(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 stays surprisingly close, and he embraces her a bit further, a softness to the touch of his roughened calloused hands with her soft cheek against his stubbled own while he speaks, recollects, talks of his past. While he talks of Lusea, his flame, the significance to the flaming arrow on his chest, to the arrows on his compasses which had been aimed at what was in front of him, because Lusea had been there the entire time – unable to keep his eyes off her, to keep himself from drifting away from her, she was the sun to his planet, revolving around and stuck within her orbit, helpless to stop the spinning, not ever wanting it to stop.

At this present moment, the compasses along his neck point directly at her as she speaks, and another shiver slips down his shoulders and spine as she absently played with the curls of his hair at the base of his neck, so close to the scar that lingers there along his main vein. He’s silent for a moment as he thinks on it, hands slipping up along her back to play with her own, to feel the silky strands of ivory slip through his fingers as he pulls his head away a small amount to look along her pale face.

“He knew it was me. It was made well known.” He offers, perhaps a bit ruefully. “He killed my mother for it and the wing tattoos.” The way he says it almost seems like it doesn’t matter, but there’s a darker space in his gaze, a haunting that still bothers him – that he’d been the source for it, for the carnage and rage his father had been put in. “I ran to my room, sure I'd be sick, unsure what to even do, and that’s the first time Lusea came to stay with me. She’d brought her father’s best bottle of whiskey and we drank it all night until I passed out.” A quiet tilt of a smile to his lips at the memory. “But that was... Six years ago now I think, it happened before Lusea and I ever said anything about feelings to one another.” When he’d been young and shaken by the fiery woman with flint eyes and enough spitfire to kick his ass at the end of the day for literally anything.

“We weren’t successful in the end, though. Korofi did burn, but I’m sure my father still lives.” And how it kills him that the bastard does, wanting nothing more than to tear him apart with fang and claw.

But he offers her an equally brighter smile at the offer of training, and he shrugs a bit to that, causing her arms to rise and fall along with them. “I’m a member of the militia, so I’m sure I could find a thing or two to help get you started.” He admits, thinking it over already, piecing it in the back of his mind how they could go about it.

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

MAEA

It almost seemed like a dam bursting. Now that he'd started to talk about his old life, Sunjata didn't stop and Maea made no move to quiet him. Though she ached hearing about the cruelty and sorrow, it no doubt did him good to say it aloud. Like lancing a boil; no doubt it would hurt afterwards too, but with luck it might not feel like quite the burden anymore.

"They all have a story?" she inquired, looking down on the inked shapes that draped across his skin. It looked golden compared to her own pale arms, and not for the first time Maea felt a little ashamed of her own lack of pigment. Like a greenhouse flower, too delicate to be allowed in the wild, beneath a burning sun. No doubt this frolic in the water would have her burned and blistering come evening - she never tanned, not even a little - but it was far from her mind now.

"Hmm.. I don't know. Perhaps it's for the better... No matter how much of a monster he might be, he's still your father. Better not put the burden of his death on yourself, on top of everything else. Leave it for someone else to kill him."

She could have told him that he might still have the chance himself. But this was no time to explain what he was, the strange truth about his existence here on Caido. It ought to be kept secret for now, and... though that too was tempting, she kept her silence for now.

Feeling his hand move up her back and tug on the hair, she deliberately ignored the little shiver it caused and focused on the talk of training instead. Safer, more interesting.
"You are? I had no idea. Militia, bar owner... is there anything else I should know about?" She smiled, a little playfully.

SUNJATA

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

“Every single one of them. And the scars too.” He offers, tilting his horned head to show her the compass, the scar. He lets her look at the navy markings, the etching into his flesh permanently marked and fit to form his body, curves of the wings that flit along shoulders and chest and back. But he focuses on her when he pauses once more, listening to her as she mentions that he shouldn’t bear the burden of his death, and he finally shakes his head to that, horns dripping a small amount more water with the gesture. “I tried to. Almost died in the process. Three years after I defected, one of the other noblemen ratted out our location to my father. They captured Lusea and I, brought us back to the house I grew up in, and a few weeks later dragged us into the front room along the foyer.”

He can still see the blood trickling along the marble stone, the rage that encompassed him, the guards that held him back and restrained him as he tried to fight back and break free to get to her. But she had been so weak after those weeks. A heavy sigh leaves him, raspy and he focuses on her pale gaze. “Guards held us back and my father went on a rant of how much of a disappointment I was, how I could still be saved. He ended up killing Lusea that day, and I raged.” A bitterness crosses his gaze, his face at that. “I surged against the guards holding me but they held a blade to my throat, sliced my neck open as I went to hold her and try to save her. There wasn’t anything I could do though, and they healed me before I had a chance to go with her.” A brief pause as he lets his head near hers again, lips by her ear as his hands brush through the bright white of her hair.

