pour one out for her

you wouldn't even recognize me anymore

not that you knew me back then

Even if no official news comes until Flowerbirth, Wessex feels bound to report the death to the guild; the subsequent regime change and upheaval is just additional information that happens to be useful. Heart heavy, tears - fuck it, let’s call them tears - as yet unshed for Weaver, she arrives at the Slagveld one evening looking more than a little weary, if it’s even possible for an Asended to look like that. Loki is not with her to help ease any distress, and perhaps it’s better not to have an agitated dragonling flying about.

Entering the ring, the Wraith calls out quietly, “Sunjata?” He’d be expecting her at some point - whether it was this soon is anyone’s guess.

but it all comes back to me in the end

WESSEX

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

It truly is poor timing, but then again when does he ever find a good time for shitty news to reach him? Between the recent events, LongNight’s approach, and everything else… Well, he’s drained, wounded — not as much as Nate has been — and everything seems to weigh down hard. The wound to his neck no longer needs to be bandaged, but it is a fun, scabbed, awful sight. His stitches are no longer in his gut, but the scar placed there is pink and sharp in contrast to the shark bites and multitude of other scars that mar his skin.

And really the only thing Sunjata can do to get his pent up frustration out is to train. And that’s how Wessex finds him, using a punching bag to tear out his aggression. He almost doesn’t notice her, not until his name is uttered and the fist that meets the bag pauses, both wrapped hands reaching out to grab it from swinging back as his gaze lifts to find her. She looks just about as good as he does, he thinks.

So he begins to unwrap his hands, slipping over toward her with a small nod. “Wessex, what brings you back to Torchline so soon?” He asks, a sentence usually full of humor falls flat as he reaches for a hand towel to wipe the sweat from his brow and goes to grab a glass of water, gaze lifting to her with a raised brow and a silent question of whether or not she wants anything to drink, even if it doesn’t affect her the way it would affect him.

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

SUNJATA

you wouldn't even recognize me anymore

not that you knew me back then

Torn between genuinely startled and an eye roll at how he has definitely not kept himself in once piece, Wessex raises an eyebrow. Is that also some good ‘ol frustration release she sees? Not that the Wraith is one to judge, she’s wailed on Amun and vice versa, just to feel a little better. “Nothing good,” she replies solemnly, watching as he goes to get a drink of water.

“You might want something stronger than that,” she replies, then adds quickly. “I’ll take one too.” Doesn’t matter what time it is - she likes to think that after the initial news is delivered, that Weaver would want them all drinking in her honor. If not merry, then definitely not depressed. Waiting until Sunjata returns with their drinks, she takes her and refrains from sipping, looking at it a second too long. Glancing at the Guildmaster, she make sure he’s sitting before ripping out his proverbial sutures again.

“It’s Weaver. She’s dead.”

but it all comes back to me in the end

WESSEX

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

Nothing good isn’t the answer he wants to hear, nor does it spark any sort of relief within him. If anything, it burns further in his gut, that panging, glimmering sorrow of the depths of him he’s not sure even has a bottom anymore. So he downs his glass of water, pulls out something strong, pours one for her and one for himself before dropping into a seat.

But he waits before drinking it, for his gaze to linger on the way Wessex stares at the glass, before her words are uttered with a slight glance sent his way. And he stills, glass still in his hand, gaze narrowing on Wessex to try and find the lie as if he’s unsure he can handle yet another blow. And Weaver? Out of everyone he simply thought she’d be the one that lasted. Perhaps her fires burned too hot too, scorching her out with a recklessness they both had ingrained into their thick skulls.

So he leans back, huffing out a deep sigh, some laugh of disbelief crossing him momentarily before he shakes his head. “What happened?” Because it had to be more than a simple death. If he knew Weaver at all, he at least knew that.

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

SUNJATA

you wouldn't even recognize me anymore

not that you knew me back then

No lies here, no omissions, no half-truths; Wessex meets his gaze without flinching, the rest of her face pinched into pained lines.

“It’s quite a story.” Huffing in disbelief, she places her drink down, perhaps subconsciously saving it for a toast at the end - the past couple of days have been little more than cleaning, taking care of the Kraai, and solemn may she burn brightly’s.

“I missed the main event, apparently. Eirachi swept through the Citadel, destroying half of the palace and a bit of Snowcloak, while a horde of cultists beat down their gates. A group was able to hold them off. But after that, they demanded Neron step down. I guess he had made a promise to Eirachi and then was unable to fulfill it… but Zariah… also made a deal with the spirit? That part’s a bit muddy. They were both locked away and Loren denounced his name.” But it’s still a clusterfuck, much like their own politics in the Grounds and elsewhere. Wherever they go, the Launceleyns seem to bring drama.

“Weaver was named new Warden. Everything seemed to be going fine until a fucking dragon dropped a massive Ursur by the Citadel, and with no gates... and no real guard, because they died in the attack, Weaver went out to fight it. She won against the bear, but the dragon came back for its dinner. Skewered her and the bear in its talons.” Shaking her head, the Wraith can’t help but think that it was a damn waste of a good life. She died protecting her people, but it should have been someone else. Morgan, maybe.

“And now Morgan’s been named new Warden. And she wants to implement a tracking system for Ascended. Thinks we’re a threat to Halovians.” That, at least, earns an eye roll as her elbows go to her knees and she just stares at the floor. “It’s… been a hard week or so. Taking care of the Kraai and everything.

but it all comes back to me in the end

WESSEX

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

It’s quite a story – and so he settles in for it. He downs half the glass in front of him, before he’s leaning back against the couch, a frown crossing his face as he focuses on listening to what she says. The Eirachi destroying half the Palace and Snowcloak paired with cultists. There’s a raise of his brow at the mention of Neron stepping down, wondering where the man would go with such a shift in change. Zariah’s name garners a slight frown. Loren’s name grants a raise of his brow.

Somewhere internally, he’s really fucking happy for the summoner for doing that. But it’s doused by everything else he hears.

Weaver becomes Warden, which surprises him enough. But it’s not until the mention of a dragon has his gaze narrowing, jaw clenching, focusing too hard on that part of the story. “What color was the dragon?” He asks, a bit gruffly, jaw still clenched as he wonders if he’d stirred the great beast, if it was still somehow his fault one way or another, or how many guildmates of his this dragon would hoard.

He doesn’t know Morgan, the tracking system of the Ascended not particularly affecting him – because he’s not planning on going to Halo and neither is Nate. The rest of Caido? Well, he supposes they’ll come to it when they do. So Sunjata downs the rest of the glass, setting it on the table as he reaches back to run a hand through his hair. “That is a story.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose – somewhere internally cringing and reflecting on Delphia’s recollection of who he was. But he pushes those thoughts away to spiral about later among everything else on his shoulders.

“Do you think Neron would take care of the Kraai?” He asks suddenly, wishing to change the subject. “He doesn’t know about the Guild but he did give me the permission to build it. Might be an option in the meantime.” Of course he can’t get word there – so it would have to be Wessex’s doing in order to inform he ex-Warden. Of course it also depends on what Morgan plans to do with the Ascended, and that certainly complicates things doesn’t it?

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

SUNJATA

you wouldn't even recognize me anymore

not that you knew me back then

What color was the dragon? Her brows furrow, not quite sure why he would ask that sort of question. “White, I think.” Like everything else in Halo.

At his acknowledgement, Wessex simply nods slowly, again, and lifts her drink. Sunjata may have already finished his (or not), but she takes the opportunity to lift it and offer the Halovian response, “May she burn brightly” before tipping half of it back and pouring out the rest.

“Mmmm, I doubt it.” It might not be a great idea to have a man who can’t really taste the liquor taking care of a bar. “There’s an Outlander named Chulane who seemed to be working in the kitchens and may be able to take over.” Whether it can continue to be used as a guild outpost is another story, but perhaps they can work on that… or just give it up entirely. Weaver was a unique Halovian, she’s come to find. “There’s also Korbin. But he isn’t much good right now. I don’t know if he’ll ever want to, even if they see it as a ‘Hale’ establishment.” And she certainly isn’t going to take up the job, having no desire to stay in one place long enough to run it. It’s…. something to think about for Flowerbirth. On top of everything else.

“What’s with the new scars?” Aka, what the fuck did you do recnetly?

but it all comes back to me in the end

WESSEX

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

White.

There’s a long drawn out sigh that leaves him from his nose, lifting the glass to down the rest of it before the glass is clattering to the tabletop again. “Fuck.” He replies in somewhat of a hiss, a burning in his gut that’s both alcohol and frustration. Wondering how many of his guildmates might be taken by those white dragons – if it’s the same one or another.

But there’s a nod granted to Wessex with the comment of burning brightly, despite the fact he clenches his jaw, questions whether Neron might take up the bar, the idea of Chulane – a stranger he hasn’t met yet but likely would have to when the portals reopened if that were the case – and lastly… Korbin. “I’m quite possibly Korbin’s least favorite person.” He offers with a slight huff, letting his gaze land back on Wessex, narrowing his gaze slightly. “He and I absolutely don’t get along.” A rise and fall of a shoulder to that before he’s reaching into the drawer beside the seating area, grabbing a stashed away bottle for moments like this when he’d downed the contents too fast.

He pours some into his glass again and a smidge more into hers should she want more, before his gaze remains on the drinkware. “Stabbed in the gut trying to stop a robbery, got shot in the neck in one of my shifts.” He explains – leaving it at that. That’s all that had happened directly to him at least.

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

SUNJATA

you wouldn't even recognize me anymore

not that you knew me back then

Raising a brow at his quiet expletive (for the timing of it, not for the use itself), it stays raised all the way through his statement about Korbin. “Honestly, it might be better to just give it up as a guild outpost. The Halovians may not take too kindly to an outsider trying to take on their best bar.” It is, of course, her personal opinion on the matter. “But that’s your decision.” Whether or not she’d back him if he tries to take it back is another story… all depends on how she can frame it, take the temperature of the Halovian crowd.

With a nod to thank him for the refill, she knows she’ll stop at that. No sense wasting his alcohol. In fact, she feels the need to change the topic as well. “Hope Nate is taking good care of you, then.” Alluding, of course, to the fact that he was a Doctor in another time. She has no idea that her brother has new scars as well.

Maybe it's for the best, lest she go rampaging during LongNight, when she has so many other things to do.

but it all comes back to me in the end

WESSEX

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

Perhaps her response shouldn’t burn in his gut the way it does – but it burns, along with the myriad of other things he’s had thrown in his face about being an Outlander. And he’s likely overreacting, though it’s to be expected with the piss poor news he’s received as of late, the things he’d witnessed happening in his own home as of late, that he can’t help the slight clench of his jaw to her suggestion. “An outsider taking on their best bar?” He replies somewhat dryly, throwing back the rest of the liquid in his glass. “I got them that bar. I supplied them with whatever they needed. Weaver expanded on it. But in the end, it’s still mine.” He manages to say without coming off too much as a prick, at least he thinks so.

Anyway, it’s not directed at Wessex so much as the idea of some other good thing he’s done going by the wayside in favor for the less favorable things.

But he pours her a bit more in her glass regardless, and he leans back as he focuses on explaining the shit he’s gotten into. And as she mentions Nate, his gaze shudders a small amount as he nods – taking a deep inhale. “He is.” A quiet confirmation, but also keeping the information of his attack within him. Nate didn’t want anyone to know, and Sunjata would keep that secret until Nate felt ready to tell everyone what had happened. Still, it was a gruesome wound, not quite healed – and a blinded eye of all things.

He doesn’t blame his lover for waiting.

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

SUNJATA

you wouldn't even recognize me anymore

not that you knew me back then

Watching the Arbieter with a mild expression as he explodes in an outburst of possessiveness, the Wraith quietly resolves to either shelve that part of the conversation for now or just let it die entirely and have him figure out the Halovians’ nature for himself. Without being a constant face in the Citadel, she thinks he’ll have his work cut out for him if he wants to reclaim the bar. Especially if Korbin doesn’t like him.

His pour is kind, but she shakes her head and pushes it towards him. “Think you need it more than me right now,” she says gently. There’s an emotional pause and in the same tone, she says, “I’m sorry,” half for bringing the bad news and half for losing a friend.

“I’m going to find Hotaru and see if she’ll come to the Climb with us - that’s what the place is called, apparently.” The Wraith stands in a single, fluid motion, unhampered by the booze and tucking her emotions in tightly. After all, LongNight will soon be upon them and they’re likely to ride the death roller coaster again soon enough. “I’ll be around if you need anything. Have Haai find Loki.”

And then she’s gone again, to let Sunjata grieve privately if he wishes.

but it all comes back to me in the end

WESSEX