(SE) we cannot save you

SUNJATA

the flood

The symptoms have become more regular – to the point that Sunjata’s not entirely sure what’s real and what’s not. And when it comes down to it, he hopes that whatever he does isn’t terrible. A few brief, fleeting moments of lucidity comes in the wake of days on days of nothing. It’s late at night when he remembers Safrin’s comment. A just in case for his wedding. To do it beforehand, because what if the illness he’s succumbing to takes him from it before he can say ’I do’.

So he takes what he thinks to be vivid purple and vibrant flowers, ones he’s found along the cliffs (or so he thinks), and slips out of the house to speak with her again. He feels worse than he did last time, shirtless and still a million degrees, he slips out the door of his home and heads toward the lighthouse with the ball of sunlight that swivels atop it.

He doesn’t quite go all the way up to the lighthouse, to the inside where the shrine sits. But he does essentially set up camp outside of it – placing those purple flowers along the edge of the lighthouse, quiet murmuring babbles left for Safrin before he sits against the stone and stares up at the flickering stars, wondering if the patterns are the same as the ones she’s bestowed upon him on his arms.

---

Open for anyone <3

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

saiden

Saiden didn't pray to Safrin all that much. However, he figured staying in the gods' good graces was probably for the best. So he'd picked up a nice little sparkly piece of jewelry, a gold bracelet set with opals that sparkled like the stars during the latest voyage of the Ark. Waiting until nightfall, he made his way to the lighthouse that housed her shrine.

Before he reached it, though, the sight of a shirtless Sunjata stopped the cook in his tracks. He grinned. "Well well well, if it isn't our Arbiter in the flesh." His gaze swept over the other man. "Quite a bit of it too. Not that I mind."

Whistling, the Hali spread his arms, showing off his own shirtless state. "Don't mind me. Just out for a little stroll and a quick prayer." He winked at Sunjata.

SUNJATA

the flood

He doesn’t notice Saiden at first – too engrossed in ensuring he can count all the stars in the sky. He can’t, but he tries anyway – reluctantly pulling his attention away from them to glance toward the cook as he approaches. It’s then that he realizes he’s not wearing a shirt, glancing down to a bare tattooed chest and pale streaks of the lightning scars that span his torso, as well as the still healing wound to his stomach.

His gaze flickers over the Hali once more before returning to the stars. “She’s not here.” He rumbles by his own greeting, reaching over to grab a purple flower he’d set along the edge of the lighthouse to fiddle with the petals. “You’re welcome to leave your gifts with mine.” His gaze slips away from the purple flower toward the other man again, a raise of a dark brow.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

saiden

Saiden grinned. Pointing first at the lighthouse shining above them and then gesturing at the night sky with its multitude of stars he chuckled. "Seems like she's with us plenty, in spirit at least." Looking down, he examined the flowers that Sunjata was playing with.

Arching an eyebrow, the cook cocked his head to one side. "Don't take this the wrong way, but why would I leave my offering with yours?" As he waited for the Arbiter's answer, the Hali fished in the pocket of his shorts. Pulling out a flask, he took a swig from it.

Then his eyes narrowed as they took in the other man's wound and the strange scars on his chest. Saiden took in the other signs that Sunjata was not well (the disheveled state, the excess of swear) and frowned. "You all right, mate?"

SUNJATA

the flood

He nods quietly – Safrin’s always there in spirit with him. There wasn’t a moment that went by where he didn’t feel close to his chosen goddess. And if he ever came close to forgetting? The starry tattoos on his arms that shift and twinkle as a reflection of the night sky was always there to remind him. So when Saiden speaks next, of why he’d leave his gifts with Sunjata’s, the Flood can’t help the slick smirk that crosses his face as he leans his head back to rest against the stone of the lighthouse, head tilting to look back at the cook. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m one of her chosen. Might have more of a chance.” A wiggle of his eyebrows is met with more amusement, a snicker slipping from his throat.

But the question of if he’s alright? Well that’s another situation. He takes a deep inhale, exhaling it sharply and loudly before he shrugs tattooed shoulders. “Everyone says I’m sick. Sometimes it feels like it sometimes it doesn’t. Don’t know.” Comes the next shrug, a shake of his head as his eyes slip shut from the starry skies above.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

saiden

"Uh huh." Saiden scratched the back of his head then grinned. "Well alright then. Always happy to avoid steps." Pulling out the bracelet, he placed with gingerly near the flowers and Sunjata. Stepping back, the cook cast his head back at the night sky. "Hope you like it, Safrin."

When the Arbiter revealed he was sick, the Hali's head swiveled to look at the other man. Taking another step back, Saiden frowned and crossed his arms. "Sick? Sick how?" He examined Sunjata from a distance, eyes sweeping over the sheen of sweat on the Arbiter's skin, the circles under the other man's eyes, and all the other telltale signs of illness.

SUNJATA

the flood

“She will.” Sunjata says from the place where his head rests against the stone of the lighthouse, eyes closed as if he can imagine himself swimming among the stars with her. But then he’s telling Saiden he’s sick, and he’s not sure why, but it slips from his mouth with a hint of indifference — until Saiden questions it and Sunjata can tell the cook has taken a step back away from him.

He takes a deep inhale as if he’s preparing to deluge a bunch of information onto the cook. But he clicks his tongue and his gaze slips open to find Saiden again. “Hallucinations, delirium, fever… Just to name a few.” His lips edge toward a frown, recalling the symptoms without it seeming any more real. Instead it feels like an excuse, Sunjata unable to remember anything from the past few weeks aside from a fleeting sense of fear and strength.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

saiden

Snorting, Saiden scratched the back of his head. "Sure. Because you're an expert on exactly what Safrin's likes and dislikes?" Chuckling, he arched an eyebrow at Sunjata. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Arbiter." The cook grinned.

It slipped away as the other man described his symptoms. As the Arbiter did, the Hali continued backing up, hands instinctively raised in front of him in a protective gesture. "That sounds serious. How long have you been sick?" He frowned, stopping a short distance away. "You know, for someone suffering from delirium and hallucinations you seem remarkably composed and coherent."

Slipping a flask from his pocket, he took a sip. Then he smirked. "I would offer you some, but no offense, I'm not gonna get close to you."

SUNJATA

the flood

“Not exactly. But we’re close.” He rumbles, his words ending on a brief moment of a purr before his demeanor changes again and he’s explaining his symptoms, remaining sat along the ground as he focuses his attention half at Saiden and half at the stars above. “A while.” He offers him, because he doesn’t know how long it’s been. “Start of the season maybe? That’s what Safrin said.” Taking a scarred hand he points upward toward the sky.

At the next comment though, he shrugs his shoulders indifferently. “Don't remember how or when I got here.” He says as if it explains everything. “Or sometimes why. Apparently I wander.” A forked tongue runs along his lower lip as he looks to Saiden and the flask, shaking his head.

He leans back against the stone, navy feathers filling out his shoulders to keep some of the warmth of his fevered skin inside, a shrug given to the subject of not wanting to get too close.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

saiden

Nodding, Saiden sipped from the flask again. Chuckling at Sunjata's self-confidence, the cook grinned. "Yeah? What'd you do to get in her good graces?" His eyes lingered on the Arbiter's tattoos for a moment.

Whistling, the Hali looked out at the horizon. "That long? That sucks." He scratched his belly. "How'd you get sick? Did something go around while we were out at sea?" Looking back at Sunjata, Saiden fell silent as he waited for the answer to that particular question.

Frowning, he glanced around. "Don't you live around here? I vaguely remember that." Arching an eyebrow, he shrugged. Eyes zeroing in on the tongue, he laughed. "Anything else I should know about the disease? I'm assuming that's an Attuned thing and not part of the illness." He gestured at the other man.

SUNJATA

the flood

“Asked her to attune me and she did.” He offers with ease, rolling feathered shoulders again. “And she gave me these not too long ago.” He gestures to the tattoos that span both arms, the starry swirls within spiraling waves tattooed from wrist to under his feathers.

As for how he got sick, he shakes his head. “Don’t know.” He had thought the lightning had gotten him, but he’s unsure. He doesn’t know whether or not that’s the cause anymore, not with so many others that were sick he hadn’t come into contact with. He mulls it over, chewing on the inside of his cheek a bit more before he goes to stand, leaning against the lighthouse for some semblance of support.

“What?” He asks, not realizing Saiden’s talking of his tongue. “No, I don’t really know much else either. Probably better off asking someone that isn’t sick. I’m not even sure you’re real.” And then he’s staring at Saiden with narrowed steel eyes, stomach and spine ravaged and riddled with scabs from wounds he doesn’t remember getting.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

saiden

Snorting, Saiden shook his head. "That sounds more like what she did for you." However, he shrugged and took another sip from his flask.

Sighing, he scratched the back of his head again. "Who else is sick? Did you all go to the same party or something?" Tapping his foot, he perused Sunjata as best the cook could given the space between the two men.

Chuckling, the Hali nodded. "Hard to argue with that logic. I'll go ask around I guess." He looked up at the stars once again. "Happy Longheat Safrin."

With that he glanced at the other man one last time. "Feel better Arbiter. You've got criminals to chase, after all." Smirking, Saiden winked. Then, humming a jaunty sea shanty, he turned to leave Sunjata behind to his illness.

SUNJATA

the flood

In reality, Sunjata had rebuilt a shrine for her, had given himself to her in so many ways – and yet it fails to come to mind. All he can really do is just shrug off what Saiden says. At least momentarily, until the cook is then asking about who else is sick, whether it was the same party, and Sunjata tries to filter his mind for the response he wants to give and yet finding nothing come to mind. “Maybe.” He murmurs, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before shaking his head in his uncertainty.

“Feel free to let me know what you find out.” It comes out sounding begrudging, and in a way – it is. Sunjata won’t remember this conversation, won’t remember what happens after if he doesn’t get better. But he glance to the sky one more time, putting the purple flower he’d cradled in his hand back along the edge of the stone of the lighthouse, nodding to Saiden as he moves to go take the path home by the governor’s house.

There’s a small wave granted to Saiden, sighing as he feels like the comment makes him like a dog of sorts, chasing after its own tail – especially in Torchline of all places.

- FIN

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?