[Training] no one told you to breathe

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

He notes what information she gives him about Kiada – vaguely recalling the girl from a prior season. He mulls it over, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considers the fragility of a mind in a space much like Helovia – a place that she’d informed him of off and on, piecing things together here and there as he tries to formulate his mind. But then she drops another bomb, a comment of the Goddess of the Moon – and how couldn’t his mind drift to Safrin, drift to the weapons she’s making him, the quest he’s been set on.

She’d said to use the blades for justice. Surely that didn’t mean senseless murders, right?

A sharp inhale of breath meets him as he goes to lift the glass of water to his lips, before he sets it back on the countertop and lets his fingers tap against the wood. He can’t tell her that he’s not easily manipulated – because he is, that’s part of his entire childhood, wrapped up nicely to do whatever everyone else wished him to do.

“Hmm.” He manages, a beginning comment to ensure she realizes he’s listening, while his mind races. “I see Safrin soon. We’ll see what she wants out of this.” And hopefully any confirmation of wars and fighting – perhaps a glimpse into who attacked Nate.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MELITA

It’d been uttered to be a warning and nothing more: the gods of Helovia could be fundamentally different from the ones here. But she wanted him to hear about what any deity, cosmic being, or omniscient presence was capable of. The essence of a free reign might’ve been superfluous; will and mettle and grit not the same beneath the wake of an all-powerful legion. Manipulation could come naturally to any of them under a deity’s spell – yearning to be loved and liked and inspired by something of great, grand creation. Experience had told her to be careful, a witness to the end of beloved people and places, from the scourges of deceitful, lying, false pedestals.

Perhaps she’d be entirely mistaken, and there was nothing to fear for Sunjata. Maybe he’d be favored for something else in his repertoire, and there’d be nothing wrong. Nothing dastardly. Nothing but beauty and virtue from the lady Safrin, and all would be well.

She could cross her fingers and hope for the best, while she sailed across the sea. “Of course.” Her smile was tight and forced. “What are your daggers going to do?” What magical effects, when the goddess of the stars was done with them?

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

There’s little for Sunjata to go off of in terms of experience, and it does weigh on him a fair amount with the implications of what Melita says. He understands that she says it out of worry – but he owed Safrin. He still does. She’d changed his life, reached into him and turned his soul into one with claws and feathers and a burning desire to become more than what he was. To prove his father wrong in the fact that he could be strong.

He thinks he’s made it pretty well thus far.

But he puts it in the warning section much like Ronin’s warning had gone, something to think of later. And he focuses on her question of the daggers, a small hum leaving him. “Magic of some sort, not sure what. Perhaps they’ll get some elemental adjustments.” He considers, tilting his head and turning his gaze toward her again. “I wasn’t very specific when I talked to her last to get the quest.” A muscle feathers in his jaw, and then it’s gone as he swallows.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MELITA

Maybe that’s where Melita and Sunjata had differed. Where she willingly went towards Ludo, listened to it, heard its wisdom, she also chose her own path. There were exchanges of memories or sagacity, and occasional pleas, summonings, but otherwise, no owed debt. She’d seen and experienced too much to delve any deeper; between planned assassinations, attempts at eradication, and Helovia being driven straight into destruction, she kept everything compartmentalized. Ludo did not guide her everyday life. Her flames, her aspirations, her ambitions did – a stoking, kindling, of fervency and ferocity based on what churned and burned in the world.

And maybe that wasn’t enough, or just so. Time would tell. It was all she had to give, after everything.

So she ceased in the warnings, hoping he heard her messages, uncertain if he cared, or if he’d charge off again, believing he knew better. Instead, they could meander into discussions of weapons, of what would fuel those serrated edges, how dastardly, how dangerous, how toxic they might be. Something out of all the drama and circumstances, meaningful, useful, meant to be utilized and decimating. Melita arched a brow at the insinuation that he hadn’t asked; the youth had always encompassed some wild, savage ideal into hers – why she had the arrows infused from Remi’s first upheavals, and then gone from there, into sparks and snaps, into ice and glaciers. “It’ll be a surprise then,” and she laughed, striving to break through the tension.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

A huff of a laugh leaves him too, breaking the tension easily as he focuses on his niece once more. “I guess it will be.” He hums thoughtfully, before shaking his head a small amount. “I think I’m to be her dagger.” It comes out a bit soft, a bit of a mix between hopeful and wary – the uncertainty that lingers within. If Amalia was Safrin’s Shield and Ronin her Star… Did that leave him to be her weapon? And if so, has he made a mistake?

Probably. But that would be par for the course.

Instead, all he can do is take another sip of the water before moving to stand and fill the cup up with more – gesturing to Melita in case she wanted more in her own cup as well – before pouring his own and adding a bit of ice into the mix.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MELITA

She lifted her glass to him to be refilled, and then slid quietly back into pondering, into assembling the next response into her mind. It came with a sense of eerie trepidation, and only because of the patterns she’d seen before. Maybe the apprehension and sentiments would be for nothing- and he’d only be a mechanism of action (but something in her blood wound like a spring, and perhaps he’d wandered too close to fire and flames and cosmos again). The youth settled the impending question on the tip of her tongue, brows furrowing slightly, attempting to parse through roles in these schemes and games. “Is that what you asked to be?” Some weapon of the goddess? And what did that signify? That he was at her beck and call to bloody his hands if she yearned, craved, and wished for it? Was it something she’d proclaimed him to be instead, a bestowal, an honor, for everything he’d done?

The honeybee girl had her suspicions, and the unease coiled amongst them – understanding, knowing temptation, and impetuous design – the way it bled through both of their lines – but this seemed beyond foolish. Sadly, exactly something Sunjata would do.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

Is it what he asked to be? He asked to be something for her – and when she’d shown, when the cards were on the table… Yes, yes he did. He asked to be a weapon of sorts, to use his skills for her. There’s a moment where he pauses in pouring his glass, to take a deep sip of it before turning to the bar that separates them now and sets the glass down to brace his arms folded along it – steel gaze lifting to meet his niece’s.

“Yeah, I think I did.” He offers a bit more honestly. “It was… A while ago so the memory is a bit fuzzy but… I asked to be something like Amalia and Ronin to her. And we agreed a dagger would suit best.” Now whether or not he held that title was another story – his daggers would soon be finished, and he’d be on the path of figuring out what exactly it meant to serve the herald of life when he was surrounded by so much death.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MELITA

Too late then; her warning signifying nothing in its belated and delayed prominence. Her eyes went to the floor for a moment, picking through the assemblage of what she wanted to say (are you an idiot? and please be careful clambering through the roughly-hewn). Sunjata had always walked a very dangerous line – sometimes right in the brink of it. It would be arrogant to believe herself out of those pathways, but she’d also never promised Ludo she’d commit to some of these actions. She gave loyalty – freely – but hadn’t gestured to become it’s assassin, or been asked to linger in those realms.

Melita feared for him still; for she didn’t know Safrin well enough, naught beyond kindness or beauty. “Don’t be forced to do something you don’t want to do, then.” Whether it be murder, or some sneaky, duplicitous edges: a dagger signifying naught and everything in one fell swoop – serrated blades, hidden and tucked away, perfected for close contact and combat. The youth wasn’t even sure what would happen if someone told a god or a herald no; but Roana, and so many others, had those opportunities. Maybe they just didn’t want to see the consequences. How deep could one become so mired and beholden?

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

It was already a deal in the making when Sunjata hadn’t known better – when he’d strived for more, when he hadn’t heard the darker edges of what Safrin were capable of. He’d offered himself up on a silver platter for her, destined to become something more. Perhaps a bit of greed longed within there as well, a bit of an added ‘fuck you’ to his father who was sure he’d either fall in line or die too young to be a problem.

Jokes on you, dad, look at him now.

Her next warning is granted a nod – but unsure what else. He doesn’t want to lie with her and adamantly say that he won’t, but if he’s forced to what other choice does he have? Does he wish to face the wrath of a goddess if he says no? He sips lightly from the water once more, turning his steel gaze back on Melita with as reassuring of a smile as he can. “I’ll try not to.” Because in the end that’s really all he can do.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MELITA

She made no mention of how she thought this entire scenario was utterly absurd, stupid, and ridiculous. Mostly it was out of fear for him - the uncertainty and experience warring over any good that might come of his arrangement with Safrin. Perhaps her consternation would be for nothing at all – and she could hope he wouldn’t manage to find himself in some ignorant predicament. His try wasn’t all that grand to start with either; more than once he’d landed himself into hot water without much of a thought or care in the world. It could be Korofian blood, or it could be pure idiocy, and the sigh clicking behind her teeth said as much.

Time for a new topic then, before she found her rage blistering her hands.

She half-tilted her head, inclining it around, surveying their surroundings with subtle shifts and turns, as if conspiring, mulling away possibilities. An innocent air pervaded her essence like a halo, when they both knew it’d been a long time since she’d worn one. “Need anything for the wedding? I can try and find you something while I’m gone.” On some trips with business ventures, new life, new lands, sails on the sea, on the tides, on the waves and currents of change.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

Oh she could tell him that he’s an idiot until she’s blue in the face, would it change anything? Probably not. Sunjata ran off of impulse now — likely from so long of living a life where everything he did had a meaning of sorts, a reason, time to have to think about how things he did came off. Most notably how his mother had died, how he had indirectly spurred it on. But that’s neither here nor there, and the conversation shifts thankfully as his attention flickers back toward Melita with the subject of the wedding — a grin spreading along his face lopsided.

“Just you and your envy inspiring stories.” He teases lightly, before snorting and shaking his head. “If you find something that screams two idiots and someone with a brain, though, that might make a good gift.” He winks, unsure what kind of gift that might look like, but thinking it all the same. Hotaru was certainly the one with the mind, Sunjata wouldn’t argue that in the slightest.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MELITA

“That won’t get you very far.” She shook her head at the teasing, a mimic in mirrored juxtapositions, but the rest seemed to make sense. A snort followed, flickered out into the room, and an eyeroll soon to follow. “I’ll keep my eye out for something.” The notion of weaponry from far away, elsewhere, somewhere laden on the pathways to the sea, came to mind – uncertain of where Hotaru excelled (except in hand-to-hand combat; Melita had been shown that with her multiple views of the sand).

Then a smile, less mischief and more genuine, wholesome, a twist and turn from embers and cinders. “I’m happy for you.” Hopeful it would turn out all right, in the end, with the three of them – and not complicate matters entirely.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

“Mm I suppose you’re right.” He offers with a quiet huff of a laugh, before shaking his head slightly. Regardless, there’s a nod that accompanies it as she mentions she’ll keep her eye out for something – hardly anything else to add. She doesn’t have to get them gifts, he hopes that she knows that. Of course, Sunjata won’t stop her, wouldn’t dream of standing in her way if there was something she wanted to do.

Regardless, the softness of Melita’s voice has a softer smile crossing his face as he turns to look at her from where she sits and he takes up his own seat again. “Thanks.” He offers, genuine and gentle, slinging an arm out to wrap around her shoulders and pull her in for a hug. “I’m happy too.” For the first time in a long time. Perhaps the most genuine happiness he’s had.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me

MELITA

After everything, all the debacles, all the impetuous, impulsive designs, all the botched relationships and shams of marriage dregs, at the very least he’d managed to find something. It might have come out of ruins, other poorly-chosen events, but that Sunjata had ways and means to survive, to find happiness, was enough to assuage the lithe, little firebrand. He had two others to keep an eye on him while she was gone, to rein him in if the going got terribly rough, and to lean upon when everything felt hard, horrid, and difficult. A sigh of relief might’ve floated through her lungs, but she paid no mind to it, handing back her empty glass. “Good. Keep it that way.” Her nose wrinkled, but only in mischief, and not in warning. She rose from her chair, snagging hold of Fangorn, and proffering one last goodbye. “I’ll see you when I get back!”

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts