I must confess

KORBIN

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

Korbin nodded, not surprised. "Didn't think you would," he replied calmly. Torchline was big, and there were plenty of enterprising people from Halo who came to trade. No one could possibly know them all.

There could have been banter, a quiet conversation, but the man had to go and ask personal questions. And Korbin wasn't so drunk that he didn't mind, hadn't relaxed enough to just let the memories go, once they'd been dragged up.

When his brother's name appeared on the lips of this stranger, his eyes snapped back to Sunjata. Raven-black, wolf-wild, it was a gaze like an open wound, raging against the exposure to the indifferent stars. "How..!?" But he caught himself, restrained the urge to snap and snarl. "She told you." Not a question.

How much did Weaver really trust this guy, for her to talk about that? She barely ever mentioned it even to him. Not that she needed to, they both carried the events like scars. Hers visible, physical... his own were mental. Soul scars. More difficult to explain.

Korbin fumed over having his own history offered up to others like this. Felt betrayed - she had said she wouldn't give away his secrets - and barely heard what Sunjata said about dead lovers. Didn't care, didn't feel generous enough to offer sympathy for someone else at the moment.

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

SuNjATA

the flood

He inclines his head a small amount, shrugging. Perhaps one day he might – but today isn’t that day, and he lets the subject drop easily enough in favor for the more… Sorrowful conversation that takes place. And surely, he should have suspected Korbin’s frustration with Weaver announcing that specific bit of his past to him, and yet… And yet Sunjata can’t help but to turn and face Korbin a bit more fully, arms folding across his chest, understanding glimmering in his gaze.

“She did.” Sunjata agrees quietly. “And likewise, I told her quite a lot about me that not a lot of others know.” He offers. Not quite everything – because there were only a couple of people that knew every detail of his life. And two of them were dead. Still, he can’t help the frown from crossing his face, unsure what else to say to the rage that’s palpable from Korbin.

Though they had both been drunk at that time – delving too far into their pasts, delving too far into what made them into what they were. And dare he say bonding? He doubts Korbin would like that answer much at all, and he keep sit locked behind his teeth, steel gaze lingering on Korbin before drifting back over toward the water.

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KORBIN

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

If he was only angry, it would have been easier. But there was so much more beneath the rage. Hurt, sure, and an intense dislike of being talked about when he wasn't there - because inevitably he would be part of Weaver's story, just as much as she was part of his - but most of all it was just pain. Grief, raw and ragged, that he couldn't let go of. That didn't seem to ease no matter how many years passed.

And because he was at least drunk enough to be reckless, Korbin sent all of it down the bond. Hurled all of those jagged emotions at Sunjata like so much broken glass. He thought he knew anything, because Weaver told him the facts?

Fine. Then let him know what it felt like too. To lose family time and again. To love only to have it ripped away. The horror and grief of seeing his brothers mangled body, to sit watch over a dying sister, to somehow drag up the resolve necessary to burn the closest thing to a father he actually remembered clearly. Not knowing if he would have to do it again a few days later.

He didn't say anything. Didn't really have to; the bond laid it all bare.

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

SuNjATA

the flood

It’s like a floodgate left open, and while Sunjata had kept his moderately together, he finds Korbin’s feelings sent over like barbs, like daggers into the wounds that Sunjata’s kept so tightly closed. They burrow in, and Sunjata drags from the cigarette a bit more fiercely, dropping it to stamp it out as soon as the pain begins to set in, and he shoves back at it – eyes hard on Korbin the entire time, sending back just as much of his own grief.

Lovers lost and died thrice over, of sitting there and trying so desperately to try and save a life only to have it ended before him, for him to hold onto the body while she passed. For him to not get closure on so many of them, for him to be silenced and not heard, leashed like a dog and forced and trained to comply only to fight back and leave with nothing. He adds on the chilling stillness and pain of watching friends and family die, of his memory and shock of what it was like when his mother had been murdered before him, of when his friends and guildmates had been murdered before him in a frozen tomb in Korbin's home. He pushes back again and again.

He pushes back even further, with the hopelessness, the spirals he’s endured of coming this close to the brink of collapse – and the few times he had only been a few seconds away, before he withdraws. “You don't get to play a victim at it with me, Korbin. I know what it's like.” He snaps, grinding his teeth tightly and looking back out into the water.

