, meant to keep people from looking too deeply. What she'd seen here was no doubt rare and far more worthy of guarding as secret than whatever he'd had in mind.

Taking her hand back, she folded it along with the other across the chest - an awkward affair in the swift water, and she soon had to extend them to keep herself afloat - and raised a brow at him when he asked if she would remain at the tavern.

"I was certainly not planning on leaving, not for a good while," she countered. "Why, are you planning on being difficult?"

It was only half jest; she'd not rejected him outright, but thought her comments ought to have made her point clear all the same. Maea gave him a searching look, a quiet question in her gaze; would he let this unfinished game end here? Make it a secret for only the river to know, and forget about it?

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

She reads him well, sees through the mask he places now that he’s offered a surprising amount of honesty, of the fractured being that lives within the taunts and jests and indifference. All made far more complicated by the marriage he has, the tenuous strings within that relationship that he tries to rebel from, tries to tear down from the inside out.

He watches her hand withdraw to fold across her chest, and he sinks a bit lower into the water to become a bit more eye level with her, despite how tall he is in comparison to her should they be on shore. “Maybe.” He offers, giving her a slightly playful wink before he lets the facade fade ever so slightly. “Only when you can actually kick my ass for it.” He offers, referring to their quiet agreement.

We’ll see how long it lasts, though he doesn’t include it in the look he gives her, a return challenge. His hands are under the water but he does manage to create a small wave to toss at her, playful and distracting, seeing if she can handle herself.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MAEA

Scowling at the lack of answer, she opened her mouth to reply when he followed the threat with a rush of water her way. It caught her unawares and she gulped an unfortunate amount of the river water, tasting silt and dirt, rock and decomposing matter before she managed to expell it all from her lungs. Flailing about for a moment to steady herself in the water, she gave him a withering look.

Meanwhile, there was some serious thinking going on within her head. Flashes of conversation passed by, contrasting and clashing with old ideas and assumptions. It was a small war of ideals, of goals and methods, and it all coalesced under Sunjata's simple, straightforward words. Pick your battle. In this case, it was all about magic. Throughout her life it had always been the enemy, the great defiler, the reason she had been outcast and shunned by gods and men alike. But voices had also agreed on several occasions that it could not be removed, and she realized that it was a futile war to wager. Instead... she could make the most of it, make an asset of the powers and utilize it to her advantage.

It should have been an obvious conclusion, but... Maea was quite stubborn sometimes.

Now faced with this grinning idiot of a man, she threw away all her inhibitions, sent them floating down the river and dropped all shields against the magic. Maea could almost feel the river as it coursed around her, and it took no more than a thought to ease the press of the current where she were, to steady herself. Twisting herself around, she pulled the water with her, making it swirl around her waist like a skirt to lift her upwards, higher and higher until she towered over Sunjata, hands on hips and a strange gleam to her eyes; giddy, a little drunk on the sheer scale of the power she found herself to possess.

"You were saying..?" she commented sweetly, and pointed behind him; a huge wave was rushing towards him like a small tsunami, stealing water from far downstream to build up sufficient speed and height. It moved against the current, and threatened to bare down on the attuned at any second, lest he moved away very quickly.

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

He lets her flail about in the water, nothing but amusement across his face when she recovers and scowls. But the amusement fades in favor of surprise when she seems to unleash herself, taking hold of the water he’d ensured she couldn’t drown in, and he’s confused. She’d be able to save herself at the end of the day if she managed to get swept away, and he wonders if perhaps she’d tricked him in one way or another.

He doesn’t have long to find out as his gaze follows her until he can see the shadow in the corner of his peripheral vision, turning enough to see the small tsunami as it grows and threatens to spill over on top of him. He looks back at Maea with a bright challenging grin this time. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?” He offers with a wink, body shifting and morphing into his panther form, diving into the water as he aims to avoid the onslaught of the water, before diving to swim around her and come up from behind her. His large paws make it relatively easy to push himself through the water with, and soon enough he’s sure he’s directly behind the plume of water she’s created.

He shifts back into himself, going to stand in the water enough that he has some purchase against the resulting waves from the crash of the small tsunami. “Fortunately for you, I am too.” He hums to her, voice hoarse and rough and somewhat breathless with the exertion here, peering up at her with a playful bright gaze once more, waiting for more tricks up her sleeves.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MAEA

Well. Power she might have, but experience and grasp of tactics was in short supply. One did not become an accomplished fighter in a few days, let alone a bare hour, and it was revealed rather quickly. Gaping in startled wonder at the sleek, black giant of a cat that Sunjata disappeared into, Maea realized belatedly that her tsunami was headed not only for the spot where the cat had been - how could he move so quickly? - but also towards herself. With no one left to take the brunt of the impact, she found her little pillar toppled by the sheer force of her own spell, and had to save herself by cushioning the landing as she fell back into the churning waters of the river.

Once she emerged, coughing and drenched with water rushing from hair and habit, she staggered towards Sunjata, slogging through the deep river where he stood tall and steady. Almost a third smaller than him, Maea had to use her magic again to aid her, lest she be splashing around aimlessly in the eddies, and by the time she stood secure again her breath came as short as his.

It had been worth it though, seeing the surprise on his face. The smugness replacing it was less charming, and Maea changed tactics. Aiming at the water about his feet when she was close enough to work it, she hauled it up to form a bubble that would close around him, leaving only what air he might be able to inhale. It was a fishbowl of massive scale, and if he tried to leave it Maea would shift it along; keeping a careful eye on the prisoner within, to see if he actually would have trouble getting out.

She did not actually want to hurt him, after all.