little death inside my sides

// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //

Everyone gets settled in quickly enough, and if Sunjata’s prolonging the inevitable conversation, well… He is. The Flood steps around the edge of the small mini kitchenette, gesturing for Maea to sit on one of the couches, while he goes to pour himself something strong, because gods he’s going to need it. At least being home means he can shed the layers he’d worn in Halo, and he takes his time, prolonging it because he doesn’t entirely want to face it, along with everything else going on.

A lot has happened to him since she’d last seen him. Tattoos had been finished on his arm, that swirl with magical additions of stars in galaxies, there’s the raised bit of skin along his wrist, pale white against the bronze of his hand that tucks under the tattoo and re-emerges around his neck and it’s little electric fingers stretch out toward his heart. And of course, there’s the wing tattoos that adorn his shoulder, one with a burn scar that rushes through it, that has torn out some of the navy ink. Nate has changed too, the scar along his face, the switch of his one eye swapped for something greyer, something of steel.

It’s that gaze that he glances to for a moment, sucking in a breath despite the pain it brings in his jaw, before he goes and sits across from Maea on the other couch. “Where should we begin?” His tone shifts again, something more accented, more noble, while his gaze lifts to her pale face.

// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //

SUNJATA

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

The Slagveld had changed, since she last saw it. It should not have come as a surprise, considering that she had been gone - dead - for over a year but it shook Maea all the same. There was more than a slipshod boxing ring with sand and dust in the corners now. Rooms annexed the ring now. With couches and stocked bars - because of course there were, this was Sunjata's place after all - and a homely, well-worn feeling to it all that suggested much time was spent here.
She felt out of place as she curled up in her seat, as deeply tucked into the corner between armrest and back of the couch as she could get. Bare feet had been tucked in beneath the oversized skirt - gray and lumpy, too big but the best she'd been able to find in a hurry - and while the rest of her remained unnaturally still, fingers plucked nervously with frayed cuffs. Unlike Sunjata, she couldn't bring herself to look at either of them, but kept tracing the details of the room as though the walls were more prison bars than shelters against the elements. As though this hadn't been her own stupid idea.
When Sunjata finally spoke up she slowly drew in a deep breath - it still unnerved her how she kept forgetting to breathe, or rather forgot that she no longer had to go through the motion - and let it out in a sigh.
"I'm... not sure," she admitted quietly. "Maybe... tell me what I've missed? What's happened to you two, since I - died, she almost said, but quickly changed her mind - since last time we met? And if you have questions..." She could at least try to answer them.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine

Of course this has to happen now. Nate’s patience is stretched to an all time low, every part of him spread thin trying to maintain a face, a mask. Even now, there’s a grin spread over his lips, managing to almost, almost touch his eyes. While Sunjata strips away layers, Nate pours two more, less generous glasses and carries the trio to the sitting area, settling across from Maea as well and going still.

He studies the girl silently, or at least pints his face towards her and grows distant, leaving himself open to be looked at as well. It’s strange to think of how much living he’d done while she had been gone, how many changes have happened. Not the least of which are written directly on his face, the jagged scar crossing his features, and the mismatched eyes it separates, one a familiar electric blue, and the other steel grey.

Sunjata settling beside him seems to snap Nate back into the moment, his eyes fluttering in a blink and his face turning towards his husband. As long as he doesn’t need to start the conversation, words flow from him easily enough, a hand lifting to rub at his jaw. ”A lots happened since...” The h d on his face drops to Sunjata’s leg suddenly, squeezing at his knee too tightly to be an entirely relaxed gesture. ”We got married.” Rip that band aid off, and then breeze past it. Easy. ”Apopo erupted. Uh, Remi was Governor, now Sunny is. The house burnt down. I got fucked up.” The last point comes with a hiccup of laughter, the hand not wrapped tightly around the attuned’s knee lifting to gesture at his face, as if the scar could be missed.

It’s not everything, but Nate leaves out the fact that Sunjata had almost died more than once, leaves out the sickness and delirium’s and Ru. He’s trying to be kind, in his own way. ”Are you... is it strange to be back like this?”

i couldn't get the boy to kill me

but i wore his jacket for the longest time

NATE

// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //

He sits beside Nate, steel gaze focused on Maea while he tries to prolong everything. But his question is uttered, she’s already replying, and luckily for him Nate’s the one that picks up from there. It’s all he can do to keep from clenching his jaw. The hand on his leg grounds him, a tight squeeze that has his gaze pulling away from Maea to look back at Nate, swallowing hard as he recants a few of the things that have happened.

“There was… A new place that opened up, the Climb. Unleashed a sickness that ravaged everything, Ascended included, for most of Longheat. A Sea Panther arrived on shore not long before that.” His head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering back toward the Slagveld, carefully masking any thoughts that flicker inside his mind. “Pretty sure there’s a war coming.” This latter half comes with a shake of his head, a huff of unamused laughter, at the audacity of it all.

But he reaches up to run a hand through his dark hair, moving to rub at his temple when his gaze shifts back to her. “Do you… Remember much of it? The before and the after?” Comes the quieter question, the uncertainty warbling the sounds of his voice.

// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //

SUNJATA

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Thank the gods for Nate. Fuck Nate to all oblivion. Pale fingers stilled as he began to speak, and whatever superfluous imitations of biological functions she had been simulating ceased. Married. The volcano erupting, a war brewing. Battles fought, lands uncovered. The house had burned down. It was more akin to being clobbered in the head than having a bandaid ripped, and Maea didn't know what to do. Or say. The lack of physical reactions only left more room for her emotions to roil and seethe - jealousy, anger, relief, disappointment, hopes shattered and a soft, bittersweet, selfless something that was genuinely happy to see that neither of these broken men were entirely unhappy. If only she did not care so much about them - the man she loved, the other man she might have learned to love if things turned out differently - it would have been so much easier. Merely succumbing to anger and hate would have been such a relief.
But that wasn't her, it seemed. And so Maea was left with these conflicting thoughts, gaze lowered to the floor while she examined the shattered pieces of the future she had once dreamed of. Realizing, that there really was no salvaging it.
"I see," she eventually said. It felt inadequate. "I... well. Congratulations. I am happy for you." Not a lie. If only it could be a lie.
She forced herself to look up. To look at Nate properly, and really take in all the changes. Not only the physical but the deeper scars that showed through as their gazes met. There was fragility there that had not been before, and new strength. No doubt stemming from the hand on Sunjata's knee. There was something desperate about it, as if the Flood was an anchor preventing Nate from being swept away. Or maybe he simply wished to keep being swept along in the same direction? She could relate to that sentiment.
Turning finally to Sunjata, she had to smile a little. Despite everything - the bruises, the weariness in his entire being, despite how he really didn't seem thrilled to see her - it was good to be in his presence again.
"I remember everything from before," she told him softly. "After... is hazy, and fading quickly. I don't think Death is something the living should recall too clearly. It is too... pleasant a dream. I remember being happy. And being too restless to stay." A slight shrug of thin shoulders broke the stillness, as if to emphasise the point.
"It is strange. Yes. Both being back, and being so different. It will take some getting used to." Maea held upp a hand and examined it with a distant curiosity. Any scars or defects accrued over time was gone. Small imperfections smoothed over, callouses and wear erased. No, it was more accurate to say that they had never existed. This body, while it looked like hers, was a very good forgery. A new frame and chassis for an old engine. With a few tweaks.
"Did you... ever receive my message?" she asked, somewhat hesitant as she turned her attention back to Sunjata. "I asked her to leave some words..."

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine

There’s no response. Nate rambles out his list, keeps his face light, the grin in place, keeps the growl of stress and emotion out of his words, and there’s utterly no reaction. Sunjata adds a few more details here and there, bringing up the sickness Nate had left out, bringing up the Climb, the sea panther. He brings up the war, something that has Nate shifting, his boots scuffing against the floor as he straightens, throws a look over his shoulder at the door, had they locked it when they came in?

His head returns just in time to catch the full brunt of Maea’s words, the congratulations, hollow as they were. Thanks die on his lips. It just doesn’t feel right. As easy as it is to be so flippant in his mind, it feels like overkill, like gloating to acknowledge it so much. He meets her gaze as steadily as he can, utterly still, and wonders if there’s something he can do to ease this pain. For all of them.

It’s a moment that both lingers far beyond what it should, and that passes too quickly, Nate left grasping at unanswered questions. Something in his grin slants more towards sincerity, death, and coming back from it, flowing easier than conversation about changes, than trying to face this bitch of a situation. Maea’s words are a balm as well though. No matter what else happens, what brings about the end, what hells are survived, death is peaceful and comforting. For those who go to that realm at least.

”You’ll get used to it fast.” This is perhaps the one true reassurance Nate can pffer, the one part of all of this where he has experience. Save for the flashes that come at his lows, and the ache to be able to turn off, to wrap himself in the embrace of substances or sleep, ascension is easy. Comfortable. Safe, at least  to an extent, as he is well aware.”The Voice is kind like that.”

Of course, the moment of peace, of simplicity doesn’t last. Maea focuses back on Sunjata, and Nate follows her eyes. He softens for a breath, if that long, looking at his husband, and then freezes, the question sparking some deep seated, righteous anger. The grin drops away into a twist of tight lips and clenched teeth, Nate fighting himself to keep from twisting his face into a sneer, a snarl. All at once his head snaps back to lock on Maea, all the kindness, the consideration sapped away, replaced by a cold, almost animalistic stare. ”No.” Is his voice loud, or simply firm? Does it matter how n the moment? Does he care enough to stop? ”No, he didn’t.” He stops just short of saying it wasn’t worth it, that the price was too high for anyone to pay, but doesn’t. Sunjata doesn’t need him to fight his battles.

i couldn't get the boy to kill me

but i wore his jacket for the longest time

NATE

// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //

Where Nate’s thanks dies on his tongue, Sunjata dips his head a fraction, clearing his throat in a way that he hopes keeps the tightness from being heard when he speaks. “Thank you.” It falls somewhat flat, the awkwardness of all of it rounding back time and time again. For now, however, his question is aired alongside Nate’s and he finds himself craving another drink if only to warm him up from the cold anxieties inside him.

All he can do is nod as she explains what it was like, too, an understanding there that it wouldn’t feel like much and yet overwhelming all the same. He doesn’t know what it would be like for him, whether it would harbor those same warm memories and dreams or whether it would become a nightmare, from all the wrong he had done in his life.

He’s dragged out of the thoughts when Maea’s gaze lands on him and the question is aired, his gaze flickering over toward Nate at the sharpness in tone. And all he can do is look back to Maea with a humorless, bitter laugh as he shakes his head, reaching up to run a hand through his dark crop of hair, before his hand settles on his neck, covering a compass. “I tried to… She wouldn’t tell me unless I did some ritual to let go of Lusea.” His voice edges with that same sour tone, pausing just enough to chew on the inside of his cheek as his gaze lifts up to her. “Had all these herbs and incense and was told to completely forget her and let her go and then I could go back and hear them.”

And he hasn’t, because he isn’t ready. He doesn’t know if he ever would be.

“And then the volcano blew, life became more chaotic, we got sick and the house burned down with everything in it.” Tattooed shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, before his hand is dropping from his neck to reach for his glass and a bottle from the table beside him to pour it into. “Delphia and I argued over it. I doubt she’d even tell me now had I even completed it. What was it she called me, Nate? An incubus?”

// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //

SUNJATA

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

How stilted it sounded. Flat and hollow words exchanged, spoken through wooden masks of politeness. Why did it have to be like this? They were supposed to be friends. Had been, of a sort at least. Though as Maea thought back, in that brief instance where Nate's expression almost softened, almost warmed into something she remembered from before, she had to admit that it had always been tense between them all. Sunjata and her had argued more often than not, and she could never quite forget about the bitemarks that used to litter her lover's neck. Or indeed that one instance where she'd almost been caught between them. These relations had never been uncomplicated, and her dying and then suddenly returning to life hardly made it easier. For any of them.
"Thank you, Nate. I hope you are right. I've met the Voice a few times, and I have to admit that we've never quite gotten along... I suppose that's something that has to be addressed, sooner or later." But that was a worry for another time. Right now there were more immediate matters that needed to be addressed, and judging by Nate's snarling and Sunjata's bitter laugh it was one tangled mess in particular that hovered over them like a flying landshark. Appalled by what she heared, Maea closed her eyes, as if darkness might somehow lessen the shame and regret she felt. What an awful thing to do... so cruel. And it was all her fault.
"I am so sorry, Sunjata. That was not my wish. All I asked her to do was to leave a few words for the people that mattered most to me. You most of all. There were never any conditions on my part. I hope you can believe that." Though there was no heart in her chest to constrict anymore, the ache was real all the same. It shifted the mask of her features as she sought Sunjata's gaze, those familiar stormcloud eyes that had shaken her entire world. More than seeing him with someone else, it hurt to realize how much pain she had caused him. The one thing she had never wanted to do... and look at it now.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //

“I suppose now you have a reason to get along.” Sunjata interjects quietly, perhaps a bit solemnly, knowing that while Maea had been revived… Well, she relied on the Voice now. For the life brought back. But that’s neither entirely here nor there, not as Sunjata begins to explain why he had not received her last words. How he hadn’t been ready, how he thought it was awful and cruel that Delphia had expected that of him.

And to call him an incubus, when he’d already dealt with nearly every lover of his perishing? Well, that was just the cherry on top, wasn’t it? Muscles feather in his speckled jaw, drawing silent, swallowing hard against it now that he’s got it out in the open – something he’d blocked for some time, only having brought it up when he spiraled after Apopo blew and life had thoroughly smacked him in the face with terror and grief, how Delphia had gotten to him and he was terrified of doing it to Nate too.

So far, so good, however.

That is, until she closes her eyes, to hide away from him and Sunjata can’t help but to look away from her too – to look away from Nate, to let the memories of how he’d felt in that moment spur him on. “She conveniently left out any mention of me at all on the Notice Board.” He comments quietly, keeping his gaze away from her.

It takes some time for him to respond to her, pausing as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “I had thought it was your intention, for some time, to be honest.” He rubs at the lightning scars on his right hand. “Because of our argument.” This is quieter, as if he doesn’t entirely want to say it out loud. But he puffs out a long sigh, reaching up now to rub at his temple, to let his shadowed steel gaze slip back to her. “But I think it was likely Delphia’s way of trying to protect your memory. You were her friend, after all. And seeing as I had spoken with her about Lusea when I found out she died again… Well.” His shoulders shrug in uncertainty, at a loss.

// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //

SUNJATA

sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine

Nate nods his understanding, something wry entering his grin now. Another sentiment he’s deeply familiar with. How long had he waited to even see the Voice? When he’d first ascended? How angry had he been? How resistant to her words, her touch, to anything to do with her at all? And now look at him.

He doesn’t get the chance to put any of that good humour to words though, doesn’t get to share the reassurances he can. Anger is all consuming, burning away the pretence of polite conversation to focus solely on this slight. Nate seethes and roils, a storm growing in his chest, threatening to spill out of his mouth if not for Sunjata. If not for the fact that his words mean far less in this than his husbands do. It’s only when he’s asked something directly, when his name is called, that his unblinking stare is snapped away from Maea. ”Incubus is exactly it.” He growls, unbidden memories of a spiral, of tears that he hadn’t known how to deal with at the time rising up.

An apology colours the air, and Nate stands suddenly as it does, grabbing Sunjata’s empty glass and stalking back towards the small kitchenette to refill it with an unhealthy amount of whatevers been left open. Harder to explode if he’s focused on something else. Except, his plan doesn’t exactly work, silence stretching out for as long as he’s gone, only broken when he returns, and presses the full glass into Sunjata’s hand. Nate doesn’t sit again, hovering so close to his husband that their knees touch instead.

A hand moves to squeeze the attuned’s shoulder when he finally works through enough to force out words, fingers brushing against the constellations of scars littered over bronze skin.  ”If that’s the truth,” Nate’s voice is thick, accented, and sneering, his teeth gnashing around every word, ”then she fucked you over.” If it wasn’t Maea’s intention, a fact he doesn’t necessarily know if he trusts, considering what he’s been told of arguments and jealousy, it still didn’t change anything. Meddling fingers, sticking in where they have absolutely no business is a kinder tale to believe than an intentional knife in the heart, but it doesn’t heal the hurt, does it?

i couldn't get the boy to kill me

but i wore his jacket for the longest time

NATE

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

A leaden weight was eating its way through her stomach (or... well, figuratively, at least), and it was cold. Freezing, so much that it burned. Sunjata really thought she would do something like that? Something so cruel, so spiteful? Nate clearly did. The searing glare he leveled at her spoke volumes, and cut far deeper than any words he might have chosen.
She supposed she ought to be angry. But rather than anger, Delphia's actions mostly made her feel hurt. It was a betrayal of the trust she had put in the demigod, in the friend she thought she had found. The message had not been delivered.  Her final thoughts and wishes had not come across... rather it seemed that a slow poison had been planted into the minds of her friends that made the sentiments of her friends towards her fester and rot. And the pain it caused them... him. Sunjata. He thought she had left him out. Forgotten him.
Pale hands slowly balled into little fists around the rough fabric of her skirt, and Maea's lips thinned into a set line. Ah... No. She had been wrong. She was angry. Furious, even. It was so hard to tell, in this body where all the chemicals were different. Before, frost might have leaked into the air as magic reacted to her emotional state, but there was none of that now. Only a slight tingling in her hands, as static electricity crackled and popped across the skin.
"Do you have pen and paper?" she asked, a little too quietly. Perhaps it did not matter anymore. Perhaps it was already too late to mend the things that had been broken by Delphia's crude attempts at 'helping'. Maybe he wouldn't believe anything she said at this point... but she had to try. The very least she could do was to make sure that her words were delivered. In full, as intended.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //

Incubus was the term, confirmed again, and Sunjata’s jaw is clenching. He can feel the storm within Nate but there isn’t much he can do right now, not as he tries to explain what he had felt those weeks that followed. He leaves out the hurt, the bitterness, the anger, the subsequent spiral that Nate had helped him avoid from enacting time and time again. But there is surprise when Nate stands immediately, steps heading toward the kitchenette for a drink – thank the gods – his hand lifting to take the full glass, to sip from it as he paces himself from simply downing it completely like he wants to.

He looks up toward his husband as the hand squeezes his shoulder, as Nate speaks his anger, Sunjata can’t help but to send a bit of comfort down the bond. He was okay, now, and while it didn’t do well to dredge it all up and relive it, he appreciates the fact that Nate would fight for him – that he always had. He leans into the touch, his gaze flickering back toward Maea as she asks for a pen and paper. He swallows hard, nodding, his hand moving to wrap around Nate’s hip for a gentle squeeze. Sal jy? He asks through the bond, through the blood ring, before releasing Nate.

While he waits for the pen and paper, however, he turns his attention back to the drink in his hand, to the woman across from him – reborn only to find the world not the same, only to find that he wasn’t the same as she’d known. A lot of that was Nate’s help, the opening up and being less afraid of everything. “Jigano thought I had wronged you, too. Lead you down the wrong path.” A shoulder rises and falls in a shrug, a mirthless laugh leaving him. “Along with quite a few others… It was a long season or two after that.” He mulls it over, because he thinks that it’s important for him to say it, even if it comes out poorly timed. “Nate was everything to me.” Hopefully by now the Ascended has returned, enough so that Sunjata might be able to reach out and steal him back to his side.

Nate was the only one that kept Sunjata feeling strong, that acted like a barrier against his insecurities, his vulnerabilities. Because gods, it feels like they’re all piling on.

// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //

SUNJATA

sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine

It’s so easy to revel in his anger, when it feels so righteous. When he remembers cleaning up the aftermath, when he remembers those flashes of an entirely different life rising up in the heights of emotion. When he remembers the little picking comments from people who had only cared enough to judge, without stepping in. Not only anger through, every mounting frustration, every twist of guilt coils into this ugly thing splashed over his face, burning through his eyes, immune even to the peace Sunjata tries to press towards him.

His past has prepared him well, turning him to stone in the face of clenching hands, soft voices and remorse. Apparent remorse, some corner of him screams, all but frothing at the mouth and pushing him imperceptibly but uncomfortably towards a person he doesn’t want to be. Not over this at least.

Hips cant towards Sunjata, towards the touch, the ascended’s bi-toned gaze tearing away from Maea to drop his husband instead. Met pleasier, sonskyn. The silent words start out faux saccharine, Nate catching himself quickly and biting back some of his anger, some of his bitterness. It’s the situation, no matter how easy it is to lay everything on a single pair of shoulders and say fuck it and you.

Nate hurries up the stairs, taking the brief recess to pull a few calming breaths in, to reset his face into something more appropriately neutral. He’s somewhat successful, returning just in time to catch the tail ends of Sunjata’s words, and relaxed enough to hand the paper and pen to Maea, instead of dropping them on the table between them. Relaxed enough to sit back down beside Sunjata again, an arm thrown around his shoulder almost automatically.

i couldn't get the boy to kill me

but i wore his jacket for the longest time

NATE

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Jigano had said that? And Delphia had bullied him to this externt. Others... what others? What had they said? There was a very small, mean part of her mind that relished the support of so many even after she had passed away. A very selfish fragment of ego that wanted to swell and grow, spitefully ask whether Sunjata agreed with them - after so many had said the same thing, had he found any kernels of truth in their words?
But any time Maea touched upon those kinds of thoughts she wanted to writhe in shame over herself. That was disappointment speaking. And the slippery green tentacles writhing through her soul every time she saw Sunjata lean on Nate, or accept Nate's comforts. She was jealous.
And still angry. So he had 'led her down a wrong path', had he?
"They had no right to say that," she said quietly, as Nate went to fetch the writing utensils. "My choices were my own. I spent my time with you because I wanted to. Because I love you." Any pain she had experienced over that was no more or less than any other fool in love might feel. It was not right for outsiders to clank down on either of them, when they didn't actually know anything about the relationship they had shared.

Maea looked up when Nate returned with the paper, and nodded a quiet thanks. As he settled in beside her former lover, she began to write. The words flowed easily, burning brighter and clearer in her memory than anything else from the past. From the period in between. They had been weighing on her all this time, the reason why she could not rest in death.
It took only a minute before the finished and folded the paper over, once. Colorless fingers pushed the note across the table to Sunjata, and Maea sought to catch his eye before she relinquished it.
"This is for you. Whether you choose to share it with others or not is entirely up to you." Her eyes flickered briefly to Nate before focusing back on the Flood. "I have not changed a word from how it was meant to be delivered before. And as far as I'm concerned, it is all still true." For good or bad... some things just did not change, even if everything else did.

The message was short, and read:

"And finally...

Hello, Fishboy. Did you think I would forget you?

Sunjata. My love. My Sunshine. There will never be enough words to tell you all that's in my heart. Just know that I don't regret a single moment I spent with you. All the good and all the bad, it was all beautiful, and I was never happier than when I was with you.

My one regret is that I could not stay with you, even though I promised you to always be there. Thank you, for showing me what it means to love, and to be brave enough to try, even when the whole world seems bent on taking everything away. Keep searching for that future, for a dream that is only yours. I will wait for you, until the end comes and we can be together again. But don't rush; life is made to be -lived- just like you taught me.

In the end, my favorite color was always you."

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh