It's a feeling we always chase

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Maea carefully managed a smile at the way Sunjata struggled to accomodate Haai. The pup was a pup no longer, big and strong and beautiful. A delightful menace, just like Maea had predicted when first seeing her. How was it only a season ago?

"That's the thing though, isn't it. It would affect you. It would affect everyone, if magic suddenly becomes stronger. That's one thing that make me hesitate," she siged. Scraping the last bite from her bowl, she savored it, then set her dish aside. There was food left, enough for a morning meal or more; but she was full, had eaten more and better than in a good while. Maea leaned back too, tracing the rim of the whiskey glass with her finger.

"It's only speculation at this point, still. I think I'll need permission from the Warden to undertake another expedition... Ah, that's what the report was about that I gave Jigano, when we spoke to him," she added, recalling that Sunjata wouldn't know about it. "I was part of a group that investigated one of the old mines outside Whitebrim. We only found cannibals though... and their food stash."

Grimacing, she shook her head. Regretting the recollection of what they had found; she sipped the whiskey to forget the ghost of old bile on her tongue.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

“It would in the sense we’d be powerless. Accepted at least have the ability to call upon a god for help… But if my brawl with Loren was any consideration, my shifts are useless compared to magic.” He frowns at this, sipping from the whiskey again, thoughtfully.

The realization that she’d stumbled across one of the cannibals food reserves has him nodding slightly, a somewhat distant look in his eye. “I know Amalia is still pissed at me about it, but I don’t regret killing that cannibal.” A quiet admission as he blinks a few times to clear his gaze and look back at her. He lets it settle for a few moments longer before pushing Haai off his lap and moving to stand to clean up the dishes.

“Do you think Neron would let you?” He asks quietly, running the water until it’s hot and steaming, rinsing out the bowl before grabbing a sponge and some soap.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

She nodded, her thoughts aligned on the same page. "I think... that it's a potentially dangerous thing, to put power into the hands of anyone, and especially those who already possess it," she agreed. "And at the same time... Magic can improve the lives of everyone, in so many different ways." She gestured around the kitchen, where many of the functions had been brought on by magic. The faucet and the running water was only one of them.

Maea rose to help clear the table, setting aside the leftovers and wiping down the surfaces with a cloth while Sunjata took care of the dishes. "I honestly don't know what Neron might say. I've met him all of once since I came to Halo, and spoke to him only in passing, when we finished the work on the Academy. He's not a very public figure..." She shrugged, and settled in beside Sunjata to keep him company when she was done with her self appointed tasks.

"I think you did the right thing too, Sunjata.To be honest... I think the cannibal problem is a thing Neron should do something about." She frowned, tugging a strand of hair behind an ear. "They're people too, and only out there because they've been cast out from the Citadel. It shouldn't be impossible to find another way to deal with rebels and outlaws. Leaving them in the wild to starve is just cruel."

A heavy subject to discuss after dinner to be sure, but Maea was happy just to keep the conversation running. She felt good now, warm and calm and full... drowsy, if she allowed herself to feel it. But she didn't quite want to leave this peace behind just yet.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

He considers her point of view, mulling it over quietly while she gestures to the kitchen. “This can be done with technology too… Just takes time and research to get it there.” A quiet admission of the niceties that he’d had in Korofi, where no magic reigned and no gods to help. “It is pretty nice though.” He agrees with the ghost of a smile crossing his face.

But then he’s working on the dishes and she’s cleaning the table and he contemplates her words further, mind melding with the alcohol even more to create that comfortable buzz. He nods when she comments that Neron isn’t much of a public figure — sometimes it’s better that way.

But the comment of the cannibals being cast out from the citadel has him taking a quiet, long breath as he scrubs at a bowl. “What else would they do? If their crimes were big enough, it seems a reasonable alternative rather than having to imprison them and use what little resources Halo had to keep them alive.” As someone with experience who had been part of those cast out for breaking laws, well, it was lucky they had been able to smuggle food for their operation. “Cruelty is all in the eye of who’s viewing it. Might be cruel to one person, well deserved in another’s mind.” There really wasn’t a right or wrong, too delicate of a scenario as it always was.

And he was supposed to be one of those judges, one of those enforcers.

Soon enough he finishes the dishes, sets them on a rack to dry before drying off his hands and turning to face her with a small shrug.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Chewing her lip, Maea considered the views he offered. They differed from hers, and not for the first time she was frustrated to find herself contradicted, her opinions challenged. It happened so often lately, and the small reserves of confidence she had gained in recent times were set to quiver and shake.

