Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

Jigano hadn't read the notice, but word of mouth from it had reached the Provost in his Hall and drawn him back to Torchline to pay his respects to the last of the Valairs. The news had left him shaken, striking deep into the heart of a man who had been trying so hard to let those he cared for stretch their own wings and fly free...

And look where that led?

He knew it was only bitterness speaking, railing against the loss of someone he had cared for. Denial. Anger. She had been so sure of her strength, and had grown so confident and graceful, far from the timid mouse he had first met in the LongNight dark.

There wasn't even a body to hold a service for.

His fingers shook as he lit the candle at the tower's top, head bowed as he tried to will away what had been said. Not gone. Not dead she could still come back from that last, disastrous trip. She had controlled water, had grown wings, had befriended a will-o-wisp.

Sometimes the gods call those they love most back to them soonest, it was said.

He could believe that, some days. But still he lit the candle to guide her home and watched it burn down before he trudged down the lighthouse steps and stepped into the evening air, so much wetter and warmer here on the coast than in the Hollowed Grounds. His cheeks were dry, but it was humid enough that it felt as though the air wept for him, and out in the distance a storm rolled over the water, lightning flashing down to the sea. For a moment he leaned against the stones, staring out over the water as the light faded hoping to see...

Someone that wouldn't come.

Not ever again.

don't you know i'm no good for you?

Already there’s too much on his mind, as there is bound to be. Between the volcano eruption, the news of Maea, the spirals he’s been getting into – becoming a part of this government when he’d mostly sworn them off for good. Things were changing, he couldn’t keep up, and he felt hollow inside and out for it. In fact, the only thing that was his guiding him was likely the daggers at his side, Safrin designed and spiraled – as well as the tattoo that blacks out his left arm from beneath the feather tattoos to his wrist in whirls of waves speckled with galaxies. The rest of him? A mess, exhaustion causing bags beneath his eyes and a few Ascended bites that pepper along bronze skin, a heavy almost sullen air about him wherever he went.

So of course, it’s to Safrin’s lighthouse he goes, the place where he’d found Maea after their first somewhat small argument – when Haai had been insistent on greeting the girl despite the awkwardness it could bring.

He doesn’t expect to see too many people around anymore, not with the ash that still flutters in the wind and coats the ground, mixing and melding into chalky designs of foot traffic. His gaze is immediately drawn out over the coast to the lightning that strikes out in the distance, something shivering in his spine at the recollection of his last meeting with Safrin, and then Jigano’s silhouette distracts him.  Hey. He says simply through the attuned bond, sound full of exhaustion and a tinge of sorrow.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

He had not been expecting company, though it might be more fair to say that he'd had no expectations at all, mind too distracted by his quiet grief to consider the activities of others. The presence of someone that he knew, and more, someone that knew Maea, had meant so much to her and hurt her so deeply, twisted and discarded her, brought a momentary flex of claws to slender fingers.

Ah, but Jigano could hardly throw stones in that particular house, could he?

The claws flickered away, a mere ghost of possibility in the shadows, and he pushed away from the lighthouse that he had been holding up to look the walking disaster over, seeing the truth of his exhaustion and the scattering of Ascended bites on his skin.

For a moment there was silence, the urge to lash out almost overpowering, to strike with sharp tongue even more than sharpened claws, but in the end she had still loved this sinking derelict, and for that alone Jigano drew in a steadying breath and gave a short, sharp nod. "Evening."

don't you know i'm no good for you?

He doesn’t encroach on Jigano’s space as he slips near the edge, somewhere by the lighthouse as he offers a quiet solemn hello to the bard. He doesn’t know where they stand, what Maea might have said to the man, what of it even matters anymore now that she’s gone. But he does hear the clipped, short response, choosing to put little stock in it as he approaches the edge near a rock he usually chose to sit on out here — pulling those weapons from Safrin out and a sharpening tool to keep them at their best.

There’s a few heartbeats of a pause as he begins, unsure what else to add. But at the end of the day, this is where he lives now, this shrine dedicated to his goddess… He doesn’t plan on leaving due to the discomfort and tension in the air between them.

“Good work with the volcano.” He offers instead, because without it he’s sure Haulani would have perished while he and Nate were too busy trying to ferry people out and away.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

He watched Sunjata from the corner of his eyes, finally turning his head to look at him as the man settled down as if to stay awhile and pulling blades that shone silver in the muddy evening light. Starry and gleaming with lethal intent it was easy to see in whose honor they had been fashioned. Or perhaps who they had been fashioned by, and the bard's jaw tightened for a moment before he looked away again.

The praise earned a faint grunt of acknowledgment, and in that moment he couldn't help but wonder if this was how Deimos felt. A dark amusement bubbled up momentarily, like something from the depths of a peat bog, but he shook it off and forced a breath and a return of the control and mask he had been needing to don less and less as the seasons went by.

"You as well, with getting the people to safety."

Maea's ghost hung between them, a chill wind off the ocean from the distant storm, but he wasn't ready to face her yet. "Why did you do it? Challenge for control of the region?" The question was abrupt but not hostile, genuine curiosity in the undertones of the words, for Jigano could never quell that part of him for long, and he had been worrying at why either man felt fit to lead since the day of the vote.

don't you know i'm no good for you?

A few moments of silence and a nod granted back toward Jigano as he begins to sharpen one of the blades. It had been his goal in the end, knowing he wasn’t strong enough to try and save the city – nor did he have any abilities like Jigano did with magic and the like. People were the one thing he could help.

Just because people thought him to be heartless didn’t mean that he was.

But there’s tension between them and it doesn’t take much for Sunjata to figure out why, what kind of roads might lead to the awkwardness that’s tangible in the air. So when he speaks next, there’s a pause of surprise as Sunjata continues to sharpen the blade, stone pausing in its swipe because it’s not the question he’s expecting. But still a fair one, he supposes.

“I have experience.” He offers with a slight shrug. “Besides, couldn’t let Remi try and run for it and win by default.” A slight smirk to that, some hidden pang of amusement before it fades and he lifts the blade to inspect it before shadowed storms rise to meet Jigano. “Doesn’t matter that I won or didn’t, I don’t really care about the outcome.”

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

The answer was lacking in so many ways, Jigano's frown deepening once more as Sunjata met his eyes. "You don't think it's strange?" he said softly. "This contest between Outlanders - not a single Natural of Torchline even considered for the post?" He shook his head, forcing the calm to remain as he hid his desire to strangle the Flood behind decades of discipline and control. "Why bother running if you didn't care? What would you have done if you had won it?" Handed it right back over to Remi anyways? Gods least fortunate it made the whole thing looked rigged and Jigano fought back a growl of frustration.

He was hardly free from his own mistakes, but damn, Sunjata made it hard to remember the strides he'd made. Forcing slow breaths he bent down to pick up a stone, tossing it thoughtfully in his hand one, two, three times before he drew back his arm and let it fly out past the edge of the headland and arc down to the ocean beyond.

Adam. Maea. Now this farce. What was the world coming to? Exploding volcanoes and lands of ever-winter, wars of gods and far too many monsters walking abroad... The Fae and the Merfolk had the right idea, sometimes. Hunker down and wait it out and hope the humans killed themselves off before they broke the world again.

Even if he was a human, too, now. Damn the Voice anyways, whlie he was at it.

don't you know i'm no good for you?

“Strange?” He rumbles both with some consideration and hidden amusement at the prospect. “Nobody else offered. Sure, some Naturals could have stood up and asked, but they didn’t.” At least, in Sunjata’s mind it seems simple enough. But of course, Jigano has to ask yet another question, what he would have done if he had. Steel gaze drifts out toward the water again. “I care about Torchline. I meant what I said in the speech that I’d still be here, doing what I can Jigano. The entire time I’ve been here, this is all I wanted.” A hand extends to the ocean that stretches out before them.

But his gaze, of course, drifts back to Jigano. “I would’ve made it better. Less dangerous for everyone involved. Which, might I add, I’m still doing.” He shrugs. A council involving him, just focused in exactly what he planned on doing regardless. An easy agreement between the Alchemist and him.

He watches the rock sail over, jaw clenching slightly as he lowers his gaze again to the daggers to continue sharpening the one he’s focusing on. “I think Maea might have appreciated the idea of it. Lusea, too, for what it’s worth.”

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

"They're a bit busy cleaning up and rebuilding," he pointed out, a touch of dryness finally pushing past some of the flat neutrality of his tone. But he made no effort to follow up on the frustration for in the end Sunjata had as much of a point as the bard did. Perhaps, given time to repair and recover from the near-catastrophe someone would have emerged, but they wouldn't have had the publicity the Outlander group had gained with their efforts. Efforts that had been made in the heat of the moment, without thought of reward... or at least, so the bard could claim for himself.

Remi was a stranger now, and Sunjata was as fecklessly determined to drown himself in pain and pleasure and booze as Loren could be. He had no idea who the Flood was these days, or what he would be a week from now.

Sunjata's gesture spoke volumes; caring not about the land but about the sea, the freedom it represented, and Jigano met the Flood's eyes coolly at his protestations that he would make it better. "And Safrin approves of such... selflessness?" he asked, wry and humorless as he glanced down at the blades. "Such arrogant heroics from an Outlander?" Ah, but the gods of Caido were not known for being fair. Neither neutral nor balanced, no scales or watchers - except, perhaps, that mysterious god above all.

Maea's name was like a gut-punch and Jigano had to clench his jaw against the words that threatened to snap out. He swallowed them back, one by one, locking them deep until he could pick and choose amongst them, taking care as he did. "Maea would have appreciated anything that let her be with you. But you were too busy jerking her around with Lusea's ghost to let her in or let her go," he gritted out, remembering the last conversation he'd had with the white-winged girl and how desperately she had drowned her own desires for just a hint of Sunjata's approval

don't you know i'm no good for you?

Ah, as was everyone else at the end of the day. Haulani still covered in ash, stretching out far enough to cover everything here too. It had been a slog to get down to the bar to try and save what little bits he could on the inside, replacing and helping clean up where he could. But he had done it, had been there through it, hadn’t asked for a reward when he’d tried to help the people get to safety.

But he glances toward the bard in time to watch him glance down toward the blades, a raise of his brow in response to the accusations. “I asked Safrin what I could do for her. This is it. It has nothing to do with what I do or don’t do in Torchline.” He says easily enough, tone a bit flat, the proof standing before him. “Amalia’s her shield, Ronin is her star. I suppose she plans on making me her dagger.” Steel gaze slipping along Jigano before it returns to the blade within his hand.

Of course, he should have expected the sharp retort from Jigano, and yet a bit more frustration pangs through him. He doesn’t look back at Jigano, focusing entirely on the ocean and storms around them, on the blade beneath his fingers. “She was with me, Jigano. We came to an agreement before she went off on the hunt.” Finally, steel drifts to meet the bard once more. “But I will not have you try to act like I was nothing but honest with her.” Feathers speckle along his shoulders, a true show of the rampaging emotions within him. “If it makes you feel any better, Delphia won’t tell me what all the rest of you got on that nice long notice board post until I get over Lusea, so, there's that.” No closure, no nothing aside from a letter left right before the hunt, one he keeps in the home not far from here - the only one he hasn't burned.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

Jigano only raised a sardonic brow at the Flood's protestations, wondering what a goddess of life needed with a 'dagger.' He regretted bringing the star-crossed goddess up, however, and chose to let the other man's words lie rather then continue speaking of the god with whom he held such a difficult relationship.

He wasn't ready to hear Maea's name from Sunjata's lips, not when his last conversation with her had been full of such pain and longing caused by the very man who now lingered nearby and heightened his grief. "The same agreement you came to with Phoebe?" he growled, glancing over to see the remnants of fang marks still fading on the bartender's skin. "I haven't seen the notice board post, either. Others brought word of it to me." He flexed his fingers consideringly and another rock appeared in his hand to be thrown over the bluff. "And what good was that agreement, when you still placed Lusea between you like a shield? As you continue to do even after Maea..." He didn't say the word, the loss still too fresh.

don't you know i'm no good for you?

A scoff of a laugh leaves Sunjata’s throat, a shake of his head at the question — the implication — finding it so incredibly impossible to compare the two. “No. Do you know why?” He asks, steel gaze narrowing on Jigano. “Because I loved Maea. And I didn’t want to hurt her by getting involved in things that could take me away as quickly as she was taken from us.” His lip curls briefly, a flare of navy feathers along his shoulders before he tears his gaze away from Jigano.

As for the rest? He listens, muscles feathering in his jaw as he goes to shake his head. “Mine wasn’t on it. I won’t know until Delphia finds me fit to know.” It’s grit out, somewhat sharply. “So while the rest of you all get your peace, I don’t. And I have to deal with it, get over two ghosts without closure.” Because while he'd heard from Lusea, they’d never found a body. Not like he searched for it, but the fact remains. “Too many lanterns hung on bare walls. Too many ghosts to haunt the empty home. Too much guilt to make room for much else.” But to change that seemed impossible, difficult, unsure of where to start and where to go from there when it felt guilty to even try to imagine it.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

Jigano truly had not expected Sunjata to say the words aloud after how Maea had described their relationship's status in the Wildwood. Rocky. The Flood wanting more and Maea trying desperately to give it, but breaking herself trying to reach accommodation with a man who barely bent. A one-sided affair where Sunjata took what the pale woman gave so freely but gave little back in return.

He had been angry on her behalf then. He wanted to be angrier now, now that it was too late and Sunjata could say what he pleased - for who could say differently how their last meeting had gone?

But he found his bitter tongue silenced by the simple declaration, grief and sincerity balanced and bleeding in Sunjata's eyes. He drew a breath as if to snipe back at the Flood, but it caught in his throat as he was reminded that however low his opinion of the man was at the moment, Sunjata was mourning, too.

Eyes returned to the storm, he listened taut-jawed and laconic. "Peace? What peace?" It was far too early to speak of such a thing when the edges were so raw and the pain so fresh.

don't you know i'm no good for you?

He expects more, almost craves more. Some sort of budding argument, sure that Jigano has a very low opinion of him regardless of anything he says. He really doesn’t care what the bard thinks, doesn’t care that he feels Sunjata had wronged Maea… Not when he’d cared so much, gotten scared, did what he usually does.

His gaze finds the coast as well, muscles clenching and feathering along the lines of his jaw, the lines of his face. The comment of peace nearly has a scoff leaving Sunjata, unsure where to even begin with a notion like that. “Last departing words, at least.” He rumbles unhelpfully, slipping the dagger away for the other to sharpen and try and focus on. “But no, there’s no such thing. I’ve learned that now.” And he had, in those dark crevices of his mind and heart.

Hope was a rare thing found anymore.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA