(SE) twist the knife, break my heart, put it back

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

He’s already made a lantern for Lusea – made one last year, actually, for the festival. And it had been a treasured item, now chipped and slightly scratched from the disaster at the bar. But he’d moved it to Torchline, keeping it close to him as he could, finding a place for it in his home. Today, however, he plans on making one for Peter. So he’s brought the lantern for Lusea with him as a memory and inspiration seeing as it’s been a year since he’d crafted one.

Peter’s, he decides, is going to be a bit different. Not the bronze and fire of Lusea’s lantern. But something smooth and soft, a gentle hue of his personality. Something quiet, but still there. He contemplates glass at first, perhaps a mosaic of sorts, and blue for his eyes. But he’ll need some supplies, slipping outside of the boxing ring to head toward the beaches of sorts, searching for rogue shells and anything else that might spark some interest.

Haai is on his heels, prancing along the sands to find anything of interest. His own gaze lingering on the sands until he finds a rather small almost kind of marbled shell, white and streamed with blue, a circular shape that intrigues him.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

Hotaru

Ever since the leaves have started falling, her mood has gone alongside each one. It is a time for remembrance and honoring the dead, but how can she do that when her son is not truly departed? Still caught in the throes of purgatory, unable to rest. Unable to join the rest of their family in the beyond.

Her heart aches anew every morning as she stares out sightlessly from her sheets. Her son. Her only son. Lost time and again, lost before she was ever able to lay a hand upon his cheek once more, or place a kiss upon his mighty brow. Ru'in had been so young when she had lost him the first time. What kind of man had he become? What had she missed in their time apart? Questions she will never have answers for. He feels so close sometimes, as if she merely needs to turn around and he'll be standing there in the path, as familiar to her as her own soul. Hotaru knows in her heart that no matter what shape her son could take, she would know him.

And now she never will again.

It hurts worse, somehow, than the ache of tragedy she has been carrying since Helovia's destruction. At least she can imagine the rest of her family happy and healthy in some other realm. She cannot do the same for Ru'in. And so she spends her days combing through this new land, hunting down materials, devoting herself entirely to the creation of this lantern in hopes it will somehow ease the agony in her breast.

It won't. She knows that, but as the weather grows colder and the time looms closer where her son's soul will return, will be present once more...she becomes desperate.

Hotaru isn't expecting Sunjata of all people. When does she ever expect it to be him? He seems to be scanning around just as she does, and she quietly moves to intercept his path, face drawn and pale. "Looking for something?" Her voice is tired, but at least she's trying.

I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do this alone

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

The last person he expects to see is Hotaru standing in his path — dragging his gaze from the sand and shells, to the woman standing before him, looking deflated, dull, far less exuberant than she usually was. A slight frown crosses his face, not because of seeing her but because of the state she appears to be in.

So he pauses in his step while Haai immediately goes to investigate the woman with puffs of smoke leaving her maw, nose seeking to sniff her legs in a quiet greeting. Sunjata, meanwhile, inhales deeply and steps toward her. “Looking for supplies to make a lantern.” He offers, a slight shrug before moving to stand beside her. “I didn’t expect to see you in Torchline?” Perhaps a slightly probing question, but he can’t help but to ask — glancing around briefly for any sign of Deimos.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

Hotaru

A part of her recognizes the slight frown that mars his handsome features, but the rest simply does not care. He has seen her at her worst, seen her in the throes of recollection, even could likely deduce the source of her depression considering the season. Instead she focuses on the new companion she has seen following the man, whom she has not been properly introduced to. Giving a wan smile she squats slightly to extend her hand to the inquisitive creature sniffing at her legs, letting it inspect her at its leisure. Were it any other time, perhaps she'd tease it. Ask what a cutie like it is doing with a surly man like Sunjata. But there's simply no energy for the task.

Straightening, she pushes her hair away from her face as the wind blows it across her cheeks, Sunjata's words easier to hear as he moves closer. "As am I." She had wanted raw materials, wanted to symbolize as much of her son's soul as possible in the final product that would hopefully help her get through the season. As Sunjata moves beside her she continues walking, intent on continuing her search even if it's at a more sedate pace. "For all my love of snow and ice, the ocean is quite beautiful. Plus it's my duty to explore and discover any information I can." Here she lifts her wrist to show off the bracelet he'd put on her. It's all that she's really willing to say on the matter. An excuse really, but he doesn't need to know that. "I thought you already made a lantern for Lusea?" Had somebody else died recently that she wasn't aware of?

I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do this alone

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

Haai is thoroughly pleased with the woman, sniffing and licking a kiss to her hand when it’s offered, before padding back to head the way and find small little hermit crabs to chase along the surface of the sands while Sunjata moves to step beside her – keeping pace with her as she begins to walk. The lantern comment is met with a nod, filtering through those of her children she’d lost as a frown crosses his face to that.

“Are you planning to make more than one?” Another quiet unsaid question – that if she wanted help with making multiple, he would. But when she comments about the ice and snow, he nods in understanding – steel gaze slipping to the gold around her wrist, the night that had come after he’d slipped it onto her skin and he looks away.

Her comment of Lusea has him nodding, however, keeping an eye out for anything interesting. “I did. This one’s for Peter.” He frowns a bit further then, a heavy exhale leaving him. “Peter and Adam both died when we went to try and get the dragon to finish the shrine in the temple.” The way his voice deepens here its clear it bothers him, but he tries his best to keep it all under wraps – even around her, not wanting to burden her with more of his problems, his mistakes in life.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

Hotaru

Hotaru is just as charmed as the Griffin, giving the bold creature a warm smile that has a little more strength than what she has been managing lately. It makes her heart ache for Alice, feeling the torn remnants of her own bond in her heart. But she strives to keep it from turning into a dark and lonely jealousy, because she knows how dearly she'd held Alice in her soul, and if anyone deserves that bond it's Sunjata.

As they walk, his question comes to her on the salty air, and she hums softly before giving a short shake of her head. "No...I was thinking I would light candles for the others. They may still be out there, alive and well, where I can't reach them." Perhaps too hopeful of an outlook, perhaps she's merely torturing herself, but grieving them is impossible without a firm answer. A mother will always hope.

As she'd suspected, it's not for Lusea. Both names are only vaguely familiar to her, flashes of faces she'd only seen once at a meeting flickering in her mind's eye. She hadn't grown close to them, had formed no attachment, but she can hear the weight Sunjata tries to hide in his tone, and the 'we' implies witnessing their demises or perhaps feeling responsible for them. Gently she reaches out to touch his wrist - aware she has no right to clasp his hand any longer - and hopes it brings him some kind of comfort as she turns her bi-hued gaze to him. "I'm sorry, Sunjata." Because anything else would be insincere. She did not know these men in more than passing ways, but clearly he held them in some sort of regard if he cared enough to make lanterns for them. And that is a grief she knows well, and hopes to help mediate for him. Turning her gaze back to the beach she releases his wrist, eyes combing for material once more. Stopping and kneeling to pluck sea glass from the sands, holding it to the light and admiring the color before deciding it will fit with her idea, and adds it to her bag.

I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do this alone

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

There’s a nod to Hotaru with that statement as Haai begins to trot along the beach. He filters through the names she’d given him, the ones that had certainly perished in the nights of Caido, before a frown finds his face and he glances toward her. “For Ru’in then?” Because he remembers – he couldn’t forget the way she’d torn herself apart before him, built herself back up, how he’d destroyed what trust she had granted in him.

He’s surprised she remains at his side right now, in fact.

But instead of commenting on that, he shifts in his steps a small amount as she reaches for his wrist – a touch to it he knows quite well, the way she had done it before with the announcement of Lusea. And his gaze drifts down toward her at her apology. He nearly lets the ‘it’s okay’ slip from his lips – but it’s not okay, none of it is okay. So he settles for a nod to her, letting her hold his wrist for as long as she chooses. “Thank you.” He says instead, his arm dropping back to his side as Haai trots back up with another shell of interest. He scratches behind her ears, taking it and adding it to the collection, before looking back to Hotaru.

“I made a boxing ring here. I plan on moving the Guild’s headquarters up here, actually. If you need a place to make it I have supplies there.” An offer toward her, hand outstretched to guide her the way as Haai puffs a small amount of smoke out toward the woman with a wag of her tail.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

Hotaru

Her son's name on this man's lips is both benediction and burden. That he had committed her story to memory is something that helps ease the pain, reminds her that for all their misgivings and mistakes, they are still friends. In another way it is only a bitter reminder of all she had revealed in her weakest moment, only for him to hold her tight and leave to wed another woman within hours of catching her tears upon his calloused fingers. Hotaru's next breath shakes a little as her son's heterochromic eyes - so like her own - flash behind her eyes which blink too fast to chase away a sudden swell of fresh tears. She has cried far too much as of late, and she won't let herself do it now. "Yes," she whispers instead, letting the wind carry it to his ears as she stares out across the sand.

In many ways the touch is just as grounding for herself. Only partially aware of how often she does this, how much of a habit it has become to wrap her small hand around his wrist, to feel his pulse drum against her fingertips as proof that he is here and whole beside her. As so many now are not. Many whose losses they are not even aware of. His gratitude is met with only a dip of her head, golden hair swaying with the motion as she withdraws her hand.

"It would be a better front than what we have now," she agrees as conversation turns to the Guild. Still as invested as ever in its purpose. "That would be nice. Gods know I can't leave you to design much of anything alone," she tries to tease, bringing mere sparks to eyes that have held firestorms. His hand is suddenly there before her, open and offered in a gesture that shouldn't mean as much as it does. She places her own in his without any real hesitation, still trusting despite the times he has let her down. Letting him lead her wherever he'd like. Hotaru glances down at the griffin at her feet and uses the cute little critter as a distraction. "Care to introduce us properly?"

I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do this alone

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

Despite whether she thinks the whisper won’t be heard is likely because he hadn’t acquired the earrings enough to give her the idea he could. But he can hear her yes as its whispered among the winds – choosing to keep it quiet, letting her deal with whatever thoughts cross her face as he remembers her words – committing them and keeping them folded within the folds of his mind.

He lets it drop, focusing on her touch and then the subsequent offerings found to add to the lanterns while he explains about the boxing ring. His steel gaze slips to find her bi-toned ones, a small crooked smile blooming along his face at her comment. “Of course not.” He teases her lightly, a quiet chuckle to that. He had never truly been a great designer, though he did have a certain eye for color at the very least.

Still, her hand is small in his as he takes it – guiding her easily up the path toward the boxing ring. Her question of Haai has him smirking a small amount. “This is Haai. A little hellion.” He says, while the griffin flexes her wings and tilts her head up to look at Hotaru with wide green eyes, a yip in greeting. “She bit me the moment she hatched.” Another quiet chuckle as the boxing ring comes into view.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

Hotaru

She hadn't intended to hide it, her voice merely faltering beneath the weight of a grief that feels too raw. In time, as the seasons change, it will fade once more. But it will never leave. It is a weight she will carry until she meets her family in the afterlife. Sunjata's silence is a welcome balm, as he has always been. Ready to listen when she speaks, and allowing her silence and space when she does not. His attentiveness is often undervalued among his other - some less savory - traits.

His amusement helps to bolster her own, and her own soft laugh echoes beneath his. "How you've attracted so much attention without me to control your wardrobe either is beyond me," she shoots back teasingly, grateful for this solid, stable ground he represents. Familiar and welcoming. Hotaru isn't blind to his handsome features, but sometimes she can't help but feel competitive, wanting the same draw and allure that he so easily exerts over others.

Their connected hands chase away the minor chill of the colder winds that occupy the beach, their callouses - not quite aligned, borne of different pasts and skills - a comfortable texture. Hotaru laughs and coos at Haai's antics, positively charmed, and squeezes the man's hand as she smirks. "She sounds like my kind of girl then. You keep him in line honey," she directs the last part to the griffin, her grin feeling freer and more sincere. And part of her resents Sunjata for so easily turning the tides on her emotions, but she has always felt at ease with him, ever since the beginning. There's no point fighting it now.

I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do this alone

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

Her soft laugh is a balm for him as well, smiling softly as she teases him back, a roll of his eyes to that as he playfully scoffs. “I tend to stick to the dark colors. Keeps things simple.” He winks, settling in the comfort and companionship that had been the start of their relationship. But his hand still clasps onto hers, hers within his, and he hums as they approach the boxing ring as she comments to Haai.

A feeling he sends to the little griffin before a puff of flame leaves her maw with curling smoke. He rolls his eyes, looking back down and over at Hotaru, giving her hand a light squeeze. “She agrees. And she does.” He assures her with another soft chuckle, releasing her hand once they’ve entered the alcove of the boxing ring — moving to step within and set his items down along a table, making room and setting aside the extra supplies to make room for her own.

He pulls up a chair for her to sit should she wish to while he lays out the shells and things he had brought. “Where to begin…” He trails off, head tilting as he focuses on the items brought, before his steel lifts to Hotaru’s. “I think I might follow your lead on this one.” He offers with a softer smile toward her.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

Hotaru

"Tragic really," she bemoans playfully, unable to keep the dismayed expression in place for long as he leads her onward. As much as she'd love to dress him up someday, drape him in colors and patterns that would bring out his features, she can admit that she finds him handsome regardless. It's not the outfit that makes the man after all, no matter what she says to get business in her shop.

Haai's smoke and flames makes her laugh softly, Sunjata's warm hand squeezing around her own where it's safely clasped within his. The griffin reminds her even more of Alice now, but the ache is bittersweet instead. "She's lovely," Hotaru says instead, because she is. They are both lucky souls to have been bonded the way they have. Her hand feels cold when they part, but Hotaru is sufficiently distracted taking in the new building, eyes seeking out every detail that she wasn't here to witness being put into place. It's finely crafted, for all its rugged intent. Hopefully she can mimic such a beautiful meld in the lantern she intends to make.

Sitting on the offered chair, she removes the bag from her shoulder and the items within are placed separately on the table. Scrap metals, cloth wicks she had made herself, glass she had blown as the lantern centers. Though she hadn't intended to make more than one, she'd crafted a few to determine which she likes best in the moment. "You can use the glass if you like," she offers, keeping the orange-hued one for herself and gently sliding over the other two. "I can help bend the metal with my lightning, but we'll need some sort of binding agent to keep the shells and decorations on." Sap or tar would work, but she hadn't collected any while in the Grounds.

I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do this alone

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

A small smile is given toward Hotaru at the clothing comment, shaking his head lightly. “You’re welcome to help me out, but I doubt I need more attention than I already get.” He teases her back. If it wasn’t his height, it was something else, and honestly there were times where he just wanted to be ignored. As it stood right now, however, Torchline fit that.

Haai offers a small howl to follow up on Hotaru’s comment as Sunjata waves her off, bringing Hotaru within the confines of the boxing ring toward a table with items on it. When she sits and he takes up his own space, he glances toward the glass she pulls out from her own pack. As always, he’s surprised and internally pleased with the things she creates, watching as she slides the two over toward him. He leans against the table a small amount, searching between the two.

“You’re too kind to me, you know.” He hums to her, pushing away from the table to grab some of the binding that she’s requested. It’s a mix of tar that should do well for glue, and he sets it beside her as he picks up one of the glasses that seems almost frosted on the edges with white and greys, and it reminds him of the Launceleyn’s hyena and bat shift. So he chooses that one, sliding it back toward him, filtering through the shells to find ones that might stripe up the sides like the hyena had.

His gaze does flit up toward her, however. “What are you thinking about adding to yours?” Curious as can be, a softening gaze, giving her his full attention.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

Hotaru

Hotaru laughs softly, conceding the point. "That's probably true, maybe I'll save my fabric." His compelling nature is something she envies, but it's something she has also accepted. A bittersweet realization perhaps, to know that his eye will always be caught by others, and that others would be spellbound by his mere presence in return.

Perhaps she really does treat him too well, and she gives a soft huff of amusement as he points it out. "Maybe so. But you shouldn't question it or I'll take it back," the woman points out, tapping a finger against the glass she has slid his way playfully. Though his own offering is favorably accepted, reaching out to test the stickiness of the mixture with a light touch of her finger. It passes her muster, and so she reaches for the metal bits she had pulled out, summoning lightning to her hands and pressing them to the metal. It crackles and hums ominously, so she keeps it away from the man leaning against the table at her side.

As it heats up she begins to mold it, grabbing and shaping it like it's particularly stubborn bread dough until it begins to take shape into a cylindrical base. Using the tar mix she attaches the ends together for lack of any kind of welding option. The heated metal and the tar help it stick together, and she places it back onto the table to let it cool. Which is particularly good timing as Sunjata poses a question her way.

"Colors of blues, coppers, and browns," she replies softly. "Metals and crafted wires. Sea glass and polished bones." Sighing softly she gently touches one such bone, a soft ivory, the best she could mimic of the tusks he had once had. "He was a magnificent crafter, with a harsh exterior and yet the most genuine heart I've ever known. He had eyes like mine - blue and brown - and often worked with metal to create amazing machines. Everyone mistook him for a beastly sort because of his appearance..." taking in a breath she blinks away the sting of her eye. "But he was so gentle, and had so much love to give." Swallowing roughly she clears her throat and gives a weak smile towards Sunjata. "It's not easy to capture. But I'm going to try."

I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do this alone