“But he had it planned, arranged marriages for my sister and I to ensure I didn’t stray.” He withdraws his head a bit to see her face at that – that perhaps she may understand his resentment and bitterness toward marriages – because every single time he’d been forced into it. How he’d never wanted it. Never thought he could ever want it. “I had to flee Korofi before Lusea’s father got to me. My father broadcasted that I was a spy within the rebellion and had done it all intentionally.”

He lets the words sink in as he focuses on her question of the militia, hearing the playful tone to her voice that causes a small smile to creep onto his own face despite the seriousness of their conversation. “A few other things perhaps, given time.” He continues to let his hands stroke her hair, sending a wink to her.

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

MAEA

A peculiar dichotomy it was. On one hand the sensation of his finges running through her hair, and the warm breath on her skin as he spoke in her ear. It was a reminder of how dangerous it was to linger too close, how easily he made her skin tingle with horrified delight. It would be easy to get lost in that touch.

But... on the other hand the words he spoke were of war, death and tragedy, of a woman he'd loved and lost, and lost again. Of hatred towards a father he hadn't managed to kill, of a country he'd failed to change, of pain and rage and despair... and this time Maea couldn't push away. Because it'd be like rejecting the things he spoke of, declining the trust he was pouring over her, and she just couldn't bring herself to do that. It was far too precious a gift.

Focusing on the tattoos instead, on the tale he told and on the secrets he chose to keep - for now, at least - she pretended that the rasping voice so close to her ear meant nothing at all. Touching the ink - unnecessary, perhaps, but he didn't seem to mind - she felt the slight difference in elevation where blue met bronze and thought again of the bar, of Lusea... and Phoebe. A good reminder of her own place in this little story.

"And then you wound up here? At least you're far away from him now, from all of it. He'll never be able to reach you here, I hope you know that. Whatever happened in the past, it's over. You can never be made to go back there." But even as she said that, Maea hoped in her heart that the man indeed was dead. Because just as the Voice had pulled so many other Outlanders here, it might very well reach for the man who'd destroyed so much of Sunjata's life.

SUNJATA

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

Indeed it was, a strange, terrible, long story – omitting the darker parts, the pieces of him he hardly can admit to himself at the end of the day. There’s a quiet sound of agreement that leaves his throat, deep and something akin to a hum at that. “I took my sister and we exiled. Only I ended up here, fell into the Labyrinth last Longheat.” He searches her gaze again, his other hands thumb stroking the skin along her shoulders casually, lazily.

“But. Even if he’s dead, there’s a chance. Because last Deepfrost, Lusea was resurrected at the Spire. And Phoebe brought her right to the clinic, right after I had opened up to her about who Lusea was at the Festival of Lights.” He searches her gaze again at that, before his eyes grow haunted, shifting to something akin to the confusion surrounding the entire ordeal of it. “Phoebe and I had been together for… A couple of months at that point? And when I saw Lusea there… Well, Phoebe claims I had forgotten about her the minute I set eyes on my flame.” He wonders if he should be telling her this at all, at the long rocky relationship him and his wife had.

“We stayed at the Temple for LongNight, and when it was over and the Rathskeller burned, she helped me and Loren and Melita put together the VlamVloed.” His voice grows a bit quieter here, a bit more sorrowful. “She went to go explore somewhere, ended up in Halo. I found out from Delphia that she’d been killed. Again.” He wonders what Maea thinks of it all, the insanity of it all.

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

MAEA

Wise, unwise, should or shouldn't... it all depended on what he wanted from her, in the end. If it was friendship then indeed, it was the right thing to do. Placing trust in another was the only way to find out if they were worthy of it, and Maea fully intended to earn his. But... if his thoughts ever strayed beyond camaraderie, if his lazy caress of her shoulder was meant to invite to something else, then talking about his wife and dead lover was not the way to go.

Maea did not pull away or indeed give a sign she minded the roaming of his hands, but she did not respond to it either. Something within her was growing a touch hollow, numb from a wound he wouldn't know he was carving. Whatever attraction he'd suggested towards her was so very shallow compared to these things he talked about - of course it was, they'd only just met - but it still hurt to be labeled as the distraction. The option.

She didn't know what to say to it all. Assure that the likelihood of the same thing happening twice was minimal? Offer condolences over Lusea again, even though it would only be empty words - Maea didn't know her, had never heard anyone speak of her, and her sympathy would be for him alone. Phoebe's jealousy was perhaps easier to understand and comment on, but that too would be hollow; she could understand both parties there, and Sunjata had been put in a hopeless situation where he'd have to hurt either or both of these precious women, and himself regardless of what choice he made.

"Delphia... the Daughter of Mort, that same person?" she asked instead, latching onto the only thing that seemed like it wouldn't hurt either of them to speak of. Perhaps he wanted her to comment on some of it, but Maea couldn't bring herself to do so, not just now.

SUNJATA

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

She lets him vent and that’s an absolute gold star in his book, drawing quiet at the end of his tale to let himself focus on her. His fingers continue their idle strokes, thinking nothing of it as she picks up on the daughter of Mort. A light smile blooms across his face at that, somewhat thankful she doesn’t comment on the spiderweb nightmare of his life. “The very same.” He offers her, softer, hoarse as he finally catches his breath though his inhales still remain short.

A thought strikes him then and he peers at her again curiously, smile softening. “Why do you ask?” A quieter question, hoping he hasn’t touched on something sensitive for her, keeping her close to await her response.

He hadn’t intended the conversation to go this way, but she hasn’t run off yet, and he wonders if perhaps she’s keeping her word, keeping their agreement in the quiet confines of each other’s embrace as the sun continues to drift through the sky. Gently, he holds her close and shifts in the water so that he can black the sun from her skin, inspecting to ensure she hasn’t burned as the tan deepens along his own.

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

MAEA

His voice is rough, his breath short. She doesn't know him well enough to think it strange, thought it a mere habit of speach as he asks of her interest in the person. Considering, she wonders if it would really be good to reveal the reason for her interest, but... in the end, it shouldn't matter.

"I've been looking for her," she told him. Holding on a little tighter as Sunjata moved them around, she felt the shade like a cooling sigh of relief on her shoulders. There is a flush of red along the parts of her skin that is not already covered, a tint of red on her cheeks that has nothing to do with blushes or embarrassment. Though she is taken aback by how easily he moves her about, even in the water. Like she weighs nothing, a mere doll to throw around as he pleased.

Still, she held on. For all that it hurt and distracted all at once, it was a rather comforting feeling, to be so close to another living being. She could feel him breathe, felt the pulse of a beating heart and breathe the scent from his skin - all water and smoke and... other things she didn't dare try to identify. He was alive, and present, and it was quite enough.

"I've... been given a task by Ludo. To chase out a menace from its woods. For that, I need Delphia."

Thinking of the most recent encounter with her favorite deity, her smile was a little different from before. A touch too affectionate, perhaps, seeing as it had sent her on a monster hunt that was sure to become dangerous.

SUNJATA

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

“Is that so?” He asks her with a dark raised brow as he spins them once more in the water, noticing the hues of red that brighten her pale skin, the hand tangled in the white of her hair leaves to brush some water along them, to cool the warmth he can feel radiating from the burns.

His eyes find hers once more as she divulges the reason why, a brighter smile crossing his face to that. “Ludo, huh?” He hums thoughtfully. “I’ve never met it. I’ve met Frey, and Attuned through Safrin.” He muses thoughtfully, reaching up with a cool, water kissed hand to brush his thumb along her burned cheeks if she lets him.

“I asked around for her and she came to me, if it helps.” He continues the slight stroke along her back with his other hand, withdrawing the hand at her cheek to run some of the water along the base of his neck, to wash over the compasses and scar, to wet the curls along the back of his neck and to let the water rush down from her arms as well. “I can teach you a few things for self defense, too, if the adventure turns harrowing.” Another rough response from his throat, his accent thicker once more as he spots the brightness of her smile, the excitement drawn beneath.

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

MAEA

"It's the only god who ever responded to my prayers," she admitted, fondness apparent as she spoke about the god. "I've seen Safrin in the distance, as she aided one of those fighting the Spire demon, and... Frey only at your wedding.

"Thankfully," she added, under her breath.

Remembering that particular god did make her blush again, recalling what she'd seen when it appeared. Just thinking about it made her stomach tighten, but for all that it was supposed to make her feel good, all she'd felt at the time was overwhelming unease. A strong desire to go bury herself somewhere cold and far away from people. Halo, had come to mind.

"I might try that. Saw a note on the board that she comes by the Temple every once in a while... Might be a tad more efficient than running around the Greatwoods looking." A rueful smile; it perhaps had not been entirely in vain. If she hadn't, she would not be here now, with Sunjata pouring cool water over her skin and fussing about the burns with gentle hands. Maea hissed a little at the touch to her cheek; it was tender, and his calloused fingers scraped at the flush even when he tried to be careful.

"Would you? I'd appreciate it. I don't really have much in the way of weapons... don't know if that's the kind of thing that will chase off what we're to hunt either. Supposedly it causes trouble for the souls trying to rest in the woods... Fighting it might require more than iron."

SUNJATA

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

He can understand the fondness she feels for Ludo — it’s the very same that he feels for Safrin, a deeper understanding and thankfulness for the deity that had changed them, adjusted them, helped them become something more. And he offers her a bright smile to that, nodding along and remaining quiet while she mentions she’ll try his tactic of asking around until Delphia comes to her.

Instead he focuses on his slight task of wetting her cheeks to cool the burns, fingers retreating as she hisses. “Sorry.” He hums quietly, giving an apologetic smile despite how he’d been trying to help. But his hands are large and rough in comparison, and she’s soft and smooth, and he can’t help but to want to continue to touch ever so gently should she let him.

But he drenched himself with more water, rising slightly as it rolls over his skin to block more of the sun from encroaching onto her, hand still tracing lazy circles along her spine, and his free hand now lifts more water to brush by her neck, fingertips soft and ghostlike along the space between where her shoulder and neck meets if she lets him. “Of course. I’m well versed in bows and daggers mostly, but I have a couple of swords and throwing knives I play with on occasion.” His gaze lifts from her neck to find her pale gaze, offering a soft boyish smile to her at the idea of seeing her with a weapon of that regard.

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

MAEA

Mutely, she just shook her head at the apology, knowing he meant no harm. The touches were growing more brazen, and she wasn't sure what to do. The hand on her back was fine, there was cloth in between and she was grateful she'd kept the shift on, thin though it was. But the fingers trailing her neck were not so easy to ignore. Her breath caught a little, the soft shudder visible even though she tried her damndest to suppress it.

Behind his neck, her fists closed, willpower keeping her from touching his hair again. It had been softer than she'd expected... But not hers to play with.

The little smile puzzled her, not sure what brought it on. For Maea the idea of combat and training was serious business, and the only thing she could think to make people smile on considering her in the context was scorn. Small, weak, unworthy.

Shrugging a little, she just said, "I bought a pair of daggers in Halo. Thought to give them off as a gift to someone, but... perhaps I should keep them for myself instead. Never was strong enough to draw the bow... My brother was a good shot though."

SUNJATA

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

He can see the effect he has when his fingers trace the skin along her neck, the hitch of her breath and the shudder that leaves her — but he pretends not to notice it. He does notice when her own hands stop touching his own and he pauses in layering the water over her exposed skin, hidden beneath the shadow of himself to stretch his head back slightly, a pop sounded from the muscle in his neck before he focuses on her again, this time continuing the water on the other shoulder, the other side of her neck.

She hasn’t told him to stop yet, and perhaps he’s a bit too greedy to at least take advantage of this if they’d agreed nothing more. A shame, to him.

He can feel her shrug and he looks away a small amount to the currents rushing in the river as she speaks, a quiet rumbling hum leaving his throat, sure it’ll reverberate against her arms that are still around his neck. “You just need to work up the muscle for it.” He offers in response to the bow, trailing his free hand to ghost along the top of her shoulder to one of the arms that’s connected to him, soft and tender touches along her bicep that cause his own to flex and shift with the movement. “Fortunately, it doesn’t take too long. But you’ll also need the right bow.” His gaze flits to hers when he finishes the inspection of her pale upper arm.

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

MAEA

There was a nasty little word called seduction, that the girl really disliked. In her mind it implied a lack of self control. The inability to think clearly and see people for what they really were, thereby avoiding unpleasant consequences. Unfortunately, she was now in a position to appreciate just how hard it could be to be sensible in such a situation. Or moral. Or ethical, even. Because with a few lingering touches and a little display of trust, her resolve was on the glide. She didn't resist the touches because in the end she didn't really want to. It felt good, it was... interesting to see how far he would dare go. How far she would let him go before it all went to pieces.

But at the same time, her mind was in a panic. The part of her brain that could still think quite clearly was screaming about boundaries, pride, guilt and kept bringing Phoebe's face to the forefront of her thoughts. It was all getting a bit too involved for her taste, nearing a line she wasn't sure she actually wanted to cross. Because he might not care if he hurt his wife, but Maea did. Cared about hurting herself too. And... really. It had gone too far already.

That said, she still couldn't really bring herself to move when his attention shifted to the other side of her neck. Cool water eased the burn, a soft touch by rough hands made the skin tingle... then moved again to the arm. Never still enough to let her get accustomed or settle with it. Just intimate enough to make her head go places she didn't want it to.

"Well... perhaps you could help me find one, then? I don't know what I should look for..." She sounded a touch distracted, and there was a wary look about her eyes as she met his gaze. A little uneasy, tense as though she was considering whether to bolt. Or stay. Or maybe... move closer.