hell to the stars

they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes

he's a demon, with a crown of blood

The flirtations get under her skin, and it does actually cause the amusement to rise within him. It’s easy, and he’s not exactly a shy kind of quiet man about it. He’s blunt, to the point, because in the end it’d always worked or fended off those that didn’t want it, and he could spend his time elsewhere.

And he notices when she turns a dark shade of red again, only adding to the smirk along his face. But he reaches for the bottle, and she does end up snatching it away to toss it in a bin, and he opens and closes his hand around the space where it had been, listening as she tells him he’s had enough.

He turns to her then, leaning against the bar on an elbow, head propped up by his hand. “Whatever else will I do?” He hums to her with a raise of his brow. “No wife to go home and listen to. Gotta remake my bed here and figure out how that’s gonna work. At least drinking was fun.” He feigns a pout, before exhaling and running his empty fingers along the gashes in the bar top.

does it look like he's still under your control?

SUNJATA

You're so cold

but you feel alive

"Poor lonely boy," she said dryly, and deposited the bottle with a resounding crash that suggested the glass had broken, its contents now thoroughly mixed with razor sharp fragments, thawing ice and the dregs previously scraped off the floor. An unappetizing slush of dust, debris and ruined alcohol, it was a shot only the very desperate or the very foolish would ever try to knock back.

Turning back to stare at him from across the room with hands on hips, Maea couldn't quite bring herself to look at him, her blood sizzling and surging, not quite able to set aside the agitation his teasing caused in her. As evidenced by the color staining her cheeks, her neck... even the hands.

"As far as I'm aware you've got two additional rooms here besides mine, and the beds are already made. Why not use one of those? As for fun...." She looked around, absorbing the gutted bar, the broken tables and chairs.

"At least there's room to dance now? Too bad there is no music." Her mouth quirked a little, wanting to smile; not even in her embarrassment could she give the desire to make him laugh.

lay your hands on me

one last time

MAEA

they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes

he's a demon, with a crown of blood

The crash of the bottle breaking in the trash has a surprising amount of indifference from him. He focuses on the gashes and charting of the bar top instead, dragging fingers over it in quiet thought. But he can feel her eyes on him now, and he turns somewhat to let his steel gaze wash over her in quiet consideration. She’s blushing so intensely, and the amusement still remains within him when she puts her hands on her hips and explains the room situations. “One of them is my niece’s room, too.” A quiet thought, a room for Melita, fire branded and who had helped set it all up — another surprise she’s to find, another stupid decision made she can taunt him about later. “I usually stay… Not exactly in the bar anyway. But close. At least I did until I got married.”

A quiet hum of consideration and his gaze lingers on her briefly before he looks a small amount sluggishly toward the hallway that leads to the rooms he’s opened as an Inn. “I’ve only ever stayed up here when it was with someone else.” He snorts, but the thick accent surrounding his words (growing thicker with the amount of drink he’s consumed) is even further fueled with a humming tone.

She mentions dancing though and he turns a bit more fully to face her, hands abandoning the scratches in the bar. “Mmm.” He begins, considering the offer. “I’m not sure I could dance right now.” He says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, wobbly enough as is.

does it look like he's still under your control?

SUNJATA

You're so cold

but you feel alive

Was she surprised at his admission to have slept around? Well... no. But it did help douse the churn in her stomach as she looked at him with raised brows; it was a bit like dousing sizzling embers with a bucketful of water. A lot of steam and a memory of heat, but no fire to be seen. She wondered if he'd ever been in her room during that kind of thing... and pushed the thought aside, uneasy with the images it brought to mind.

"You have a niece? I thought all your kin were dead or in Korofi still," she said, ignoring the comment about the 'company' altogether. Maea had not paid any attention to the ones who frequented the rooms beside hers, had chosen the one furthest away from this main hall to avoid running into revelers or have drunks pawing at her in the middle of the night.

Shrugging as her attempt fell short, the girl considered him. Tottering a bit where he stood, face droopy with drink, weariness and the weigh of all that had happened today... She shook her head. Went over, so she could look more closely at his eyes, see just how bloodshot they were.

"No," she agreed, not unkindly. "I don't think you could. To me, it looks as though you could use some sleep, for about a week or so.

"Where is this other place? If it's close enough to get to, I'll give you a shoulder if you need support..."

It was clear he'd get nothing more done here, and it would soon be more day than night. Come morning, there would be questions and work to deal with, people who demanded to know why they couldn't eat and drink, why the bar was closed, what really happened. It would all fall on Sunjata, and though she would gladly help him as much as she could, Maea couldn't take all of it away. The VlamVloed was his, and would need him to function.

lay your hands on me

one last time

MAEA

they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes

he's a demon, with a crown of blood

“Mmmmhm!” He manages, giving her a bright fanged smile. “I’dunno, really. It’s confusing because she’s not all that younger than I am but her dad was the same age or close to it.” He hadn’t quite figured it out himself, chalked it up to weird time fluxes with the portal. “Anyway, her dad was s’posed to marry my sister. He’s the one that got Lusea and I captured and tortured though because he ratted us out just so he could marry Saartjie.” His mouth forms a slight fine line of a frown and he looks away from her as if he’s thinking.

“I was pretty sure he died. He looked dead to me. But I guess not. He went to some place called ‘Helovia’ and met Melita’s mother.” Broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “I guess he was a pretty shit father — big surprise, I know — so I’ve been teaching her about Korofi.” He’s not sure when he became so rambly, but before he can accurately realize it, she’s standing before him and he peers down at her.

Sleep does sound good, between everything that’s happened and what’s going on now, well. It’s probably for the best. So he reaches out, aiming to rest his hand on her shoulder to lean on her a small amount, beginning to walk toward the exit of the bar through the back Maea had slipped through. “It’s close. But, uh, follow me since there’s traps and stuff.” He gives her an encouraging grin.

does it look like he's still under your control?

SUNJATA

You're so cold

but you feel alive

The explanation was a touch hard to follow, but what Maea really cared about was the happy grin that appeared when talking about this Melita. Even if it was not kin by blood, he still had a connection there, something that meant something. She was glad of it, happy to finally have him show any emotion other than brooding or flirting... especially when the latter probably was more camouflage for what went on in his head than sincere tonight.

"I see. Well, if she's staying here too then I hope I will get to speak to her. Would be nice to talk with someone who's not stumbling over their own tongue every other word," she teased.

Letting Sunjata lean on her as much as he needed, the girl took hold of the back of his shirt to keep him steady and followed his lead, curious about where he was taking her. There were many places to hide in within the Sanctuary, with the ruins sprawling across the better part of what had once been a thriving city. Even now, after three hundred years, only a portion of it had been rebuilt, and only rudimentarily. Still, in this part of the town she expected only a house of some kind, perhaps a room in a collective for those who had neither family nor other kin to live with.

"Where are we going?" she asked. The air outside felt cool compared to the stuffy bar, and she pulled deep on the scents of faded greens, people and long since extinguished cooking fires.

lay your hands on me

one last time

MAEA

they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes

he's a demon, with a crown of blood

“She’s around, though she goes off to adventure sometimes.” He shrugs, leaning into her and letting her hand clutch the back of his shirt. The minute they’re outside, the cool air is a brisk refreshment to his drunkenly flushed skin, and he takes as deep of an inhale as he can, guiding her into the homes backyard of sorts, to the basement section created and attached to the bar, rounding a corner and leading her through the dark. “To the Guild.” He rumbles by way of explanation, hand flexing on her shoulder somewhat as if he’s tried to gesture but couldn’t find the effort to remove the amount he leans into her.

“Okay. Follow my lead.” He says, stepping down the stairs in specific places, well practiced and well versed to avoid the traps that laid within. And when they reach the bottom and he opens the door, pausing to let her in. “Ladies first.” He hums with a slightly boyish smile crossing his face, and when she does she’ll notice the inside laid with books and weapons, plenty of furs and clothes and trinkets. A relatively comfy couch sits within, beds to the back wall in case someone needed to hide out, and right at the front — a large oak desk that Sunjata heads straight for.

He reaches it, trying to collect a bit of papers from the information regarding Peter’s trip to Halo, stuffing it inside one of the drawers. Though if she looks, she’ll find a few smaller notes, written with precise and well refined letters, a well practiced writing from someone who’d been taught to write from as early as he could. “Welcome to the Advocates, Maea.” He rumbles to her, before reaching up to take his golden earrings from his ears, placing them into a box on the desk, before turning to lean against it and look at her, seeing what she thinks.

does it look like he's still under your control?

SUNJATA

You're so cold

but you feel alive

It was not always easy, having such a large man place all his weight on her at random intervals. Even when she braced for it she found herself nearly crumbling under him at times, having to shore up from the toes to lever him upright again. The little grip on the shirt soon became a far firmer hold around his middle, and she was admittedly a bit relieved by the time he stopped only a short distance away to open a cellar door. The revelation of where they were headed sent a thrill of excitement down her skin. His explanation of the shady guild had been brief and offered little details, leaving her to imagine what dastardly and dishonorable things they might be doing when no one noticed. To find out that it was located under the very bar where she had been sleeping in blissful ignorance, was startling to say the least.

Maea made sure to hold the skirts of her dress up as she followed Sunjata down the stairs. A few times she worried that he would wobble and step wrong somewhere, but by the mercy of some god - probably not Frey - they reached the bottom in one piece. The girl was curious about the nature of the 'traps', but not so much that she wanted to try them on herself. She looked around the room beyond the door, stepping past Sunjata as he held it open for her. Slowly, she turned on the spot, taking in the details with keen eyes that seemed to memorize everything; the items lying about, notes and papers - though he was quick enough in hiding them, and she wasn't interested in snooping when that was his job - and little personal belongings clearly left behind by some guild member or another.

Turning her attention back to Sunjata, a thought struck her that made her head tilt, that pale gaze turning thoughtful.

"You're the guildmaster here, aren't you," she asked him. He'd never said as much, though perhaps she should have realized it based on the name, the play on words alluding to his horns (not knowing that it was entirely coincidental) but now that the realization had dawned on her... he became an entirely different beast, somehow. Gone was the laughing boy from the river, the steady teacher from her lessons, the kind caring person who'd held her and kept her warm after her magic wrought havoc in her system. Instead, Maea saw for the first time quite clearly what he'd warned her about before. The soldier, the killer, the thieving spymaster who ran his operations right under the unsuspecting noses of the ordinary citizens.

A kind man. A dangerous man. Again that thrill rizzled down her spine; part intimidation, part exhilaration. There was an allure to it, being allowed to peer into the darkness like this.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" she asked, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

lay your hands on me

one last time

MAEA

they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes

he's a demon, with a crown of blood

There’s a part of being here that sobers him up, enough to put away the sharp weapons and notes of operations. His attention sweeps over the rest, jackets and furs slung over from the chill of Deepfrost, the trinkets golden and bright that reflect the light around the room as he lights more candles to illuminate it. His steps are a bit steadier, and when he leans against the desk to look at her when she questions if he’s the leader.

“Yep. Third one. The rest either died or didn’t want it.” He shrugs to it, as though it didn’t matter, but his fingers tap along the wood of the desk as he glances around it. “I always had the Overseer position though, until I became the leader of it.” He hums somewhat thoughtfully, before his eyes land on her again and he offers a small smile.

“We agreed you’d be able to do some work for me, if you’d wanted to. So sure, why not?” He doesn’t see the harm in it. She promised his secrets were safe with her. He intends that she keeps it true. “Make yourself comfortable.” He tells her, before pushing off the desk he’d been leaning on. “Aaaand I’m going to change.” It’s a half rumble, stepping a few steps over toward a dresser of sorts, pulling off his shirt to begin with his back to her, bruises along his spine a deep hue in the shadows of the light, tattoos stark as they travel down his shoulder blades in a swath of feathers. And then he focuses on sifting through one of the drawers for some of his things.

does it look like he's still under your control?

SUNJATA

You're so cold

but you feel alive

The change in him compared to upstairs was big enough that she took note of it, and it only heightened her sense of being in the room with a stranger. A good reminder, because they still were. LongHeat had not even reached its peak yet, and though their contact had been rather frequent since she came around the first time, asking for help, it was not a whole lot of time.

Not enough to really know anyone.

Accepting his reasoning with a bow of the neck, Maea strolled over to one of the book stacks and began to pick through them, to see what kind of subjects might interest this particular crowd. She carefully kept her eyes away as he undressed, meant to do the polite, well mannered thing and keep her back turned. But in the corner of her eye, Maea saw darkness splashed over his shoulders, and couldn't help but to look up. The bruises were impossible to miss. They looked brutal, as if he'd been hit with something at least once and taken the full blow without flinching away. She thought of Phoebe, about the way the midwife had destroyed the bar, and wondered to what lengths he had gone to protect the few things that remained. Lusea's lantern, cradled in his hands, came to mind.

But beyond the injuries, what really kept her looking was the inkwork. The feathers that bloomed from the compass needles by the base of his neck and swept down to cover the shoulders. Last time she'd seen him with a bare torso he had been facing her most of the time, covered to the neck in water. Though she had traced the lines over his arms and upper shoulders, this was something Maea hadn't seen before. It was a masterpiece, massive wings that made her fingers itch to touch them. See if blue feathers might sprout from his back, like they had before.

"It's beautiful," she murmured softly, flinching to realize that she'd said it out loud. Biting her tongue, she hesitated a little - but it was already to late to pretend she hadn't been watching him. "Does it mean something, to have wings on the back?" she asked, and turned around, keeping the eyes on the book in her hands instead. Sunjata had said something about the tattoo being for his mother, but Maea didn't know if there was a significance beyond that. If it represented something.

lay your hands on me

one last time

MAEA

they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes

he's a demon, with a crown of blood

He can’t quite find a shirt that’s loose enough to keep him comfortable and relatively cool in the warmth that radiates from him, and so he sifts longer and longer as he goes from drawer to drawer, until he hears her soft voice and he doesn’t quite understand at first, pausing in his search. “Hmm?” He hums, tilting his head to look over at her over one shoulder.

And she clarified, and he understands, nodding slightly as he goes back to digging through the drawer. “They were my first tattoos.” He begins, though the story runs a bit deeper than that. “In Korofi, especially for nobles, had specific rules against getting tattoos or piercings or anything. They basically said the only alterations to the body would be the scars of battle,” clearly it’s said in an almost singsong tone, mocking in a sense. “So when I joined the rebellion, Lusea’s father mentioned to me that if I wanted to really get back at my father I should get a tattoo.” He pauses in his search once more, fingers tapping against the wood before he looks back at her over his shoulder.

“So, they’re kind of a ‘fuck you dad’ sort of thing. That and having the freedom to fly, that he couldn’t clip my wings. Something my mother wanted.” The ironic thing being he’d finally found his wings here, of all places. “It backfired though when my father found out and he killed my mother.” It almost seems like it doesn’t phase him, but his mother had been the one that encouraged the taking flight from under his fathers nose. And with it, bittersweet.

does it look like he's still under your control?

SUNJATA

You're so cold

but you feel alive

Listening far more than she actually looked to be doing, Maea set the book down and picked up another, reading the title without quite registering what it said. The reasoning was one she thought very typical of Sunjata, from what little she knew of him so far. The stubbornness, the refusal to do as anyone else said. A master of his own seas, or at least trying to be, he'd sooner mark his own body to spite someone else than allow them to control it. All things considered, she was a little surprised that this conflict with Phoebe had ended so soon, and so painlessly as it still had. None of them were hurt - though she looked at his bruises again, wondering - and though the psychological damage would surely linger for a long time, it could have been worse. Far worse.

"I'm sorry about your mother," she said, her voice expressing the pain his did not. Maea had never known hers, but the pain at her loss was still ingrained in her, like a piece of her was missing. Irrevocably removed and destroyed. "It almost sounds like you were set up... Like he was meant to find out, somehow. Maybe I'm wrong." After all, she had no idea what part Lusea's father had played in the rebellion.

Recalling something, Maea considered the bindings of the tome between her hands, thoughts far away. "That night, when I slipped up... I think I saw wings? Blue ones... Were you flying?" It was a hazy image, muddled by panic and twisted by her own blurred vision in that dark tavern room... but it came with the sound of flapping wings, of a draft of rushing air where there should have been none.

lay your hands on me

one last time

MAEA

they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes

he's a demon, with a crown of blood

Unfortunately, Sunjata was incredibly easily manipulated when it came to his mentality. His father had done it since he was born, the only reprieve being his mother who’d given him enough courage to make a change, to take a stand. And she’d paid for it in the end. Maea’s apology is granted a quiet nod, though whether she sees it or not, it does mean something. His mother had been kind, sweet, rebellious in her own way. The fact she was married to his father was the worst thing about her.

“I mean… It kind of was an all around thing.” He rumbles, pulling a shirt out and half turning toward her with an almost solemn look crossing his exhausted face. “The rebellion was pretty proud to have me there, and they liked to show off all their ‘notable’ members. So they aired a picture of me and my tattoos as a sort of taunt.” He’s not sure if it’ll make sense or not. “And we didn’t expect my father to react that way.” He shrugs, reaching up to rub at his neck. “He’d never really been violent to anyone except toward me, but decided my mother was a traitor and took it out on her.” His gaze lifts toward the back of her when she speaks next.

The wings, the navy plumes. He slips the shirt on, carefully as he can over his horns, before shifting into his macaw form and flies toward the bookshelf she’s at, talons digging into the wood, hanging almost upside down, one wing outstretched toward her shoulder with a cock of his head. He’d certainly got his wings now.

does it look like he's still under your control?

SUNJATA

You're so cold

but you feel alive

Swallowing, the girl tried to imagine that kind of environment. Where everything was a dangerous game, a battle of wills, and the people closest to you were not necessarily allies, or even a source of strength. It seemed a harsh, brutal place even to her who had grown up with people dying from starvation, landsharks and monsters in the too-long night, trapped in a bubble and unable to do anything but cope and survive. If she had been forced to give up dreams to work hard and settle for the harsh realities that they never came true for the living, then Sunjata had been the opposite - forced to chase those dreams beyond what was fair, to ensure that he didn't die in another way.

A curious mirroring of their circumstances, yet still there were so many similarities that Maea marveled at it. She stood lost in thought for a while, not quite finding anything to say that wouldn't be another 'sorry', when he shifted. Shrunk away, melted into large wings so vibrantly blue they were almost purple. She shied back a little when he came towards her, afraid of getting in the way somehow, and gaped at bird as it dug claws into the bookshelf. The wing stretched out towards her, as if to say that he had real ones too, not just the ink; with a startled laugh she held out a hand, carefully brushing a finger over the tips of the large feathers.

"I knew it," she said, almost relieved to know she hadn't imagined the touch of color to that black and white nightmare. "Fish, cat, goat, now bird... is there anything you are not, Sunjata? I think your mother would have been very happy to see you with wings like these... You can go wherever you want now, and no one would be able to stop you."

lay your hands on me

one last time

MAEA