out of the fire again, but i'm an ember

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

It’s the day before he has to go and check on damages around Torchline from the monsoons hitting. For now, however, it’s simply him, Kamaria, the kittens and Haai who grace the space – the latter four are racing around the living room while Sunjata downs his coffee, has his cigarette, tries to get into some sort of a routine. A sweater is worn despite the fire in the fireplace, something soft and easy to throw on, and he’s pulled out a few ingredients to try and cook something – scanning over Nate’s notes left behind as if it might hold some sort of idea what the fuck he should be doing.

It doesn’t, half of it doesn’t make sense, so he abandons that project in order to wake up his daughter. The stairs are an easy trek, as is finding her room – and when he opens the door, he finds her passed out just as hard as Sunjata wishes he could ever sleep. But the grey, watery sunlight filters in through the windows of her room, the seashells reflecting it around as if it dotted starlight in the morning, and Sunjata makes his way to the foot of her bed.

He sits as lightly as he can, his hand coming up to gently run along her back in a kind attempt of waking her up. “Kamaria… It's time to wake up.” He nearly croons to her, his accented voice gentle and light, hoping that it’s hushed enough to not frighten her awake. “Good morning, Ria.” He offers after another moment, watching her and waiting for those bright green eyes to open.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

Kamaria is in a deep slumber, with the blanket drawn tightly around her, tiny fingers clutching at one of the silver stars. Her face twitches when she senses someone's arrival and she wakes, but she does not open her eyes yet. No, she's not ready to trade the warmth of her cocoon for the morning chill, even if the sun shines through her window and attempts to beckon her out.

It's only when Sunjata places a gentled hand on her back to try and rouse her that she pokes her face up above the edge of the blanket. Only one sea-green eye opens lazily to look up at him, resisting the swell of happiness at seeing his warm expression. "Nnno," she pouts, tugging the blanket back over. She burrows deeper into her bed, into the soft fuzziness of its comforts, and makes a vague sound of protest. "Don't wanna. Too early," are muffled words given to her pillow.

She sneaks a smiling look back at him, though, wondering... tempted to see what he might have planned for the day. More seashell gathering? More friends to meet? Or.. something different, perhaps? Different is good, different is new and exciting.

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

Kamaria’s face pokes up from the blanket, peering at him before she’s rejecting his request, and he can’t help the soft laugh that leaves him under the realization that they are quite similar in that regard (on those rare days Sunjata managed to get good sleep). So he mocks some feigned surprise, his head tilting as he squints to the window, brows furrowed before he gasps slightly. “Oh. Is it?” His gaze slips back to her with an amused smile.

“And here I was thinking that we could try to make breakfast.” He croons, running his hand along her back a bit more as if for an additional prompt for her to get more awake. “Then maybe… We could play a game?” He suggests with a playful raise of his brow, offering a bright and surprisingly gentle smile to his daughter before he’s withdrawing and moving to stand, to stretch. “But I suppose I could let you sleep a little bit more.” He wonders if this is prompting enough to get her to sit up more fully.

The prospect of cooking and games would certainly have been enough for Sunjata in his youth, mostly given the fact he didn’t have any of those experiences back then.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

Kamaria hears the word breakfast and... okay, she's a little interested, pulling more out of the covers to look at him better. She watches his brow raise playfully as he mentions a 'game'. Her gaze sparks out of sleep and into light. She pushes herself up, slowly, her body hasn't quite caught up with her mind yet.

"No!" She protests quite suddenly at his offer of giving her more sleep, grabbing his hand as she pushes herself out from the bed. Her pajama pants slink around her as she bumbles into wakefulness.

"What we gonna make for breakfast?" She asks, expectant as she twirls to look up at him. "Pancakes?" That's what he likes, after all, and because of that so does she. "I looove pancakes!"

Something does occur to her to ask, though, and her happy expression dims a little. She steps closer to him and tilts her head. "Is Nate back yet?"

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

The protest has an actual grin spreading across the Flood’s face. She grabs his hand and he helps her off the bed. He guides her over to the dresser that’s within the room, using his freehand to fiddle in a drawer for some new clothes for her before he’s kneeling to help her get dressed for the day. “I was thinking exactly that.” He chimes, flashing her a playful grin. Once she’s sorted and dressed, he gives her a soft squeeze of her hand, trying not to let her innocent question pierce him from within.

“No, Nate’s not back yet.” He says softly, but with surprising ease – not wanting to worry her. “It’s quite stormy outside, though, so I imagine he won’t come back during them.” He assures her with a quiet hum, moving to pick her up so they can go downstairs. Once they’re there, he sets her down on the counter – on the island, actually, because nobody was around to tell him he couldn’t, plus it would give her ample time to poke and prod at the ingredients some – and it’s a decent amount away from the stove.

He ensures she’s safe up there, to keep her from falling, before he’s grabbing the ingredients to start. “How did you sleep?” He asks as he turns back to her, prodding her stomach with a little wooden spoon and a softer smile.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

Her hand softens around his and she leans into his supportive presence, pouting in disappointment when he says that Nate isn't back yet- won't be until after the storms are over. She glances towards the window, to the sun that shines in, and it's only now that she can hear the heavy drizzle from outside.

He scoops her up into his arms and she sighs, hugging around his shoulder to rest her chin there, finding comfort to ease her worry about Nate - wherever he is, she hopes he's getting better.

Sunjata sets her on the island of the kitchen and she settles in on it, peering down at the ground as her ankles hang over the edge. She hums contentedly, swinging her feet. It takes her a moment but then she realizes the ingredients are already here, right beside her, and her brows raise in surprise. She reaches out to poke the flour, finding it incredibly soft and malleable. "Oh, what is this?" She asks curiously, as she draws a little smiley face on the surface with her finger.

He asks how she slept and she turns her head up toward him, just as he prods her with the spoon. Her body recoils instinctively and she giggles, pushing the spoon away. "Hey!" A mischievous expression darkens her features and suddenly, she picks up the bowl of flour, smirking up at him. It's flung through the air and, consequently, gets all over him. She's surprised by just how much it's able to cover, how it gets simply everywhere.

Tiny hands come up to cover her mouth as she breaks out into laughter, managing to say, "I slept good."

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

“It’s flour.” Sunjata offers with ease as he grabs some ingredients, turning around with a few in hand as the wooden spoon comes out to poke at her stomach, a quiet hum of laughter leaving him as she chimes her ‘hey!’ But he doesn’t exactly expect what comes next, setting the other ingredients down as the bowl comes at him, coating him in flour and the floor and the stove, and everywhere. He looks like a pale ghost in the way the flour collects in the ruffles of his shirt. “Oh shhhh… Shoot.” He chimes, surprise overtaking him but recovering easily as he stands still enough that the flour begins to waft off of him when he moves.

A bark of a laugh leaves him in combination with her own giggles, Sunjata moving to the counter beside her to try and brush off the flour from his clothes and himself, running fingers through his hair to try and get it out. He still comes out chalky, the flour coating the deep navy of his tattoos on his arms as he tries to pull at his shirt to get rid of it some more. “Okay, okay, no more of that.” He manages with a still amused smile on his face, bracing his hands on either side of her as  he reaches up to press a soft bunch of flour right on her nose.

He withdraws to pick up the bowl and set it aside, to grab a broom and try to at least pile the flour into one so that it doesn’t continue to get everywhere else. After that, he hands her the wooden spoon instead, moving to grab the bag of flour to refill the bowl she’d dumped everywhere. “What kind of pancakes do you want?” He asks her, raising a brow to her.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

She can't quite stop once she lets it out, and suddenly her hands go to her belly and her face turns a brighter shade of pink as she shakes with laughter. "Sorry, Dad," she mumbles in the gaps in between. Is she really? No, but she wasn't expecting it to be like this either. He starts to shake off the flour right next to her and she waves her hands about, giggling as the powdery dust starts to coat her own clothes and hair. He presses in a bunch of flour to her nose and she raises her brows in surprise, her nose twitching around like a rabbit's until it falls off.

She watches him amend the mess she's made, until he hands her the wooden spoon and she grabs it, holding it rather triumphantly in her grip. What kind of pancakes? That's a good question. She hasn't thought of that yet, and so she starts to, pressing the spoon to her chin and getting a very thoughtful look on her face.

"Can we eat them with strawberries?" She asks, smiling at him. Then, she turns and starts to sift through the new bowl of flour with her spoon, examining it, wondering how much of it they'll use. Maybe they'll use all of it, enough to share... "Do you think Mama likes pancakes, too?" Her expression is rather serious as she glances over at Sunjata for the answer.

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

The smile blooming on his face in response to her agreement is with ease and lightness, pushing away all thoughts of Nate and when his husband would return, for the Great Flour Disaster this Flowerbirth. He hands her the wooden spoon as he pours more flour in, pulls the recipe over to try and figure out where to start. Pancakes were easy, right? Nate always made them seem so simple.

So he grabs the measuring cups and a new bowl, measuring out the amount of flour they would need to make it before he dumps it into the new bowl, moving around the spoon she wiggles in the flour bowl. “Ooh, strawberries would be good.” He agrees, standing straighter from the bowl as he moves to grab the strawberries, giving one whole one to her (and himself) before he takes a knife to the furthest point away from her and slices into the strawberries.  

“I think your mother probably loves pancakes.” He offers her with a smile. Though he doesn’t know. He’s never asked. He’s never thought about asking.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

The scoop of flour is taken and she uses the spoon to tap on the measuring cup as he empties it, this time it's an attempt to help rather than create a Great Flour Disaster. She nods firmly in agreement that strawberries sound very good with pancakes, and happily accepts the one he gives her. She puts the spoon down and holds the strawberry in her hands, gazing down at it as she listens to his simple answer.

She thinks back to the night she'd come here, when Safrin had brought her to be with Sunjata. Little fingers pluck at the green leaves of the strawberry. She misses her mother, very much, much more than she expected, but she isn't sure what to do with that hole in her chest.

"Do you have a mommy?" She asks suddenly, as if she's not sure that everyone does. She finds it within herself to finally take a small bite of the strawberry.

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

He pops the strawberry into his mouth, chewing around it as he slices the rest of them and puts the knife in a space that she’d never be able to reach, before he’s returning and peering at the ingredient list. In his peripheral vision he spies her poking and prodding the strawberry he’d given her. He swallows down the strawberry just in time to not choke on it when she asks if he has a mommy.

“Of course I do, liefde.” He offers her, internally suddenly panicking and wishing to busy his hands. He grabs another measuring cup and grabs the milk to measure and put into the pancake mix they’ve started with. “She’s… Not here anymore.” He offers her as gently as he can, realizing soon after that Sunjata could decide to try and explain that he’s an outlander, that he wasn’t born here. So he sucks on his teeth a moment, sliding the bowl closer to her so she can stir it, helping as he reaches for the top of the spoon to try and give her the idea. “It has been a long time since I saw my mommy.” He finally decides, with a soft smile, masking everything else up behind it.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

She finds the strawberry very tasty, and munches it down in a matter of moments as she awaits his answer. Outwardly, her shoulders sag when he admits that his own mother isn't here anymore, either. She gets distracted from asking him more questions, for now, when he puts the bowl in front of her and prompts her to stir it.

It kind of amazes her as the milk and flour begin to join into something new, being that she is also new to cooking. The process is fun, she thinks, perhaps funner than the actual eating part - especially since she gets to make it with Sunjata. Of course, she still looks forward to the end result, in seeing how well their pancakes turn out.

Kamaria sees through his smile, as she stirs the flour into a mix. "I miss my mommy too," her voice is quiet, muted in comparison to how it's normally so spirited and carefree. "Why can't you see her anymore?"

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

The distraction is a welcome reprieve as she begins to stir the mixture, Sunjata offering his help when he can. She’s gotten the hang of it quickly, though, and Sunjata moves over to bring the strawberries into the mix once it’s been mixed enough. He doesn’t think it requires anything else, until a slight sudden thought breaks through the rest of his mind tugging. He grabs some spices, some vanilla, some cinnamon, rounding back to her when she asks what happened to his mother after admitting she misses Safrin. He doesn’t blame her for that.

Sunjata moves to sprinkle a bit of the cinnamon in as she stirs, following behind it with vanilla, not knowing how much to add as he tries to eyeball it. “She, uh…” He sets the spices down and finally rests his hand beside her, reaching up to help her stir in the spices. “She died, liefde.” He says quietly, before he’s giving her a quiet, considering look. “But I hope she’s happy where she is.” He truly means every word of it. “And I miss her too just like you miss your mommy.” He tries to lighten the conversation.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

She watches as he sprinkles some other ingredients into the bowl, catching the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla as he goes. The hand on the spoon slows when he hesitates, and her lashes lift up to look him in the face as he helps, as he tells her why. She died, liefde.

Kamaria's hand freezes and her eyes widen. She's young and she doesn't fully understand what it means for someone to die, but she can pick up on the graveness of his words. His next string of words confuse her a bit, wondering what that means. Where she is. "Where is she?" Kamaria asks, trying to puzzle this out, "Is she up in the stars? With my mommy?"

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria