wear the moon like a halo

SUNJATA

the flood

feeling alive while you fight for your life
as you swim back to the beaches

He’s gotten very good at leaving notes for Nate. This time, it’s slightly different, an offering to go help board up the clinic for when the monsoons hit – just to ensure that the place where people may go to get healed from injuries sustained, wasn’t destroyed in the storms as well. So he’s packed up a few things, headed to the clinic, and got to work.

He’s brought wood planks with him, a hammer and nails, as well as the wheelbarrow of sand and bags from his house, choosing to focus on boarding up the windows first. It should be the easiest part, after all. One board is held up, nails between his teeth, pulling one by one out from between them so that he can nail the board into place.

And then he moves onto the next board, and then the next, between a partially cloudy sky that seems both moody in parts and clear and sunny in others. It beats down on the streets of Haulani, leaving behind a mix of emotions – one that’s quite familiar to how he’s feeling right now.

But this? This was good. This helped his husband, it helped try to repair the relationship between them, an unprompted offering of help where he could.

don't be scared of the tide, just prepare for the ride
as you float, you float, you float

Maeve

Her steps are light as she makes her way towards the clinic in search of the resident doctor. Maeve hasn't met Nate, but she's heard of him and his abilities as a physician. One of the girls has come down with a particularly nasty bug, but Maeve wasn't sure of what to use to treat her besides something for general fever and nausea. She was hoping that Nate might have a better answer for her. Which is why she is surprised when she approaches the clinic and finds the governor. Her steps slow and her stomach twists nervously. It's been a couple of weeks since their encounter at the cathedral, but the interaction still pops up in her head occasionally and she's not really sure what to do with that.

Maeve's steps slow as she approaches the clinic, watching him hammer away at the boards he lines up on the windows with ease. Her own attempts at the same task hadn't gone smoothly until she had help from Melita, but Sunjata made it seem like nothing. He easily balances the boards, hammer, and screws he's using as if it's nothing to do so. She chews on her bottom lip, debating just turning around and just coming back later, but she's not a coward. So Maeve takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders and lifts her chin as she takes the final steps towards the clinic. "Well well well… It seems the governor does know how to work." She drawls, that same teasing smile he became familiar with the night they met playing on her lips.

These violent delights
Have violent ends

SUNJATA

the flood

feeling alive while you fight for your life
as you swim back to the beaches

One board goes up, nailed down, followed by another. He’s almost blissfully unaware of what goes on around him, almost of course, given the fact that he’s too focused on ensuring someone doesn’t come up and stab him in the back. I suppose you could say he’s a bit on edge and aiming to throw himself into his work. Regardless, he does notice as someone’s steps slow, as they falter ever so slightly, but he focuses instead on hammering that next board into place, before he withdraws to grab more nails and the last board for the window.

His gaze casts over to Maeve – it’s different this time, not as dark as it had been the night they’d met. No, this time it’s brighter given the light outside, melding into he storm clouds as they approach,  exhausted as evident from where the bags sit under them. Her voice settles on him and the smile he offers her is small as he shrugs his broad tattooed shoulders. “I do a surprising amount of work. Whether or not you all believe it is another story.” He offers her, a roundabout way of greeting her, before he’s sticking another four nails between his teeth, grabbing another board to place. “What brings you this way, Maeve?” He says around the nails, warped in both the accent and the items between his teeth.

He can guess a few reasons why, but he’s curious as to what she says.

don't be scared of the tide, just prepare for the ride
as you float, you float, you float

Maeve

Maeve takes the last few steps forward to join him on the porch, coming to lean against the wall opposite of him to stay out of his way. Her eyes run over his form and she takes just a moment to look at him. It had been dark when they met and now she's able to properly appreciate him. Maeve hums in response, crossing her arms over her chest as her hip cocks out to the side. "You all? Now that isn't fair, dear Flood. I thought we already established that I'm not apart of that mob." She pouts only for a moment, putting on a show of being put out by the insinuation. Maeve really wasn't in that group. When the mob formed she had stayed far away from all of it, not wanting to get caught up in that mess. Especially since she never did believe all the rumors circling about him.

"I was actually looking for the doctor. One of my girls is feeling rather ill and I don't have what I need to treat her besides something for the fever and nausea. I'm not sure what's wrong exactly." At least she was able to count out pregnancy in this particular case. She had just finished her monthlies before the symptoms started. Maeve was admittedly relieved that it wasn't another child. The decision was never an easy one of the girls to make. Especially when it was so hard to determine the father given their line of work. "He was also supposed to make another batch of contraceptives for us. He's not around is he?"

These violent delights
Have violent ends

SUNJATA

the flood

feeling alive while you fight for your life
as you swim back to the beaches

She approaches and leans against the wall while he continues to work, hammering another nail into place. “Don’t have to be a part of the mob and still think I’m not doing enough.” He challenges back easily, a bit spicier and degrading to himself given the air and recent events closer to home. But he tries to busy himself away from those thoughts, hammering the third nail in when her explanation comes and the nail bends with the distraction of it. He recovers well enough, a quiet admitted ‘fuck’ and begins to use the hammer to bend the nail back.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He offers her, about the one who’s sick, and when he finally places the last nail in and moves to pick up his boards to head to the next window, he pauses with them within his arms, peering at her through the cloud cast light. “He’s not in at the moment but I’m sure he’s made them. Whomever is in there might be able to suggest something to help as well.” He offers her – unsure if it’s Vai within or someone else they’d taught to pick up the slack given the never ending drama of their lives.

He grabs the bag with the nails, moving to step past her to her other side where another window sat – leaning up four of the boards and pulls out more nails. “If nothing else, he shouldn’t be gone for too long.” He hopes, though he doesn’t know entirely what Nate’s plans are. They haven’t quite gotten to that point yet so far.

don't be scared of the tide, just prepare for the ride
as you float, you float, you float

Maeve

Well then. Someone was in a fucking mood. Her lips press into a thin line and that smile that had been playing so happily on her lips fades. "Jata, I have no judgement to pass on your work ethic. It was a joke." Maeve huffs, shaking her head as her eyes drop to her feet for a moment. Clearly things hadn't gotten better in the time since they last spoke. If anything, Maeve thinks they might have gotten worse. Not that she's going to push his buttons by asking. Especially when he has a hammer in his grasp.

"It happens with the change in seasons. So much pollen from everything blooming. I'm sure it's nothing." Her bottom lips finds its way between her teeth as he informs her that Nate isn't in. "I see... I guess it wouldn't hurt to check." She offers, eyes slipping towards the door for any sign of movement inside. Not seeing any, but unable to really determine if it was left unattended, Maeve heads inside. Thankfully there is someone to help her and soon her small basket is loaded with her order. It's maybe ten minutes or so before she steps back outside. He's still hammering away at the boards, jaw set firmly.

She hesitates, setting her basket down by the steps, "Would you like some help? I'm not the best with tools, but I can hold things in place if you'd like an extra set of hands." Maeve almost expects him to turn her down given the mood he's in. She's not even sure he's happy to see her again so soon. Part of her thinks he isn't.

These violent delights
Have violent ends

SUNJATA

the flood

feeling alive while you fight for your life
as you swim back to the beaches

Her huff has him attempting to bite down on the sharpness of his tongue, working his jaw in a slow grind as he continues to put the boards up. “Sorry.” It’s a quiet offering, though he doesn’t look at her. He’s just tired. The mention of the change in seasons, however, has him nodding, searching for any other bit of conversation to latch onto. “Allergies, I imagine.” It’s a quiet suggestion, a roll of his shoulder as he hammers yet another board into place. “I get them around Leafchange.” Something about the air here made it somewhat difficult to manage in the darker, cloudy skies.

But she departs anyway, checking in on the clinic and getting what she needs, and by the time she’s finished, he’s managed to get the next window done. Only a few more to go, he thinks, as well as the sandbags waiting to be filled. But she arrives, setting the basket down as she hesitates and offers her help, and honestly? It would make it go faster, might be a good distraction from the inevitable that he has to come to terms with, the fact that he’s about to be a father and it’s nearly destroyed his marriage.

But they’re working on it, and the more he thinks on it the more he thinks that he doesn’t deserve the offer that Nate’s given out to help try.

So he swallows hard, casting his tired glance back to her before he nods. “You can hold the bag of nails if you want. Keeps me from accidentally fucking up my mouth more than it already is.” He waves a hand to his ruined cheek as if for emphasis. But he reaches down to grab the bag of nails and hands it to her, before he moves to the next board. “Did you get what you needed?”

don't be scared of the tide, just prepare for the ride
as you float, you float, you float

Maeve

A brief flash of surprise flits across her features when he accepts the help and she takes the bag of nails from him. "Oh? You don't want to put a hole through your cheek?" Maeve asks with an arched brow, a playful edge to her voice as she regards him. She holds onto the bag of nails, passing him the first one as he lifts the board for the next window. Maeve nods slowly, "I think so. Hopefully it'll help. She's rather miserable." Plus it runs the risk of making the other girls sick and that really isn't something she wants to deal with.

Her brows pinch together as she studies his face, noting the dark bags under his eyes and the clear clench in his jaw. Part of her wants to ask if he's okay. If he's getting enough rest. Except she is not his keeper and he has other people to worry about him. They barely know one another despite the intimate conversation they shared at the cathedral. Maeve can't even imagine the shit he's dealing with. Especially when she tries so hard herself to avoid getting tangled up in those types of things.

Maeve is quiet for a little bit at he works on nailing the boards in before she finally speaks up, "I, uhm, I have this really good tea that helps me sleep. It has some herbs in it that make you drowsy. If you wanted I could bring you some..." It feels stupid to offer. Given that his husband is literally a doctor and probably has plenty of things he could give him to help him sleep. Her tea probably pales in comparison, but she offers anyway because it's hard to miss the dark circles under his eyes. Especially when she has similar ones under her own.

These violent delights
Have violent ends

SUNJATA

the flood

feeling alive while you fight for your life
as you swim back to the beaches

“Not particularly.” He murmurs back to her playfulness, unable to find it in him to play along. So he takes a nail, sets up the board and begins to hammer away at it again. He takes another from her and continues until that board is in place, blocking a quarter of the window as he picks up another piece of the lumber. There’s a low hum that leaves his throat, a nod of agreement that comes with how miserable the girl is, something Sunjata can understand perhaps a bit too intimately.

She studies him and he can feel that she does, but he makes no move to do anything else. His fire is dimmed today, in the form of no partial shifts, nothing but tattooed skin covered and marred in large scars of fights and scuffles, as well as the tinier silvery sheen of Ascended bites that litter his neck. There is a small shine of sweat that accompanies bronze skin from his work, but it does nothing but darken the shirt he wears in places. Aside from that? He’s focused on his work, on the idle chatter that distracts him from everything else.

She mentions sleeping herbs to blend with tea, and he’s immediately shaking his head no to her – already has he taken too much of something like that, too much of an accidental version that had drugged him for the better half of a season. “No, I’m okay, thanks though.” It comes out stilted and awkward as he stares through the board as if he might be able to set it ablaze with his gaze. “Nate’s got some stuff for it. It’s been a problem for a while now it’s just gotten a bit worse as of late.” A tidbit of honesty before he’s hammering down another nail and turning to look back at her, flashing a small apologetic smile. “It’s been a tough week, that's all.”

don't be scared of the tide, just prepare for the ride
as you float, you float, you float

Maeve

He doesn't snap at her, but he does turn down her offer. Of course he does because he's a fucking doctor and she's just... Maeve pushes the thought away, pursing her lips and cursing the way her cheeks flush as she looks down to avoid his gaze. Why was this so hard for her? How is it that she works with people all day and yet she can't even have a simple conversation with him? Maybe because the people she works with actually want her company and Sunjata is merely putting up with it.

"I'm sorry..." It's all she really offers as she passes him another nail, watching as he presses it to the wood and hammers away until it's flush with the surface of the board. Maeve isn't sure what else to even say to him. What words could she possibly offer? Especially when he seems so intent on his work and ignoring the things around him. She draws in a breath, glancing out at the clouds that were already growing so dark and brooding on the horizon. The monsoons would be on them soon and every time she was reminded of that her anxiety ratchets up just a little higher.

Her feet shift and her hands tighten on the bag of nails, bottom lip back between her teeth even as her brows pinch together. Her eyes still trained on the horizon as she passes him nail after nail when she catches the movement of his hand from the corner of her eye.

These violent delights
Have violent ends

SUNJATA

the flood

feeling alive while you fight for your life
as you swim back to the beaches

He isn’t making it easy. He knows this.  He also knows that he should be better about it, should at least be able to try, but even then he thinks he’ll go about it the wrong way. So he’s silent for a bit longer, as silence draws over them and it stops working for him – the silence, the being left alone with his thoughts, and it isn’t until he’s done with that followed up window, taking nails from her while she settles there in silence and yet still helping because he’d asked.

He gathers the left-over lumber in a pile, before he moves to stand before her and take the bag of nails from her hand, his gaze scanning her face with a hint of an apology within them at how difficult he’s being right now. “I’m going to be a father.” He says quietly, for her ears only – hoping that her ability of keeping secrets also applies here rather than just the bedroom or rendezvous on beaches.

“It’s mine and Safrin’s.” He tacks on after, in case there’s any confusion – but the glimmer of happiness that should be in his eye is filled with wariness, exhaustion. He should be excited and yet… Well, everything was falling apart. “So things have been a little difficult.” Little is absolutely an understatement, but he shrugs his shoulders regardless and moves to go place the bag of nails with the lumber to be taken back later after the sandbags are made.

don't be scared of the tide, just prepare for the ride
as you float, you float, you float

Maeve

Maeve doesn't mind silence all that much. There is something peaceful about it. Except how can it be peaceful when you're left with your thoughts? Not that she knows his thoughts, but she recognizes the look of someone lost in their head. With thoughts too loud and too pressing to ignore. He looks so tired. Haggard, worn, and weary. Not like he did that night they met. He was tired then, too. Except this is something more than physical strain and exhaustion. She's trying to find the words to offer him, but there isn't anything to say. Not that she think she can actually help him. Maeve is still considering this when he suddenly stops hammering. They're done with the windows and he finally looks at her.

She can see the apology in his eyes. The words 'I'm sorry' swirling in that steel blue of his irises and she's already accepted because she knows things are hard. Maeve doesn't want to be another hard thing in his life. Not that she's actually a part of it, but before that thought can go much further he speaks and she blinks. Oh. Oh. That was news she wasn't expecting. A child is one thing, but a child who is born by a god. Still, she understands that stress. So as he takes the nails, Maeve reaches out to catch his hand, "I'm sure. I can't imagine... Do- Do you want it?" It might be wrong for her to ask, but the words are already out there.

Her lips press together and she shakes her head, "You don't have to answer that. Sorry. I won't tell anyone. Just so you know... I'm not in the business of sharing secrets. Especially not secrets of people I actually kind of like." There isn't any teasing to be found in her words as she holds his gaze, stepping close enough that her voice doesn't carry as she speaks. Maeve gives his hand another squeeze before she lets him go because she's not sure if he actually wants her to touch him.

These violent delights
Have violent ends

SUNJATA

the flood

feeling alive while you fight for your life
as you swim back to the beaches

The realization hits and Sunjata’s preparing to grab the bag and step away when she grabs his hand. It stills him, and he finds his gaze watching her with that same exhaustion, a brief glimmer of confusion as for why she had captured his attention. He chews on the inside of his ruined cheek when she speaks, but before he can summon the courage to answer it, she’s stepping closer, confirming that she’d keep those secrets, and Sunjata nods to her when she moves to step away and release him.

He places the bag of nails with the boards, stepping over to the bags with the wheelbarrow of sand. “I think so.” He finally answers her initial question, his eyes trained on the bags he opens and preps, his hand reaching for the shovel soon after to stick it in the wheelbarrow of sand so he doesn’t lose it. “It’s… Difficult for me to want children. In Korofi it was like a death sentence, specifically for those with blood like mine.” He shrugs his shoulders before he’s handing her the empty bag to hold open so he can start to fill it.

“My girl and I had a pact back then that we’d never have them. And, well, Nate wants kids, but this isn’t at all how we’d expected it to go.” His lips purse together. “So, long story short, I fucked up and got in too deep and there isn’t any going back now.” He specifically focuses on the bag, on the sand, anywhere but her and her face as the words tumble from his lips.

don't be scared of the tide, just prepare for the ride
as you float, you float, you float

Maeve

He seems to take her word and she's glad for it. Maeve means it. She isn't a liar by nature. It just isn't in her to be that way. Something she's sure will be a problem later, but it hasn't hurt her yet. Maeve lets him go, trailing behind him towards the wheelbarrow and pile of sandbags he has to be filled. She understands that having a child is a lot. A whole new life that you're in charge of shaping in molding can be intimidating. That's without the worry of a war or anything else. A household divided by the gods. Maeve doesn't envy him; even though she wants a family, a lover, a house, and a home.  

"Blood like yours?" She's not sure what he means, having never heard of the place he's from. Maeve understands. At least a little bit. A pregnancy in her line of work could be life ruining. Unable to work, an absent father, no where to live. Not that Phoebe or she would ever throw out one of their girls, but it wasn't ideal. Maeve takes the bag, holding it open for him as she kneels by the wheelbarrow, knowing the weight of it will be too much for her too hold up long.

Maeve lets out a breath, pursing her own lips as she watches the sand pile into the bag, "I know it isn't ideal, but... but maybe it can be good?" It sounds stupid and she hates that she's saying it. Maeve seals the bag once it's full, moving it with a bit of effort into another pile before opening the next one. "I hope it works out and I hope that your people can be there for you. That Safrin holds up whatever deal she made with you because I don't think you just did this for nothing. Not based on what you said." She doesn't try to find his eyes because she's pretty sure he can't look at her anyway.

She looks down, chewing on her bottom lip as her brows knit together and she really doesn't know if she should speak again. The words tumble out of her anyway. "I'm going to be honest, Jata. The gods scare the shit out of me. I haven't prayed to them since I was a child. I've not been to a shrine. I've never left gifts. None of it. I don't understand it, to be frank. Maybe because I've never had a prayer answered. Maybe because I'm pretty sure they don't fucking care that I exist." Maeve pauses, drawing in a sharp breath as she tries to calm her racing heart. It's the most she's ever said about her beliefs to someone and the nervousness in her belly threatens to make her sick. "But I do hope it works out for you. Really. You... You don't deserve all the bad you've gotten. At least not in my eyes."

These violent delights
Have violent ends