there is quiet, for just a moment

Phoebe

the nightingale

The nightingale appear'd the first
And as her melody she sang

The dry spells in between the downpour of rain were rare now, so Phoebe made sure to take advantage of them whenever she could. Errands still needed to be run, supplies needed to be gathered - running a brothel was a resource heavy endeavor after all as room and board was a large portion of the prostitutes' wages. And though she could and did still run about the market when it was raining, it was far easier to do during these short breaks.

But as she walked down the street, she paused in front of the notice board, scanning it for anything she might find of interest of use. Honeyed eyes paused on the notice she had left about the strangers, a slight frown curving her lips. She had yet to have anyone come and discuss the members of the Order with her. Perhaps she and Remi were the only ones they had reached out to - which was entirely possible she supposed. They seemed to have interest in individuals who met rather specific criteria; criteria she doubted many in a place like Torchline would meet. Reaching into her basket, she pulled out a pen to amend her notice.

'Finn Rosencrantz'

Maybe seeing the slight change in name would help bring interest to it again - and bring others forward.

The apple into blossom burst
To life the grass and violets sprang

SUNJATA

the flood

you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face

It had been a few days since the sea panther, and a lot had happened since then. He’s still tired, exhausted, sore along his sides and mentally as well. A constant flex and unflexing of his right hand where he’d been struck with the lightning, if only to keep the scars from tightening up. Still, it was exhausting. He was exhausted. But there was so much to be kept track of.

Notably, this Order everyone keeps talking about.

He’d seen Phoebe’s request for information on it, a part of him imagining he should also be in charge of figuring it out — it is his job, after all — but they hadn’t talked. He hasn’t sought her out since last year. She hasn’t sought him out either.

Today has other plans, however, dropping by the Notice Board to see if there’s anything he’d missed while recovering, and when he finds her standing there he wonders just how this interaction would go. He takes a deep breath, moves to stand closer to the notice board, letting his gaze scan it. “I see you’ve gotten his last name now.” A quiet probing question before he turns to officially look at his ex-wife in what feels like an eternity.

by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it

Phoebe

the nightingale

The nightingale appear'd the first
And as her melody she sang

That voice...Phoebe would remember that voice for as long as she lived, no matter how hard she tried to forget.

Though she was physically not terribly different than Jata likely remembered, he might notice the slight shift in her attitude - the look in her eye - that indicated just how different she had grown to be. Once warm honey eyes glanced at him slowly, withdrawn, walls up, wary as she finally laid eyes on him. Once expressive and easy to read, her face fell blank, lips drawn tight. The Midwife turned Madame had grown stronger in his absence, but she felt she had her reasons to keep an iron guard up. It had been a year, and though she was aware that Harper had spoken with Jata about her, had told him things about her, she knew next to nothing about his whereabouts.

"Yes, I did." she said softly, placing her pen back in her basket. "Did you have something to add or were you just making an observation?" she asked. Why was he striking up a conversation with her? A year of silence and now idle conversation as they happened to pass by? What was his game?

The apple into blossom burst
To life the grass and violets sprang

SUNJATA

the flood

you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face

He certainly got her attention, and if he had been more imaginative, he might have imagined her like a cat, the hairs along her spine rising as soon as he’d opened his mouth. But he isn’t, and he simply stands there folding his arms across his chest, letting his steel gaze take her in — the similarities and differences — just as he had changed too. Far more scars, far more tattoos. Safrin’s tattoos black out both arms to his wrist, the stars within the waves shifting as if a gravitational pull is tugging them to and fro. And his right hand, flecked with pale scars that look like lightning, branching through his hand and following each vein before disappearing beneath the tattoo.

Of course there are the feathers along his shoulders too, the left one missing part of it with a long burn scar that leaves it pale and sad in comparison. She looks like she’s kept herself together and strong, and he looks as though he’s torn himself apart again and again to ensure everyone here was safe.

“I was going to add his last name… Or at least maybe talk to you about them. I’ve only met Finn.” He admits, shifting to focus on the Notice Board again, his scarred hand lifting to tap at the name as he scours the other names listed. “Of course that depends on if you’re willing to talk to me.” A glance cast over his scarred shoulder toward her again, a raise of a dark brow.

by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it

Phoebe

the nightingale

The nightingale appear'd the first
And as her melody she sang

He looks far worse for wear and yet somehow she isn't surprised. The tattoos, the burns, the scars - it all reflected how hard he tried to destroy himself in one form or another. It seemed that part of him hadn't changed at least, no matter how much Harper tried to defend him and his so called growth. Phoebe had thought Jata capable of it once, and he had taken great pride in proving her wrong.

Honeyed eyes shifted to gaze at her notice as he tapped it, before returning to Jata. His little quip grates at her more than she would like to admit, but she can meet salt with salt. "I posted the notice asking for anyone with information to talk to me about it. You are part of anyone, aren't you?" she said dryly, raising a brow as she crossed arms. "Though I suppose it wouldn't look good to be caught talking to the woman that wrecked poor, poor Jata's life, would it? Makes much more sense to shift the blame to me again."

The apple into blossom burst
To life the grass and violets sprang

SUNJATA

the flood

you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face

He supposes she's right in the aspect that he is just anyone. At least it seemed more like that every day. Regardless of how much he’d stuck his neck out for those here. He mulls over the question, humming a quiet agreement before he’s turning to face her again, brow remaining raised as she spits that accusation back at him.

A feline grin crosses his face with it, however. “It happened almost a year ago, Phoebe. A lot of things have happened since then, and frankly nobody in Torchline gives a damn.” His gaze flicks away from her to the surrounding area, along familiar and not familiar faces, before landing back on her. “I certainly don’t care anymore. As far as anyone’s concerned, an ex-husband and ex-wife can have civil conversations.” His arms move to fold against his chest again, leaning back against the wall the notice board is situated on, his gaze soft, his neck littered with silvery scars from the very same man that ruined the wedding between them.

by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it

Phoebe

the nightingale

The nightingale appear'd the first
And as her melody she sang

That cat-like grin once set her heart a flutter now made her want to wretch. He oozed more slime than a snail on a Longheat day. How had she ever found it alluring? Ignorance, clearly, and nothing more.

She stayed stiff as he continued to assert he had no bone to pick (which she still wasn't entirely sure she believed), but ultimately decided a stare down would get her nowhere. "Then stop making excuses for not coming to ask about these people, besides your own lack of follow through." she said dryly, gesturing to the notice. He wasn't going to get away with trying to lay blame then claiming not to care. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have excuses.

"So what is it you want to know or have heard? Finn talked to you?" she said, getting down to business.

The apple into blossom burst
To life the grass and violets sprang

SUNJATA

the flood

you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face

“What excuses?” He questions, feeling himself begin to bristle as he always was prone to do when she was like this — but he inhales sharply, exhales slowly, easily realizing its not worth any of the arguments that ensue. “Not excuses. Just busy. Like killing the sea panther that lured a fair amount of Haulani to their deaths just the other day.” A brow raises to that, before he’s pushing off the wall and moving to step a bit closer to her.

He nods to her comment, looking further down the alleyway. “I met Finn, but he didn’t tell me anything about what he was or what he was here for. What I want to know is who these people are and what they want. And if it’s any way connected to the Fae that’s been murdering and attacking Ascendeds.” He lets his gaze flicker back to her, his skin evidence of just how much he cared about ensuring the Ascended’s safety within Torchline.

by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it

Phoebe

the nightingale

The nightingale appear'd the first
And as her melody she sang

"That you didn't come talk to me because of my potential unwillingness." she said dryly. He didn't even realize when he made excuses, that was how easily they flowed from his lips. Internally she rolled her eyes. And though it was impressive, killing a Sea Panther, and she had to refrain from asking questions, she found herself struggling for sympathy. Protecting people was his job here after all.

She considered him for a moment, sighing a bit. "Fine. I will tell you what I know but not here. Somewhere we won't be heard." she said, glancing around. They seemed to come from the woodwork after all.

The apple into blossom burst
To life the grass and violets sprang

SUNJATA

the flood

you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He rumbles equally as dryly but working to keep his calm. She’s always managed to get under his skin, it has to be a perk of hers. Regardless of what she chose to think, he remains just as sturdy on his own point. He’s been busy, taking care of Nate, getting himself in too deep in too many places, stretched thin enough as it is. He hasn’t had time to come and seek out his ex-wife just on the off chance she didn’t deign to speak with him on the subject. But he’s trying, throwing a bone, and she throws one back.

Fine, a mutual agreement yet again.

“Alright. Got a place in mind?” He questions. They could in theory go to the Slagveld, he’s sure parts of it would be secure enough. But he also doesn’t want her knowing that part of him. He’d kept it secret for long enough, at least. Still, an arm moves to gesture to the alley ahead of them. “After you.”

by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it

Phoebe

the nightingale

The nightingale appear'd the first
And as her melody she sang

The temptation to comment on his quip was quite real, but she resisted if only for the sake of avoiding further argument. She lacked the energy or will to keep up such banter with him for longer than was absolutely necessary. So as he conceded to speak elsewhere, she nodded and took the lead...walking straight to the Halenani of all places. "Frey made every room of this place soundproof." she said as she led the way up the front steps and into the brothel. It was an immaculate establishment, airy and beautiful, despite the sordid activities that took place behind closed doors. And though certainly such things were actively in progress, true to her word, only the sound of the distant waves could be heard as the Madame led him up to her attic apartment.

Phoebe gestured to a chair at her dining table as she walked past it, choosing instead to lean against a counter. "So where do you want me to start?" she said, crossing her arms. He was the one who wanted information after all.

The apple into blossom burst
To life the grass and violets sprang

SUNJATA

the flood

you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face

A silent thank you prayer to Safrin goes up when she doesn’t respond to him, not until she’s leading him directly to the Halenani. There’s a part of him, apprehensive to enter with her, but he follows through anyway – face masked as they walk the halls until eventually there’s the stairs that lead up to her apartment. “It is a very Frey-like establishment.” He’ll give it that, with everything that goes on within the doors. “Must be nice for you to have the quiet while still being busy?” His head tilts toward her with that before the door to her home is open.

A slight duck under the frame and he’s within the room – scents of her that has been burned into his mind. He swallows hard, sitting down at the table and lets his gaze flicker toward where she leans against the counter. A small pad and writing utensil is fished out of a pocket, gaze slipping from her momentarily to title the paper so he won’t forget – a side effect recently of getting struck by lightning.

“I’ve got the names you put on the Notice Board. Preferably, I’d like to know what they’re here for?” His steel gaze flickers up to focus on her, dancing along long blonde hair before falling on her face.

by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it

Phoebe

the nightingale

The nightingale appear'd the first
And as her melody she sang

"I would hope so. Frey did build it and ask me to run it." she said with a shrug, doing her best to hide the 'no-shit-sherlock' tone from her voice. He knew she was friends with Frey. This was a brothel. Who else would have been able to build this place up from its sorry state as quickly as it had been? Some enforcer (or whatever his title was) he was if he couldn't piece that very obvious puzzle together. "The quiet wasn't intended for my benefit but for my customers and employees." she said simply.

Her head turned to look out the window. Rainclouds were already rolling in again. Fabulous. "They are gathering information, trying to prepare for a war against the Voice. At the moment they seem to be targeting those who are or who they think will become demigods." she said with a sigh, letting that bit sink in. "They are called the Order, and the place they are from is also the place the Voice originated from. The man I talked to was Cian, and frankly, he didn't seem crass enough to plan chopping up and Ascended and mailing the parts around." she said, shaking her head slowly.

"These people are the real deal, Jata. Not some murdererous Fae. They have the brains and the means to get what they want when they want it."

The apple into blossom burst
To life the grass and violets sprang

SUNJATA

the flood

you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face

He does make the connection – but it’s small talk he’s attempted to do, finding it harder and harder with how short she is with him. He understands why she is, too, but it still makes it difficult – a part of him regretting having stumbled across her and needing this information. But he sucks those thoughts down, the same with the deep inhale of breath. So he focuses on the paper, any and all of his attention flickering between it and her.

He remains silent while she speaks, mulling it over, chewing on the inside of his cheek before rubbing at the Ascended scars along his neck. She continues with her barbs at him, and he ignores them to the best of his ability, writing down a few of the tidbits she’d spoken of so that way he can reflect on it later when he’s less distracted by the conversation at hand. “I take it you don’t know the Fae very well if you don’t think they also have brains and means to accomplish what they want.” It’s a quiet mutter, but said all the same, before he goes to stand and lean against the table to face her.

“Based off the information, I’d say that it’s coincidence that these two are happening at the same time.” He offers with a quiet sigh. “We know it’s the Fae that’s going around and attacking the Ascended. If the Order is doing as you say it is, then that move of theirs wouldn’t be until far later if it even is one.” Not an initial blow at least.

Still, he can’t help the slight shudder that runs down his spine at the thought of a group of people with the know how coming after Nate.

by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it