I must confess

KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Oddly enough, Korbin relaxed even more when he lured the other man to laugh. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt to be able to do that. It had been a godawful long time since he'd laughed himself, and it was queer indeed that he'd remember how only after a near disaster.

The name of the goddess made him sit up a bit more. Interest sparked to life within the youths dark eyes, and he called for another drink - for the both of them. "Well now. That sounds like a tale worth hearing," he said with an easy smile. "Could I persuade you to tell me more about your Lady? The herald of Life, is about all I know of her."

If he could expect both kisses and power, it seemed like the perfect deity  to turn to in a time of need.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

He doesn’t expect Korbin to be so interested in his tales of Safrin or the things he’s done for her. But the other attuned sits up a bit more and Sunjata finally manages to take that seat he’s been hovering over, propping his legs up on the legs of the barstool as he focuses on Korbin and sets the glass to his side. “Sure.” He rumbles with a little half smirk, shifting a small amount to figure out just where to start.

“The first god I met was Frey, after I arrived here. And then, I got this strange idea to maybe go and try to attune. I wanted… To be something else than just accepted. So I went to the shrine I saw Frey at and asked.” He pauses as he considers his next words. “And she arrived, draped in starlight, told me that I could. Kissed me and reached inside me. Felt like… She was readjusting my soul in a sense.” He shakes his head to that with a snort, imagining Korbin knew what it had felt like in that regard to attune, as all had. “After that? She was the one I always asked for.” A bit of a softer smile crosses his face with that tidbit.

“And then, after the Temple had been destroyed in the Grounds and the shrine with it, I offered to rebuild it for her. And I did. She gave me my bat shift for that.” A slight purse of his lips to that before he looks down to the tattooed arm, from the same artist that had done the ink on Korbin’s own skin. “Last time I saw her I offered to try and become something for her. A dagger of sorts.” A raise of his brow as he looks to Korbin – wondering if it might make sense that he’d gone for his dagger first when they’d first met. “I got this for her. Still have to go back and get the other arm done.” A wink to that before he settles to take a long sip from his glass again.

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KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Sunjata wasn't all that much of a storyteller, if Korbin was any judge of such matters. The words were bit stilted and disjointed. But the fodder was there, the makings of a song if ever he'd heard one.

"I was still a young kid when I attuned, I don't really remember any of it," he confided. "Your way is far more memorable, I dare say. She sounds like a kind mistress... Call me a cynic though, is that really all there is? Having the favor of a divinity usually comes with a price, or I don't know my own stories."

His raised brow was an urging to go on, to tell him more. When the drinks were set down in front of him, Korbin pushed one over to Sunjata, whether he'd finished the current glass or not.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

He wasn’t a story teller, it wasn’t what he pride himself on. He was brawn and steel, still water and tsunamis. But the gist of it all is there as he explains, letting his gaze wander back toward Korbin as he takes a sip from the drink once more. A small smile crosses his face to that, a deep nod granted to the younger man. “It all comes with a price.” He shrugs, nodding with it.

The drink is passed to him and he downs the rest of his current glass, fiddling with the new one as he considers it. “The cost of Attuning was simple, I just needed to share her name around. The shrine, however, required a lot of ingredients gathered to make it.” One of which another reason he disliked Halo and his own inaccuracies of deciding what kind of rare creature to encounter. He takes a deep sip from the glass with that before he levels his gaze back on Korbin.

“This one... she gave me two daggers. I have to use one for justice and the other to get the blood of every race out there.” His gaze scans the crowd momentarily before he looks back to Korbin with a small smirk. “So thanks for helping a guy out.” A wink given to that.

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KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

A devout follower, it seemed. Korbin's relation to gods was tenuous at best, his allegiance sworn when he was too young to really understand. Not that he regretted anything - he was as much raven as man at this point - but he didn't have any personal devotion to any of them either. Didn't feel the need.

"I see." Korbin made a wry face, rubbing at his throat. The cut had been shallow and healed quickly without leaving a mark, but he could still feel the cold metal there at times. A reminder of his weakness. "Well, I hope you won't end up regretting that bargain," he replied. "Not that I'm any expert, but there's not one story about the gods that suggest dealing with them comes cheap. It looks to me like your toll is rising a bit more with every ask... Did you notice?"

He took a sip from his glass, watching Sunjata from the corner of his eye to see if there was a reaction.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

He pauses, taking a sip as Korbin mulls over the words that leave Sunjata’s throat. And he focuses a bit on the crowd before his gaze swings back to the raven as the other man speaks — something amused but edged in a hint at sharpness lingering within the toothy smirk he gives back. “There’s always going to be some hint of regret.” He shrugs his shoulders to that.

“But as for my price to pay for speaking with her, I’m sure can’t be that terrible.” He shrugs, though it’s a blatant lie, it’s seen in the curl of his lip, in the things that he’s seen Safrin do to Ronin that he’s actively lined himself up for… But regardless, he shifts a small amount on the seat, focusing his attention on Korbin. “It’s not like I can get out of paying for it, anyway.” He only hopes there’s some amount of kindness within whatever trials his goddess puts him through.

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KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

"Hmm, no, perhaps not. Don't know that running to another god will really make matters better," he agreed. It was the only way he could think of, to escape a deity. Even death would only be seeking refuge with another, so. Common sense suggested it would be wise to just stay clear of them altogether. Yet even so, Korbin felt that he was itching to give the praying a new shot.

"Maybe I'll pay the shrine a visit when I'm back in Halo," he mused aloud. "See if she will listen to the prayers of a wretch like me." Though he didn't mean to, there was a grimness to the way he spoke of himself that definitely hadn't been there last time they met.

Korbin raised the glass to his lips, took a slow sip. Tried to stay clear of the dark thoughts that threatened to claim him, but it was difficult, even in a place like this.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

“Oh, absolutely not.” Sunjata agrees a bit wryly, a smirk crossing his lips before it fades and he sighs lightly. “Probably would make things worse, I’d imagine.” A shrug of his shoulders as he looks back to Korbin and scans the young man’s face. “I pledged myself entirely to her when I Attuned. I’m hers.” And one thing Sunjata does his best to avoid, is breaking his own promises and pledges.

He lifts the glass and takes a deep sip from it, listening while the raven mentions visiting a shrine upon his return to Halo. A shrug of his shoulder is granted to that. “You can pray to her whenever. I usually only go when I want to personally ask her something and hope she appears.” A shrug to that – before he considers it. “I do a lot of praying at night to the stars, though, could start there? I’m sure she’d hear it.” At least, it seemed that way. But if he wanted to talk to the gods, Sunjata can’t imagine a better one to go with.

He hums for a moment, shifting in the seat before peering outside briefly. “It’s stuffy in here, wanna finish the drinks and we can head outside?” A raise of his brow to that – already the slight blush of the alcohol appearing on the back of his neck, the heat of Torchline paired with his alcohol intake causing a thin sheen of sweat to cover his bronze hued skin.

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KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

It wasn't a sentiment Korbin shared. He didn't know who had Attuned him. He could barely remember the event, having been so young when it happened, and none of his prayers had been answered since. It felt like an arbitrary thing... that his sister would have magic and he not, when it could just as easily have been the other way around.

"Sounds like as good a plan as any," he replied. "At least at night no one will be there to laugh if I get cursed." He raised his glas in a bit of a toast. "To Safrin, may she hear our prayers."

Korbin was a big man - not as big as Sunjata perhaps but not far from - sand his tolerance was fairly high. He felt the buzz of the alcohol inside, warming him to uncomfortable levels. The Arbiter's suggestion made him consider - did he really care to go anywhere with this person? - but the promise of a breeze won out over his reticence.

"Alright," he conceded, and threw back the rest of his drink. Leaving his payment on the counter, he stood and gathered up his belongings, then motioned for Sunjata to lead the way outside. Be would follow.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

A snort slips from him, inclining his head a small amount toward Korbin before he finishes his drink and sets the glass back on the counter after the toast. “There is that.” He offers, flashing Korbin a small grin. He’d never been cursed personally, at least not yet. Either Safrin didn’t show or she did and that was that. Never something personal or invasive to his person – he wonders if he’s favored enough by Safrin yet to avoid any of those.

Best to probably find out when he’s done with his quest, huh?

Surprisingly, Korbin takes him up on the offer, and Sunjata pushes up from the seat – paying for his own drink with a few trade items before ensuring he’s got all the things he has on his person still on his person, before leading the way outside. The crowd does give him a fair amount of berth, perhaps happier once he’s gone to continue the shenanigans, but with the welcome air outside he inhales deeply and reaches into his pocket for a cigarette to light before his attention returns to Korbin. “So how long are you planning on being in Torchline for?”

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KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

The outside air was only marginally cooler, but at least there was a breeze. Breathing deeply, his senses recoiled from the plethora of unfamiliar scents that came drifting - salt sea, sand, vegetation and the stench of humans crowded together in a warm place - and had to restrain himself from grimacing.

"Not long. Thought I'd try and find a friend of mine who's here on trade business... but so far I've had no luck. Maybe he's gone home already." He shrugged. Korbin had come for the Festival, because Weaver wanted him to. He'd stayed for a bit to try and give the place a chance, but already he missed home - the cold wind, the clean smell of ice and snow - and felt the uncomfortable itch of shirking his duties.

Sweating even out here, he finally gave in to the discomfort. Dumping his belongings by the feet he hauled off the shirt - long sleeved, thin but made of wool, and way too warm for the climate - and threw it down by the rest. The young man's torso was lean and muscled, though the skin was stark white, of course, never exposed to any kind of sunlight - Halo climate being what it was - and only hands and face had any trace of tanning. There was color on his back though, blue-green hues and shimmering black; vibrant and life-like the raven tattoo spread its wings over both shoulders, its feathers grazing his neck and draping down over the upper arms a ways. When he moved, it looked ready to fly off his skin.

"So, this is your home, then? It's just as soft as I imagined it," he remarked. Throwing a sly glance at the other, to see if he would rise to the bait. (He really just didn't know what else to talk about.)

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

His gaze drifts toward the sky almost immediately, searching for the stars as he typically did, before he chews on his cheek, listening to Korbin when he speaks. “Which friend? Maybe I know of him.” He asks, raising a brow toward the younger man – wondering what kind of friend Korbin sought. Not like it mattered to him much in the end, really, considering the fact that Sunjata and Korbin were mostly acquaintances. Sunjata’s true friendship lied with Weaver and the secrets of their pasts between them.

Still, his gaze flickers away when Korbin removes his shirt, only to return briefly to notice the expanse of tattoo that reminds him much of his own. He focuses on the question poised instead, a hum of a laugh leaving his throat to that. “Yeah, it is home.” He offers, taking a few steps out and closer to the beach, to hear the waves before he crouches and one of the stray cats rolls up like usual. He offers it a few scratches behind the ears. “I’m the Arbiter here, so. Part of the new government.” A shrug of his own tattooed shoulders to that, before he looks over one of them – the compass twisting with his movement.

“When’d you get that done?” He asks, gesturing to the raven on the other man’s back, drawing on the cigarette and exhaling a plume of smoke into the dark night, moving to stand and watching the wind carry the curls of smoke away as the cat curls around his legs.

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KORBIN

And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,

Korbin rather doubted it, but answered anyway. "Ezekiel Olsen. He's my age. Has an older brother, Noah. Both from Halo, of course." Like he would have friends anywhere else.

Content to keep away from the water, Korbin remained where he was. Didn't feel like moving his things again. Nor was he inclined to stick to Sunjata like some other tick. "I can't tell if you're bragging or apologizing, when you say it like that," he said, half teasing.

Whatever tendency there had been to smile fell away quickly when the man asked about his tattoo. Korbin raised a long-fingered hand to his neck, self-consciously rubbing over the inked skin. He turned his eyes away, gazed out over the dusky beach.

"A few years ago," he replied, a bit quiet. "After my brother died."

He didn't know if that meant anything to the Arbiter. Did not really care. This was deeply personal.

Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

SuNjATA

the flood

“Hmm.” Sunjata rumbles, gaze flickering toward the water once more and the way the stars reflect in the surface of the waves before he realizes the name doesn’t ring a bell and his shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug. “Wish I could help.” A slightly toothy and fanged grin is sent back toward Korbin. “Doesn’t ring a bell, though.” He offers before he’s standing again, still near the water.

“Bit of both.” He offers Korbin with a hum of a laugh before he shakes his head and the amusement falters as soon as he asks the question as to when Korbin had gotten the tattoo. He’s quiet for a moment, taking another drag before pausing lightly and focusing on Korbin despite the other man’s gaze being away from his own.

He clears his throat briefly. “Erebor, right?” Because he knew, Weaver had told him. And he pauses again to ensure that he’s right. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He adds a bit quieter, letting his gaze linger on Korbin’s figure, nothing but sincerity in his gaze and voice. “I got my compass tattoos for my girl after she died.” He offers – though it’s not the same. Still, it’s some sort of understanding that crosses his face, the need for a reminder.

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