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KORBIN

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

He has never gone into water deeper than a hip bath as a small child. Never swam, been submerged, near drowning. But if he ever pictured drowning, being swept away by a raging flood... this might be the closest he got. And it was nothing. Nothing at all compared to what struck back at him.

It choked him. To feel his own pain multiplied by the difference in years between them and hurled back, layers upon layers of it. There was much he didn't understand the cause of, because he didn't know this man's history. Didn't know what prompted it all.

There was no need. Circumstances didn't matter. It was all about the soul here. Laid bare by the bond... and what a dreadful bond it was.

It was quite a bit more than he could really bear. Korbin staggered back, all but collapsed down to the ground like had been dealt a physical blow, and buried his face in his hands. Found that his hands were shaking uncontrollably, his whole body shuddering with barely suppressed sobs.

Gods, how could the man still stand upright? Everything just kept rebounding within him, and Korbin didn't know how to make it stop, how to separate what was his and what belonged to Sunjata...

He really was drowning in it. Unable to respond.

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

SuNjATA

the flood

One thing Sunjata isn’t particularly fond of, is the emotional pull and push you get with the Attuned bond. It’s great at times, for emphasizing a point, a feeling that you can’t otherwise express using words. It’s great for silent conversations around other non-attuneds. But when used like this, it becomes weaponized, and Sunjata isn’t here to play games. So when he pushes back, it’s a force to be reckoned with, a force that Korbin wouldn’t be able to understand in the age gap that lay between them, a force that despite it all he’s still here.

Despite it all, at least Korbin could say he had a home that he enjoyed, that he grew up in, that he loved and lost in. Sunjata didn’t have that, and where he’d tried to make it into one, it had failed.

As soon as Korbin staggers back, Sunjata withdraws his feelings, closing them off behind a wall of steel, holding them in and close again and wishing he were perhaps a bit more drunk. But he can’t help but to glance over, despite the hardened gleam in his gaze, the sharp focus on the way Korbin holds his face. He’s been there. He was there not long ago, and Nate had held him when he’d raged and drowned himself.

Quietly, he approaches and crouches before Korbin, keeping enough distance away as he rests his tattooed arm on his leg and the other runs a hand through his hair. “It sucks, for lack of a better word. Trust me, I know. But trust me also when I say that it’s not so bad to let people in.” He offers, voice still a bit more rough with the emotions warring in his chest. “I tried to push people away because I thought it would protect them. But it didn’t save them. So enjoy the time you get while you’re here.” Here for a good time, not a long time, after all when it came to Caido.

As if to prove the point, he lifts the steel and the swirling emotions, sending the good things that had happened lately. The happiness that could be there, the way the despair had broken first when Maea had told him she wasn’t going anywhere. The second when Nate had done the same, but pushed him around into it. The fact that he was heard and appreciated, and that there wasn’t anything he could do to change it. That he had to accept it. He sends the feeling of Weaver pushing him around and getting under his skin like a sister would, he send the feeling of letting Melita in and helping to chase away her shadows and haunted past. He sends the feeling of the true happiness he has right now with Nate as a tether, somewhere back home. He sends the good parts too, because regardless if Korbin wants to hear it or not, there’s always light in the dark. Sometimes it just took longer for your eyes to adjust to it. And gods knew it took his a long while.

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KORBIN

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

The boy flinched when Sunjata approached. Fully expected a fist to come flying in addition to the mental blast. He was in no shape to guard against it, no more than he could shield from the torrent of turbulent emotion. But there came no blow. Just words, that came drifting towards him from very far away. He heard them, but couldn't think clearly enough to even consider them, let alone accept the message.

The onslaught of darkness ceased, but the echo of it kept ringing inside him, like the reverberations of a bell struck too hard. Near the breaking point.

Then came everything else. Warmth, love, hope, comfort, and those too struck the chords within him. Because really, Korbin had all of that too. It was just... buried, beneath the rest. Half forgotten, except for the times when he remembered to actually look at his sister.

He tried to ward himself against it. All of it. But he couldn't escape it, had nowhere to run to hide from this kind of thing... And what little resolve he maintained to keep himself together cracked. Broke open, was washed away.

A sob tore from the boy, a sound that seemed to come from someplace deep within. Soon followed by another, until he sat there in the sand crying like the kid he was supposed to be.

Gods... when had he cried last? Truly shed tears like this?

He didn't even remember.

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

SuNjATA

the flood

He doesn’t expect Korbin to flinch when he approaches, but he sighs quietly when he notices it – crouching down and keeping to himself, not frustrated per say with the kid, but simply… A means of understanding, of learning, of figuring out that things can get better and that Korbin had to let them. And that was the hardest part, wasn’t it? Letting people in?

Hoping they don’t leave? Breaking when they do?

Rebuilding when someone else comes along and soon enough you end up looking like a cracked vase, glued together too many times to hold water, and yet you still can – because those around you that you keep close fill in the cracks for you, become that bigger asshole, become that better person to give you a piece of them to stuff the holes with so you can stop losing everything you have left.

When Korbin sobs, Sunjata shifts from a crouch to sitting in the sand, giving him space and looking across the water, but sending little pinpointed messages of a brotherly comfort over. It’s better than a hug, and despite the amount of touchiness that Nate had gotten him to open to, Korbin was still a stranger. He might have shared cigarettes and loose hugs with his sister, but it wasn’t Korbin, and that made all the difference.

So he stays quiet, letting Korbin take as long as he wanted, pulling out another cigarette to light and draw from, to drown out his own warring feelings inside, and sits beside the boy in the sand.

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KORBIN

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

How did you remember what 'whole' felt like, when you'd started breaking before the self had even fully formed? What defined you other than pain and grief, when they were companions that had always been there? Oh, he might be well off in some ways, but just because someone else had it worse, it didn't invalidate his own feelings. He still felt what he felt, and right now everything was fucking hurting.

Funny thing was, he couldn't quite remember how this had begun. Why was he breaking apart on a beach in Torchline? Who was this guy that sat quietly beside him, offering a gut punch and a support Korbin had stopped expecting from anyone years ago? What had he been raging about, and why did the steady comfort streaming down that hateful bond touch him so deeply?

Weaver was amazing, and he loved her to insanity, but there was something different about this. Maybe it was because they were Attuned, and could speak without words. Maybe it was just because Sunjata was a guy, and Korbin really needed that brother he had lost.

Maybe it was just the right place and time, and Sunjata the unfortunate soul who got the honor of dealing with him.

It really did not matter. Korbin kept sobbing, until no more tears would come and he was left feeling raw. Hollow and empty, like he'd been wrung dry. But... there was something within him that eased, with it all. Like some dreadful burden had been lifted, ever so slightly.

He drew a deep, shuddering breath. Shifted, and wiped at his face.

"I'm... I'm sorry." His voice was as raw as his insides. But the words were heartfelt, and genuine. There was an echo of regret in the bond... for lashing out like that.

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

SuNjATA

the flood

By the time Korbin gets around to speaking, Sunjata’s near the end of the cigarette he’s lit – letting the salty wind run through the waves of his hair, covering his exposed skin like a quiet kiss of cool against the heat of the alcohol. He doesn’t look to the young man beside him, he simply flicks the ash from the cigarette and braces his elbows on his knees, drawing them up in a bit more casual of a stance, far more comfortable this way.

“Don’t be.” He rumbles, sending a soft sensation down the bond toward Korbin – that pulse of understanding and nonchalance, not caring if the boy had broken. “You should’ve seen me after the volcano erupted.” There’s a hint of a smile that crosses his face as he looks back to Korbin and raises his brow. But he takes one last drag from the cigarette before putting it out and leaning back on his arms, braced behind him and stretching his legs out.

He inhales deeply and exhales slowly before his head tilts back toward Korbin. “Sometimes you just have to relieve the pressure. Nothing wrong with that.” And there wasn’t, despite how much his father had engrained into his head that there was a problem with being weak and showing weaknesses. Those that he’d put into his life for however long they’d stayed made him sure that it wasn’t something to be ashamed of, something to be afraid of, even despite how he’d consistently tried to swallow it down.

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KORBIN

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

Usually, he loathed those casual touches of emotion. They'd made him want to punch Loren several times, made him shudder in revulsion at the very touch of a thought to his mind. It had been there when he first met Sunjata too. A strong rejection of anything remotely similar to closeness.

But he was too rattled to even care about it now. Had no option but to accept the sense of understanding, of ease, when it wrapped around and soothed his splintered emotions. Korbin resigned himself to it, and somehow the acceptance made everything feel a bit better. Just a little bit, but... still better.

He had a vague recollection of hearing rumors about a volcano erupting... but hadn't paid any attention to it. Wasn't in Halo, so it didn't seem to matter.

"That bad?" It was hard to say if he meant the eruption or Sunjata's breakdown. Possibly it was both.

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

SuNjATA

the flood

“Yeah.” He rumbles, beginning to form the thoughts in his head. “It all sort of just… Reached a point.” Shoulders rising and falling as he looks out to the water again, blinking a few times to rid his steel gaze of the glaze to them, running a hand through his hair. “And then it bubbled over when I got back home.” He wonders how much detail Korbin wants, if since they’d shared this moment together if Sunjata could offer him something more, a trust sort of combination.

So he inhales deeply, considering it, eyeing and watching Korbin from his peripheral vision as he focuses on where to even start.

“I have a remarkable ability of fucking things up. And I pushed someone I cared deeply for, away, like I usually do.” A rise and fall of his shoulders as he inhales deeply. “And then she ended up dying in a hunt out here. I didn’t even know she was coming here until after – didn’t find out until a few weeks later. And when I did, it was on the Notice Board in the Grounds. I get back here, trying to sort of deal with it, and the fucking volcano erupts.” He sighs, leaning back on his hands now to look up to the sky.

“And of course, the other one I care about was there as well. We ended up helping to save the town.” He nods his head toward Haulani not too far off, their lights flickering in the distance. “And when I got home, I just.. Shut down and spiraled pretty fucking badly. But, he was the bigger prick and pushed me around to let him in and let him stay.” A raise of his brow to that as he exhales slowly through his nose. “So I didn’t quite spiral as badly as I could have. It was still pretty big though, if by how fucking exhausted I was the next day.” Among other things that didn’t need to be said.

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KORBIN

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

Trust wasn't Korbins strong point. It was hard to make him open up, let people in, share anything. It required pretty substantial things. Like... saving his life, or causing a meltdown. Or raising him from a kid into the almost-man he had become. Some things, it seemed, just couldn't be turned away from.

So, for once, Korbin just listened, as Sunjata embarked on his explanation, his extension of trust. No virtuoso still, but the points came across clearly enough. And he found that it echoed events from his own life far more closely than he had expected.

After the man grew quiet, seeming done with the tale, Korbin took a deep breath. Spoke slowly, as if he had to push the words out, lest they dried up again.

"I... don't think I ever did anything wrong. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, but... They kept dying around me anyway. Dad. Then mom just left. Disappeared, without a trace. And when I finally felt like I was starting to understand how things were going, how it all worked... my brother died too. And Weaver..."

He breathed out slowly. Force himself to stretch out, untangle the knot he had made of himself. Long legs extended into the sand, and he leaned back on his elbows. Unconsciously mirroring Sunjata's posture.

"That's the thing that gets me. I didn't fuck anything up. If I did, I would at least know who was to blame for all of it, but like this... I don't even get to curse anyone for taking everything that matters. And who knows when it'll happen next time? Everytime she steps out of sight..."

He shook his head. Felt the old dread rising within, and didn't know what to do with it. How to stop it. Swallowing, he threw a quick glance at Sunjata. Looked away again just as swiftly.

"So... Are you 'dealing' now? Or just... forgetting, that it hurts?"

Forgetting was a damn sight easier. Korbin could relate to that.

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

SuNjATA

the flood

Korbin begins to speak and Sunjata remains silent, nodding along in understanding in a sense, though not entirely. He certainly couldn’t in its full – because a majority of the deaths that surrounded him had all been his fault his way or another, at least implied if not directly caused. And so he simply gnaws on the inside of his cheek, listening until Korbin mirrors his position, and Sunjata’s head finally turns toward the younger attuned.

“Even if you were to blame for it, it still doesn’t help.” Sunjata shrugs to that. In fact, it made the feeling so much worse – knowing what you could’ve done to prevent it. But he understands, and lets Korbin figure it out on his own, because Sunjata certainly couldn’t offer more into it in a way that made sense. So he keeps his lips sealed, watching the water once more as he contemplates where to start.

“Dealing with it, I think.” He shrugs to that. “Nothing that’ll change it now. Don’t really want to forget it.” He takes another deep inhale of breath. “And you just replace the sad memories with good ones, so it doesn’t hurt quite as bad.” He shrugs to that, a small half smile offered to Korbin with that, a tilt of his head.

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