The problem was, she supposed, that Maea preferred black and white answers. Either it was, or it wasn't. Right or wrong, cruel or kind, yes or no and nothing in between. It was the same issue she bumped into with their relation too... so quick to settle for one idea, one side and one truth that she stopped considering that it might not be the end all solution.

"I suppose there's never really a right answer, is there," she sighed, both in response to his arguments and her own insight. "Why does the world have to be so complicated?" The lament was a little petulant, a little childish, but she smiled and rolled her eyes at her own frustration. Amused by the desire to keep things simple and understandable and avoid thinking too deeply... A small laziness on her part.

"Thank you for the meal," she said with a softer smile, on seeing him finish up the dishes. Maea pushed herself away from the bench, and hovered uncertainly, not sure what came next. Sleep? It was pitch black outside, the night deep and dark...

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

He listens to her quiet admission, glances over to see the roll of her eyes, and he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face to that. “Too many people.” He winks to her. Because in the end, the more people there were, the more variation there could be. And one simple result to fixing something for the majority wouldn’t work for everyone. And that’s what tended to make it complicated.

But now? Now as he finishes the dishes and turns to look at her — now he realizes with the alcohol and how late it is, how warm and content he is, that it must be time to sleep. But how, was the question. So he looks at her a small amount curiously, shifting in his stance to fold his arms along his chest. “Thank you for making it.” He says quietly as he thinks on it, offering her an easier smile.

“I don’t… Have much in the means of places to sleep.” He admits a bit ruefully. Really there’s only the bed and the couch, and out of the two of them the bed was the most comfortable. But he does know one thing, that while he doesn’t want to agree to doing anything or being official again while he works to figuring things out, he still wouldn’t mind holding her for the night, sharing it with her in a way that it should have been.

So he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, thoughtfully. “But the bed is comfortable and big enough. If not, there’s the couch. Though that definitely leaves your back sort of messed up if you don’t sleep on it right.” He snorts to that, gaze drifting back to her for her decision. In the end, he wonders how much she means that she wouldn’t mind the idea of company and fun while he figures things out. He supposes he’ll find out.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

And just like that, they ran out of words. No more stalling, no more things to say... He thanked her for making the food and then handed her a choice like it was just another bag of potatoes. Bed or couch. With him, or without.

And there were no right choices, because even here in this house empty of any but them, there were too many people. Too many truths, too many warring ideas of how things should be.

It all came down to her, then? What she wanted, what she needed? Maea hesitated, stood locked in painful indecision. Thoughts whirling. What did this mean, what would the consequences be, what did it mean, the bed was big enough? For two, for sleeping without touching, for comfort or just big enough? Ah, she was overthinking everything again, wasn't she...

Maea swallowed hard. Knew it was her choice this time. He had offered, and she couldn't lob the question back. Did he want her to stay with him? Probably, or the couch would be her only option. Simple equations. What did she want?

The color on her cheeks answered for her. Before she'd reached a conscious choice, her body moved on its own, taking a tentative step towards him. A quiet surrender of all rules and principles, defeat of the mind to the heart.

Him. She would always choose him. Which meant... "The bed." A quiet answer, a little weak, a lot trembling... no one else would have heard it.

But he always did.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

He gives her the bone to figure out what it is she wants to do. Opens it up for her to take the distance she might want or to give in and cross the threshold to him. And he watches her almost as if the war between them rages on in her head, slowly but surely coming to a result. And he waits, patiently, a little buzzed, to hear what her decision is.

Then, she steps toward him, confirms the bed and he steps toward her as well. “Alright.” A hand outstretched to grab hers, he can’t help the soft smile that plays on his face. “I apologize for any left behind feathers in the bed.” He rumbles to her with some amusement, aiming to take her hand and guide her through the living room to the stairs that lead to the bedroom.

Of course, this is the only part of the house he has to duck in, and he does as he reaches the top. Letting her hand go to move toward some candles on the side of the bed to light them and offer some small amount of light despite the blue hue of the moon through the window. Then, he clears off the bed of any of those navy feathers, only a few this time from his tossing and turning.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

It was probably the scariest thing she had ever done. That small step towards him brought her across a line where her rules suddenly didn't apply anymore. There were no words to define them anymore, to describe what they were, what it meant when he held out a hand and she took it.

Sunjata joked about feathers on the bed, smiled softly at her, and she smiled back. But whatever calm or comfort he might feel did not quite reach her. There was only the electricity zipping up her arm from the feel of his fingers around hers, and a void of uncertainty opening up under her feet as he led the way to the stair, up the steps to the loft. Even as he let go of her hand, the warmth of his palm lingered on her skin; Maea rubbed it with her other hand, trying to shake the feeling of somehow being outside herself. Looking in on a scene that didn't seem quite real.

