I come from the water

i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all

A lot has changed. A lot has changed, in a very short amount of time, but nothing really feels different. It fucks with Nate's head. Somehow, between painful, poignant, overdue confessions along with something like wedding vows and the new, grating presence in his mind that seemed to only mistrust and needle at him, he had stayed steady. Kept himself together. Sunjata getting stabbed changed things again. It let in this helpless, useless feeling, even as he stitches up the wound, even as he gives strict instructions in an iron voice.

It's another thing not helped by his ascension, the hours of nothing, nothing but thinking, worrying, hating the time that he would otherwise be sleeping, or drunk, or worse. A feedback loop that takes a trip through Pemota, crystallizing the regret, the subconscious imputation of the Voice, and dribbles back into his own head, a fierce beast he can't hope to contain for as long as he's grasped in it's cycle.

Before, when he'd gotten like this, when he'd begun to turn in this direction, Nate would go for walks. Wander the beach, the streets of Haulani, along the cliffs, anything to fill in the time where he was with himself, when Sunjata was sleeping. Maybe thats part of why he's the way he is now, making laps of the kitchen, not wanting to bother the other man with whatever it is he's working through, but not wanting to leave completely either, an echo of what if what if what if in his head. Maybe if he knew what his problem was, it would be different, but.

But.

Maybe breakfast is in order. They have enough stored up in the kitchen to make something worthwhile, and it’s a good use of his hands, instead of twisting them into worried shreds and dragging his knuckles against counters, trying to feel it. A window is thrown open, to give Pemota the option of spending time with him (she immediately ventures outside, floating peacefully through the last bunches of purple flowers), and Nate gets to work, pulling things out almost at random as he tries to make up his mind.

NATE

I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars

Most mornings Sunjata is regularly used to waking up without Nate beside him in the bed. Most mornings don’t usually go like this does, however, as there’s a brief shimmer of starlight out the window, drifting up from the outdoors that has Haai waking up, yawning and tossing a large paw flat on Sunjata’s stomach, so close to the wound that it has him instantly awake with an ‘oof’ sound leaving him as soon as he realizes what the fuck almost happened. A Korofi grumble to the griffin has her whining before hopping off the bed, giving Sunjata some time to find the paw mark she’d left behind — already too close to the irritated and swollen skin by the stitching.

But it was fine, hadn’t opened up or anything, and silently through the companion bond Sunjata curses at her again. All he receives are just a brief flash of an image of her outside, chasing after a starry wake.

So Sunjata gets up with a quiet groan after a few minutes of recovery, the wound incredibly sore thanks to that wake up call, and pulls on a loose pair of shorts, a hand torn through dark hair that sticks up on the side with how hard he’d slept last night. And he trudges down the stairs to find Nate, grabbing some things out of the cupboards for what Sunjata can only assume is breakfast. Tired steel eyes scan the Ascended, some sort of tangible feeling in the air of what Sunjata can only assume to be restlessness, before he’s in the kitchen and stepping behind Nate (positive the Ascended has heard his approach) and wrapping his arms around Nate’s middle, ever so briefly to squeeze in lieu of a proper tight hug that he wants to give him. “Morning.” He hums to Nate, leaning in just enough to kiss the Ascended’s cheek lightly, before slipping to the other side of him to reach for the ground coffee.

SUNJATA

i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all

His hearing might be good, but they aren’t good enough to hear the commotion upstairs, how dangerously close it had come to one of his what ifs coming true. Nate still knows Sunjata is awake though, because he suddenly feels something that isn’t a low buzz of resentment from Pemota, and since she’s outside, it can only be Haai. In all his time spent in Sunjata’s bed, he has only seen Haai rise without waking the other man once.

Nate pauses his consideration of ingredients to actually light the stove, get a pot of water heating. If he times it right, it should be hot by the time Sunjata made his way downstairs. It feels like he’s doing something, if nothing else. The sound of steps creams down towards him, and he puts away all but a few things, a less random selection now, eggs, a collection of vegetables, as well as some meat and cornmeal. A decision made, just as arms wrap around him, shut everything else out for a moment. Nate’s hand comes up to hold Sunjata head, fingers threading through short hair. ”Morning.” He hums back, as the other man pulls away, looking for coffee,  and Nate’s hands fall back to his task.

”You hungry?” Nate asks, something in his tone silently saying you better be, as he picks up a knife and starts cutting things. Potatoes find their way into a pan first, along with a healthy amount of butter. Onions, garlic, and peppers join it shortly, along with pinches of spices that Nate can only hope are similar to what he needs. ”Don’t use all the water. I’ll need some.”

There’s something stiff in his tone, and despite his best efforts Nate can’t quite shed it, can’t force things to sound completely normal. He does what he can to not linger on it, to keep moving, like maybe if he does, he can get past it.

NATE

I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars

Nate’s hand snakes through sleep tossed hair, and he finds that he could stay like that forever if he wanted to – but coffee calls, and food as if evidenced by how swift Nate’s working, and so he reluctantly pulls away to reach for the ground coffee, slipping it into a cloth filter of sorts (missing the fact that there were far better filters if the technology was there), before he’s tilting his head toward Nate with a soft smile on his lips. “When am I not?” He asks, half truthful, half teasing before pausing to watch Nate toss in spices and food.

But the next words almost seem a bit clipped, almost a bit sharp in comparison as if the pleasantries and comfort are being forced. “Yessir.” He hums back, a bit of effort given into the teasing and playful tone, but also perhaps a bit wary as well. Perhaps the restlessness was more than just that – and Sunjata nods as he reaches for a bit of the water – enough for two cups at least for the familiarity of it to make Nate a cup as well, even if he couldn’t taste it. He thinks it’s the thought that counts, wonders if Nate would drink it anyway just for the memory of it.

So when he finally has the water moving through the filter, he leans against he counter a bit gingerly, fingers reaching out to rest along Nate – wherever he could that wouldn’t have him in the way – before there’s a flash of concern that crosses his face. “is jy okay, skatjie?” He murmurs, a bit softer but he knows Nate can hear him regardless of whether he speaks at his full volume. Something about this seems almost delicate – as if he needs to be softer and gentler with it.

SUNJATA

i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all

Theres something nostalgic about the strangely domestic setting they’re in, if it’s possible to be nostalgic for something you’ve never had. It only adds to the strange, off balance feeling he’s in, though it’s a tip towards the good. A soft smile is thrown towards the other man, fond, warm, despite the shadows in his eyes.

For every tip though, there is a tip back, and this is one he does to himself.

Obviously, his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. And he’s normally so good at dripping honey through the smoke, wrapping the thorns in velvet, but he can’t even manage that. Honestly, Nate isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not. It feels like some kind of failure right now. The struggle is echoed in Sunjata’s voice, and that feel like even more of one. ”Thank you.” There’s something a little softer in Nate’s voice, not necessarily easier, but maybe it’ll feel better to let it be flat than fake a jovial tone he doesn’t feel.

Hands come to rest on him again, around his hips, and Nate pauses, leaning back into the touch. His own hands keep moving, stirring the food in the pan, pushing it to one side so there’s to crack eggs into. The question though, still somehow soft despite the rough edges of Korofi, has his shoulders dropping, has him pulling the pan out of the burner and setting it on top of the stove so he can turn, and reach out to wrap his arms around Sunjata. There’s so much he tries to press into the tight embrace, but it’s not quite enough, doesn’t make up for actual words. ”No, I...” He sighs, and tries the rougher edges of a language that isn’t is, the extra separation helping a little. ”Laat my dit net klaarmaak.” Just a moment that he can force into feeling normal, coffee and breakfast and a comfortable quiet.

Whatever else is settled in his gut, in his throat, can slither out afterwards.

NATE

I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars

A small nod is given at the thank you, before the scent of coffee begins to fill the air – waking him up a small amount more than before, and he uses that momentum to turn toward Nate – to reach out and touch his lover and offer a quiet question of whether or not he’s okay. And perhaps having it in Korofi helps, perhaps not, but Sunjata watches Nate’s shoulders slump – feeling a memory so similar to when he used to be asked if he was okay when he absolutely and most certainly was not.

So he focuses on Nate as he turns, his own arms wrapping around Nate as well, drawing him close and exhaling a quiet sigh as his stomach is pressed – but not pulling away and offers a slight nuzzle of his head beneath raven hair to Nate’s neck, offering a light and tender kiss to the Ascended’s skin. He’s not okay, and it concerns Sunjata immensely (quietly wondering if perhaps he should have asked sooner, before it got to this point), but he’ll wait as asked. He’ll find out later. And if the little gift he can give is agreeing to let Nate finish making breakfast? He will. “Okay.”

Reluctantly, once again, Sunjata pulls away as he hears the last drips of the coffee fill the makeshift glass pitcher, to reach in the cupboard in front of him to grab two coffee cups. He sets them out in front of him on the counter, lifting the pitcher to pour it into both cups, reaching for sugar to add to his cup before doing the same to Nate’s cup, stirring it into both of their cups before he reaches into a drawer to pull out the pack of cigarettes and the makeshift zippo of sorts that Libbs had made him what felt like ages ago.

“Can I help?” He asks, lighting the cigarette and grabbing Nate’s cup to hand to him, flashing him a fanged and gentle smile – trying to help in whatever way he can.

SUNJATA

i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all

Nate takes in a deep breath that he absolutely doesn't need, then nods against the other man's shoulders, squeezing a little bit harder than he really needs to, lingering a moment longer than he really needs to. And there's something a little more genuinely clear in his face when he pulls back, lips quirked up in something that is not a smile, but that is grateful. Sunjata goes to tend to the coffee, and he turns back to the pan, cursing a little bit when he realizes the eggs are harder than what he'd wanted. Another tip towards bad, small as it might be. He sighs, then cracks two more, keeping a closer eye these ones than the first ones.

Now that he's communicated something, even a postponement, Nate lightens, just a bit, able to shut out everything but the task at hand. He turns to start cutting the meat down into slices, setting those in the pan around the eggs and wiping his hand on a towel. He turns as a mug is offered towards him, the smell of coffee obvious, dull as it is. Before he even takes the first sip, he knows there's sugar in it, but he waits until he's sipped it to smile. A good tip, just as small, but filled with more meaning than it should be able to hold.

The offer to help is almost more appreciated than the coffee is, and Nate immediately hums, setting his mug down to point at the water leftover. "Butter in that." Comes the request, his help me cook voice eerily similar to his doctor's orders voice. As Sunjata (hopefully) moves to do as he'd said, Nate grabs the last little bit of onion and garlic he'd had and throws it into the pot. "When that's boiling, add," he hums, wrinkles his nose as he considers, "about a mug? Of the cornmeal. Don't stop stirring it."

As soon as he's done dishing out instructions, Nate reaches out to take the cigarette from between Sunjata's lips and put it in his own mouth smiling mutely around it as he returned to his own pan. If he was standing maybe a little closer to Sunjata than he really needed to, then he wasn't going to point it out. But his own pan is done quicker than what he's directed the other man to do, and pulled away from heat so Nate can lean more fully against the attuned. "This is gonna be good." He promises softly.

NATE

I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars

The mug is handed, and he draws in a deep pull from the cigarette, offering a lighter smile back toward Nate with a playful wink. They weren’t too different after all, really, when it came down to the little things. Sugar in black coffee being one of them. And he waits for his to cool a small amount before following Nate’s lead in taking a sip – letting the warmth seep through tired and aching bones, exhaling a comfortable sigh of content with that before he’s peering back at Nate and offering help.

He doesn’t know what he’s signed up for.

But he sets the mug down, popping the cigarette into his lips to hold it so he can at least work with his hands – steel gaze shifting toward the butter as he grabs a small knife to cut the butter and put it in – hearing more of the demands requests, before he’s chuckling lightly at the tone that’s used. “Ah, alright.” He hums, refraining from staring at the pot and waiting for it to boil (because a watch pot never boiled, right?) but when he hears it, he does exactly as instructed and grabs a wooden spoon of sorts to stir it and follow that absolute instruction as well.

His gaze finds Nate again when the cigarette is pulled from his lips, but he continues to stir until Nate tells him to stop – though his gaze can’t quite leave the other man, not as Nate leans into him and Sunajta wraps his free arm around him and keeps him close as well after the Ascended has moved his pan. “You know, Nate, everything you make is good.” He offers with a light laugh. “Oh, also, Melita and I took down a ramphire a few days ago – it’s sectioned and we have enough to last a while...” He murmurs thoughtfully, eyes focusing back on his pan. “Rumor has it that the feathers and horns can be used for medicinal things. So I saved those for you.” He offers, squeezing Nate lightly and moving a small amount to bump his hip into the Ascended as his gaze lifts toward Nate again.

SUNJATA

i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all

Sunjata just smiles in response to his instructions, forceful as they are, and it brings more of a smile to his own lips, his eyes crinkling just a little bit. All of those what if's, those worries that plague him when he's alone seem to vanish so easily now, in a warm kitchen in an early morning, someone he loves by his side. But he can't be here forever, won't, can't ask that of the other man. Nate feels a little queasy just thinking about it, a strange sensation he doesn't think his body should be able to mimic as accurately as it does.

An arm is wrapped around him without hesitation, and reciprocated in the same moment, one arm snaking around Sunjata's back, the other returning the smoke to the attuned's lips, then dropping to  hover over the stitches on his front, not wanting to put too much pressure on them after his earlier mistake with the other hug. "I know that's not true." He says accusingly, more warmth in his voice now than there has been all morning. "But I'm also pretty sure you'll eat nearly anything I make anyway." Then, even better, he makes another, far more successful, attempt at humour. "And if this isn't good, I guess we can blame your part of it." Another kiss is pressed against Sunjata's cheek with this, Nate settling as the water boils and his instructions are followed. His head comes to rest on the other mans shoulder, shifting to look up and smile as Sunjata talks about hunting with Melita, meat, and something else, something saved for him. Nate leans in close again, pressing his lips against whatever he can reach without restricting the other man's arms, and sighs out a soft "I love you."

As the attuned stirs, the liquid in the pot begins to thicken, something like porridge, made savoury by the alliums added early on, and Nate shifts to grab two bowls, scooping a healthy amount into both of them, and topping it with the fried potato mix, the eggs and 'bacon' placed on top. If it tasted half as good as it looked, he would be happy, but he wouldn't be able to tell. Both bowls are held in one hand, his mug in the other, breakfast carried to the table, after a very brief stop to press a kiss to Sunjata's cheek, and request that he grab "Spoons, or... maybe forks. Whatever you want."

The good eggs, the ones he actually paid attention to, are set down in front of Sunjata, Nate sitting and waiting to be joined before he starts eating, and not only because he doesn't have any cutlery yet. He wants this moment to last as long as it can, to linger, and overstay it's welcome, if only so he doesn't have to welcome what he knows will come next. They are too irritatingly alike for his shift into a good mood to be accepted so easily, for Sunjata to not push at it.

NATE

I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars

The cigarette is placed back in his lips, but he doesn’t remove his arm from Nate nor does he stop stirring the pot with his other hand. Instead, he drags from the cigarette a bit lightly, exhaling smoke that curls around his nose as he watches Nate inspect the stitching briefly — wondering if he sees the red paw mark that’s close to it but off to the left. But the words that leave the Ascended have an innocent look crossing Sunjata’s face, though the smile that forms around the cigarette has it hanging a small amount as he hums a light laugh. “Look, anything is better than the shit we ate in the resistance.” He offers, a visible shudder running through his spine as he recalls it. “But by all means, blame me. I won’t tell.” A playful wink is given, ahhh of a laugh.

It’s not like he knows what he’s doing in the kitchen anyway.

But he leans into Nate, turning his head slightly to catch the kiss on his lips and return it, steel eyes easily finding electric blues. “Love you too.” He murmurs softly — finding it so much easier to say it the more times he does, so much less anxiety and nausea inducing.

He continues to stir until he really kind of can’t anymore, and thankfully Nate is there with the bowls and alleviating him from his job as the verified pot stirrer (ha, get it?) before he’s pulling out of Nate’s grip to grab the utensils, watching Nate balance the bowls and fill them, as well as grabbing his mug. Sunjata takes the time to grab both spoons and forks, because why not both? And puts the cigarette out in an ashtray by the window before grabbing his own cup of coffee and moving to sit beside Nate rather than across — wanting to give him as much of the closeness he can with his body and his person.

He sets the mug down beside his bowl, giving both a fork and a spoon to Nate before he’s grabbing his own fork to pierce into the food — but he’s got a decent amount of those Korofi traditions when it comes to politeness (quite ingrained deep in his mind) and he waits for Nate to take the first bite before he follows suit. Though he pauses just enough to offer him a brighter grin, a hand reaching over to run his thumb along Nate’s cheek and run his fingers through his dark hair before he retracts. “Thank you.” For breakfast, and for everything.

SUNJATA

i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all

Of course the paw print, so dangerously close to stitches, leaving them redder than they should, irritated. Nate knows if he could feel it, the area would be warm, angry, but the fact that he can’t don’t stop him gently settling his hand down in the hopes that the cool will be soothing. It’s only there for a moment anyway, before he’s moving, the hand swiping up Sunjata’s chest to come and rest on tattooed lines, offering a laugh in response to the shudder, the wink.

The words have been on his lips since they’d had their talk, up on the top floor of the boxing ring, and Nate really did drop them at every possible opportunity. There were a hundred moments he’d held his tongue that he had to make up for. ”I know you do.” He offers back softly, glad for the newfound ease of it in Sunjata as well. It felt right. Had felt right the first time he said it, surprising the both of them, had felt right in the ring, felt right every time he’d said it since. And, for a handful of blessed moments, it makes everything else feel right too.

But he has to step away, can’t linger in this spot forever, as he keeps learning, each time a surprise, a new, quiet disappointment. Breakfast is put together in the bowls, set on the table to wait for Sunjata, much like Nate does with his sips of coffee, and bright, watchful eyes.

Nate’s own traditions are less strict, at least when it comes to meals. The attuned comes to sit at the table, as close as Nate had hoped for, a long leg immediately lifting to rest across the other mans lap like a seatbelt. He takes a spoon instead, and gives everything in the bowl a stir, before he takes a bite with a little bit of everything in it, raising a brow towards Sunjata as he does. ”Well, it’s not poison.” He jokes, the trick of it finally coming back to him, keeping the words smooth, easy. Granted, the flavours aren’t quite as strong as he wants either, but that’s not a problem the other man will have. And with his first bite taken, Nate pauses, eyes focused on Sunjata’s fork, the all important first bite.

Not that his mood for the rest of the morning is riding on it or anything. Not that it’s obvious. He’s always this intense when he stares at the other man, sharp eyes unblinking, mouth set in a hard line. Nate does make a single, failed attempt at being more casual though, his mug raised to his lips, like he’s just taking a sip. A long, long sip.

NATE

I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars

Sunjata could linger in this moment forever if he wanted to — and gods wouldn’t that be nice? To sit there and watch as things went by, never fully in the danger of crawling home with blood everywhere, requiring stitches with the problems of blood loss making his mind fuzzy. But the thought doesn’t last, because the path he’s chosen to go on was dangerous and problematic, and it was the first of many as he’s sure will come. He only hopes that he hasn’t made a mistake in getting too involved in his head before diving into the danger to think what Nate might think.

But that’s a topic for later, as he still plans to bring it up. Nate can’t quite pretend to get out of it just yet. Sunjata plays along, for the ease and the memory this day would spark of a simple mörning with breakfast and coffee and cigarette smoke lingering in the air while the star whale and griffin play outside in the morning sunlight.

He sits at the table, his right hand leaving Nate’s hair to withdraw back toward himself, feeling Nate’s leg as it drapes across him and he hums a soft laugh as he rests that same hand along the Ascended’s thigh. But he picks up his fork with his dominant hand, choosing to pick a bit of egg, potato, and the porridge mixture all into the fork, pausing in wait for Nate to take a bite as the words leave the Ascended’s lips. There’s a hum of laughter that leaves Sunjata, flashing a rogue smirk his way., flashing off the poisonous fangs of his cobra shift briefly before his teeth shift back and he can focus on food. “Poison isn’t on my agenda today, unless I’m the one doing the poisoning.” He winks back, settling into the ease of it as he takes his own bite.

Nate’s unnatural stare has never bothered Sunjata, where it might have bothered others. And when he downs the first bite with an appreciative and relieved sigh, he squeezes Nate’s leg as he moves the fork in to grab a bit bigger of a bite, flashing a grin toward him as he adds another bit of playfulness. “This is really good... I didn’t do too bad of a job.” He winks yet again, a louder laugh leaving him with the statement of taking the blame from earlier, settling in comfortably to taking the credit where he absolutely had none. Still, he returns to his bowl, not realizing just how hungry he is, and continues to eat.

SUNJATA

i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all

Sitting down seems to spark some kind of finality in Nate's mind, though he would rather anything but, would rather let the morning linger on in this soft, warm bubble. Would rather not have to step into the swirl that lurks just under the tightly clamped lid of calm, while his focus is pulled elsewhere. That manages to poke it's head up, when he least expects it, when he has no one around to help work it through, even if he wanted to.

Nate's getting ahead of himself though, throwing his mind forward when it's much better suited for the now, the hand moving from his hair down to his leg, and teeth poking out from between lips, his own joke reflected back at him. "I was kind of hoping there was nothing on your agenda today, actually." His voice hovers right on a razers edge, as likely to drop into a sullen darkness as it is to bounce in to a joke, and for a moment Nate teeters, before a grin splits his face. "I wouldn't say no to a few bites though, if you wanted."

His face sobers again, serious, and intense as he watches Sunjata take his first bite, parts of him loosening, relaxing, when the reaction is positive. In any other moment, any other morning, it wouldn't matter so much, but this is not any other moment, or any other morning. This is now, breakfast a sanctuary he can cling to, as long as it's done right.

But there is a moment of scandalized surprised on Nate's face as Sunjata claims credit for breakfast, his lips curling around another bite. He was swallows quickly, fast enough that he should choke, though it's been a while since his body cared about what it should do, and he needs to get a laugh out without spraying food. "You did a good job. Maybe next time we can get you past stirring and onto chopping." He reaches out to nudge Sunjata's arm with the words, the idea of cooking together making something in the back of his jaw, in his chest ache. The kind of thing he'd never even let himself imagine, because it was never going to happen, but now...

Now.

Now he had it, and he had no idea how to hold onto it, except to try to cling, to dig his heels in and refuse to let things change again. It was unsustainable, and the more he tried, the more explosively it would fall apart.

He tries to not think about it instead, at least for now, tries to focus on the meal. Slower than Sunjata, half on purpose, so there's something to offer when the other man cleans his plate, and half because he's trying to savour every little bit of taste he can, in lieu of any need for the food.

NATE

I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars

He isn’t being sensitive with his jests to the Ascended, and nor does he intend on changing his tone as Nate’s own falls between something Sunjata knows far too well. That edge of a blade with one slip either way to ruin what was there. He can almost feel the tension in the air with it as Nate struggles, but he plays along. What else can be done? He won’t force Nate to say what’s on his mind, all he can do is sit there and try and get that bit of conversation to flow on Nate’s terms, and to be there to listen. And so he does exactly that, letting his steel gaze linger on Nate — a light squeeze to the Ascended’s leg once more — before he has a brow raising and a feline smirk crossing his face.

“That can be arranged.” He hums back easily into the joke, before he’s eating again. His schedule is clear for a day spent with Nate — and even if it wasn’t clear, he’d make it that way. Something about this morning feeling extra important, as if he absolutely couldn’t see himself leaving without him. And so the days plan becomes the Ascended, not like you’d find Sunjata complaining about it. Instead it simply just is, a comfortable span of time to have what he has while it lasts and to give it and give Nate his all.

He reaches for his coffee when Nate hears his words, and Sunjata’s half into a sip before he snorts and almost sends a wave of coffee over the side of the mug with the air from the exhale , before he takes a true sip and sets the cup down, giving Nate a playfully pained look. “Oh I don’t know. Chopping sounds incredibly hard.” He teases, whining slightly through his accented and rough tone, before steel eyes slip back toward Nate with a boyishly crooked smile. Never mind the fact that if there was one weapon Sunjata was intimately familiar with, it was daggers and knives. It’s evident in the way he uses the cutlery, the swift strokes of a knife slipping through the butter earlier and dropping it into the pot. It’s evident in the way his hands are calloused from the handles of Safrin’s daggers.

But there’s a whole other issue isn’t there? The Old Gods and the New Gods. And what did that mean for the life he had right now? What did it mean for the people like them that could live like this? What then?

He swallows down those thoughts as he does indeed begin to clean his plate, leaning back and shifting in the seat a bit, keeping his hand on Nate’s leg as he reaches for the coffee again to sip from before setting it down. His eyes find Nate again, to the bowl before the Ascended, and he reaches over with a fork to grab a rogue potato Nate hadn’t eaten yet, flashing him a wink before he eats it.

SUNJATA