getting under my skin

SUNJATA

the flood

i'll use you as a warning sign
that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

He mulls over the words that leave Deimos’ lips, sucking in a sharp breath. He’s never met Ludo aside from what he’s seen of the god — along Torchline’s shores. But he does think of Melita, of her devotion to the god, and wonders quietly if his niece might be tasked with the same. And if so? What then?

He doesn’t think Melita would do it, but it still sits low in his gut regardless. “Is it possible Ludo set her free just before LongNight fell?” He murmurs quietly, thoughtfully, before letting those thoughts die with the rest of them. “Of course she did. When I was with Phoebe I was pretty sure Roana wanted to murder me too.” A hum of amusement leaves his throat before he’s shaking his head, continuing on the walk, drifting a bit further in a different direction from acting like a lost dog behind the General.

“I’m wondering if it’s better to hope to live through them, or if surviving the consequences would be worse.” He doesn’t know what to expect, that much has always been clear since he’d fallen in.

and i'll use you as a focal point
so i don't lose sight of what i want

death, you bring death and destruction to all that you touch

“Perhaps.” But he had no way of knowing: an explanation for the moments following, for the surprise, the shock, when Roana had marched in, wounded and damaged and soon dead. Weren’t there a number of inhabitants capable of calling, summoning, the gods, the heralds, to their methods and means? Knowing Roana as much as he had, she’d been a fighter, wouldn’t have remained walled up in the prison for long. He hadn’t put her in the specially designed cell. She didn’t have magic to bend the bars. Something had occurred, but any investigation towards the mystery had been thrown by the wayside in the events immediately after, LongNight stretching its first gnarled hand into the doomed Monster Hunter’s Guild.

He made no comment about Phoebe; that damned and doomed marriage lingering further down the reaches of his spine as he thought of his own, swallowing down another drowning contortion. “Sometimes hope is the only means to survival.” Glimmers of moments they could scarcely, hardly reach; A strange statement for a beast like him, for a monolith who endured, endured, endured, but he didn’t have much else nowadays – the wedding gift of faith still tucked in his pocket, unseen but felt regardless, in the course of hazes and hell. A little smirk curled thereafter, as he broke another branch, placing it amongst his brethren; kindling, something in the future to set aflame. “Or we dig in, no matter what happens.”

DEIMOS

SUNJATA

the flood

i'll use you as a warning sign
that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

There’s no way to know what befell the prison before Roana’s escape, before her appearing at the Monster Hunter’s Guild. It feels like an eternity ago, before he’d known Ronin, before he’d struck disaster and lost Lusea a second time. In some ways it was a lifetime ago, in others it was just two years prior. Time was a finicky, weird thing in Caido that Sunjata hardly had a grasp on.

He inclines his head to what Deimos says, mulling it over as he considers what other meanings it might have. Sunjata was far more of a fighter than he was optimistic, a life thrown into fight after fight seemed to make quite a pessimistic person. So all he can do is nod to that, shifting a small amount to look back at Deimos before he walks back to Zuriel to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. “I think I’m going to have to dig in.” He admits, tapping his scarred hands fingers along the edge of the bag. “Are you?”

and i'll use you as a focal point
so i don't lose sight of what i want

death, you bring death and destruction to all that you touch

Endure, persevere, steadfastly raise his head against the world, against the void, conquer, and fight – it’d been his mantra, his sticking point, for so long that he hardly knew anything else.

Except for drowning in despair, except for clawing his way to the surface time after time after time.

Except for living and breathing in exhaustion, for surviving when the pressure was too great and the world too overwhelming, and all he did was yearn to break apart, be left aside. Someone else’s turn to suffer and surge.

His eyes roamed to where Sunjata lingered, where the unicorn had finished the last of her apples and went to nip at the bag, searching for more. “Yes. It just gets more difficult each time.” And the Flood would know, would understand, would comprehend those matters, considering the amount of trials and tribulations he’d found himself stuck, mired, and rooted within. How, with each passing circumstance, the roads looked less and less familiar, how it took far more effort to breathe, to exist, to stay. "How is Ru?"

The Sword clenched his jaw, extended another sigh. “Let me know if you need any more information, or assistance.” He didn’t know what else he could do, but it’d keep his mind, his soul, occupied, instead of waiting for oblivion.

DEIMOS

SUNJATA

the flood

i'll use you as a warning sign
that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

Zuriel moves to inspect the bag and Sunjata finds a soft smile crossing his face at the act, shuffling through the bag to produce a carrot for her as well. He doesn’t look back at the Sword, no, the Flood instead focuses on the words, his gaze staring at Zuriel, at that horn that had healed him time and time again. And he reaches up, aiming to scratch at her forehead, around the horn that sprouts and maybe behind the ears should she let him, while he considers Deimos’ words. “Yes it does.” A sigh of agreement, of being torn apart and put back again only to be torn apart again.

How is Ru? That’s a question he knows he should be expecting, but he isn’t entirely. So he rummages through the bag again to produce another treat for the unicorn, handing it toward her with that very same scarred hand. “She’s doing as well as she can given the circumstances.” He offers. A lot like Deimos in that way, where you became strong because people needed you to be, only to fall apart and crumble where nobody can see.

“I’ll let you know. Likewise, on the help or informational front.” His head lifts then, glancing over toward Deimos as he closes his bag for good this time, mentally preparing himself to head back toward home if only to curl up in a similar ball to break apart in.

and i'll use you as a focal point
so i don't lose sight of what i want

death, you bring death and destruction to all that you touch

Ordinarily, Zuriel might not have permitted such actions from someone of Sunjata’s ilk; but then again, she’d already been persuaded by food once, and the disloyalty was forgotten in the midst of soothing scratches, tilting her head while she chomped on the carrot.

The Sword stepped away from the pile of wood he’d lacquered and enameled, more work for another day, another time, when the cold seeped into bones, and maybe when the house didn’t feel so empty, vast, and desolate. Maybe when time hadn’t so blatantly beaten its marks and wounds into them. Maybe when he’d figured out what he was supposed to be doing with this life.

The response was understood; Ru would be aching, just like him. They were similar, which was likely how they’d once reigned well together – but it meant they broke along same angles and tides, crushed by blow after blow after blow. “I can come visit, when she is ready.” Before the wedding, before more alterations and changes. The only ones left from their family unit - once so strong, once so stable.

He could see Sunjata intending to depart, and the General saw no need to keep him there. There were too many other things to do, conduct, and gather. He lifted a hand, it might’ve, could’ve, been a wave. “Thank you.”

Then they’d segment back to their own trials and tribulations, wherever the earth and wind might carry them.

{FIN}

DEIMOS