She was scared, the girl realized. Like never before. Maea stared at the bed, at the room around her, at the tall stormcloud of a man who went about the room with calm confidence of someone who had already made themselves at home. Her hands ached from a cold spreading down with the tension of her shoulders.

Did she really know this person? Had he ever kissed her, held her, had she ever pressed herself against him, burning with a hunger only he could sate? Entrusted him with all the was, and felt confident that he was hers? It felt so distant. Like another lifetime, when... ah, it was only days ago that he took her against that wall over there. Surrendered what she thought was everything.

Back when there were still rules. When she knew what she risked, what she could ask for and how much to give before it hurt. Everything.

And now?

Nothing felt safe anymore. Least of all him.

For the first time ever, Maea turned her back to him as she reached for the buttons of the collar. Fingers numb and stiff as she began to undress, slow and unsure. Her tension palpable.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

She’s quiet and reserved, a huge shift from how she’d once been. And he’s not sure if it’s the fact that their footing is still uncertain, if the way she had still chosen to stay in the bed with him had been some rule of hers she’s breaking. To him? It doesn’t matter much.

He just knows he’ll sleep well tonight, all things considered.

So he gives her whatever privacy she requires, slipping away to pull the shirt from his torso and setting it with the rest to be washed, removing the bandage left behind and placing those somewhere else as well. And he removes everything aside from his shorts — slipping into the bed with plenty of furs to keep warm and a variety of down pillows to rest their heads against.

The bow Deimos made him sits in the corner, as does the brass knuckles Remi had made him. A variety of weapons remain, as well as a few books — parchment and papers he’s been adding to with plans that he rolls onto his side to light the candle there as well as slip the papers into a drawer. No need to add more of a headache in the end.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Maea was trapped in a maelstrom of churning thoughts, most circling around laments of how things could have been, should have been. Her silence was not challenged or broken, her tension not questioned. Was she grateful for it? Or would she have preferred some comfort, some sign that he was aware of her conflicts, and cared about soothing worries?

In the end, she got no sympathy. Just space while he did his own preparations, which left her feeling cold and strangely alone as she removed the dress and the shift, crawling in beneath the blankets with everything but underwear removed. Was this what it meant to be responsible for her own choices then? No one to lean on but herself... For all the warmth of furs and blankets, of whiskey in blood and food in her belly, Maea felt... hollow.

She pulled the blankets high up under the chin, curled up on her side with the back turned to Sunjata, and plenty of space between them. Gazed with unseeing eyes at the burning candles on the beside. Why had he lit them?

"Goodnight," she said quietly, and closed her eyes. Doubting very much that she would get any sleep with so much twisting in her mind.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

She slips under the blankets and turns her back to him, and the tension in the air is once again palpable. And he mulls it over a small amount, shifting to turn his head toward her with a slightly raised brow — despite all that he can see is the puff of white of her hair and the rise of her body beneath the blankets.

Her goodnight to him does little to quell the anxieties that rage within him and his buzzed state. So he inhales deeply, rolls onto his side and props his head up a small amount with his arm to look down at her.

“Wait.” A quiet question. “Thought for a thought?” He asks, staring down at her form, wondering if she’ll take him up on it. As he waits, he pushes down the blankets a small amount, propping an arm over them, inches away from hers as he prepares his own thought.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

She didn't know what to expect anymore. Had chased herself into a mental corner where she was trapped and out of options, lost and alone. So when Sunjata spoke, not to return her goodnight but to ask for a game... she couldn't bring herself to feel surprised. Or much of anything. Seems you could feel to the point of numbness.

"... alright," Maea replied. She feel him shift behind her, and his presence was the burn of flinthopper sparks on the skin, of peppermint bark on the tongue, the prickling numbness of going too close to a barrier that was no longer there, of clinging to the bars of a cage while proffessing a desire to be utterly free from everything and everyone.

All contradictions.

She didn't offer anything up. Waited for him to start.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

A quiet ‘Alright’ is all he receives, and so he leans back a small amount, eyes flitting from her back toward the candles and the rest of the room, as bare as it was — made brighter by her here. And he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol that shifts his mind, or whatever else it may be… But all he knows is that he can’t stop the words from falling from his lips when they begin to.

So he takes a deep breath, leans back into his back and stares at the ceiling next. “I think that while I still need time to figure things out… that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to hold you tonight.” He rumbles quietly. “I think that maybe for tonight I want to pretend that it’s like that first night we were here. How it should have gone.” He keeps his gaze focused on the ceiling.

His freehand runs along the furs of the blanket. “There’s two.” He offers, shoving the rest of them down. “Your turn.”

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell