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

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

Her eyes widen and Sunjata inwardly cringes at the intensity of it all. He internally chastises himself, tries to pick words that might make more sense even as she picks up on it surprisingly well. Perhaps the sitter he’s picked has done a good job at teaching her the things he can’t. He lets her continue stirring as her question is aired and opens up a whole other can of worms to work through, and Sunjata’s moving to clean up the flour off the stove so he can light it and put a plan on it.

Rounding back to her while it heats up, he picks over his words carefully. “Well, your daddy isn’t from this world originally.” That’s confusing in and of itself, really, and he doesn’t know how much she knows about Outlanders. “I came from somewhere else and I got… Plucked.” He makes a motion with his hand to lift another slice of strawberry from the plate he’d cut them on. “And I landed here.” He plops the strawberry into the batter. His gaze lifts to her face to try and see if it makes sense.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

She sits up straighter and lets go of her hold on the pancake mix as he takes it away to begin cooking, and she wonders vaguely if she can also help with that - but the subject matter at hand is a little more pressing. Kamaria would've wanted to meet Sunjata's mother, to know her grandmother. Or her grandfather.

Her head quirks to one side, almost birdlike in nature, at the mention of not being from this world. Confusing indeed! Her lips purse together tightly and her little brows furrow. "Plucked?!" She repeats the word, almost shocked by it. She swallows, trying to process this. So he's not from Caido, not even from its stars - no, more than that, there are other stars out there, other Caidos. Or maybe worlds completely unlike Caido at all. The thought brings a wonderous light to her eyes, although it dims quickly as she realizes what that means for Sunjata's mother.

Kamaria hesitates before she hops down from the island counter, landing with a thump and a little unsteadily, but otherwise she's still on her feet. Recovering quickly from this, she walks over to stand beside Sunjata and look up at him. His hands are busy, so she grabs his pants and curls her fingers around the material.

Her lower lip pouts subconsciously. She doesn't know what to say. His mother is gone, forever? "So you don't have a mommy or a daddy anymore?" She asks, and just asking the question makes her even sadder. Tears start to sting at her eyes.

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

His explanation is done and he adds a bit of butter to the pan according to the recipe, letting it swirl around before it burns and he realizes that the pan is a bit too hot. So he grimaces lightly, cleaning it out and turning it down before he’s peering back at her as she hops down from the counter and comes to his side. He tries to keep an eye on her as she clutches his pants, trying to ensure she doesn’t reach for the stove. “Plucked.” He agrees softly, until he looks down to her and spies the pout.

He can see the shimmer of tears too, though, and he waits for the pan to cool to give her his full attention, moving to kneel beside her to get to her eye level. “I do. They’re just… Not here.” He says softly, smiling to her as if it didn’t matter much to him. “Which is okay. I’m okay with it, liefde.” He assures her, pulling her in for a hug. “You don’t have to worry about it though because your mommy and daddy are here with you.” Safrin might be in the stars but she was here too.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

Kamaria tries to hold back her tears, not wanting to cry, not liking the feeling of it. Much of her short life has been filled with very big emotions, though, that wash over and through her one by one, sometimes all at once, and she hasn't truly taken any time to process things. Having the mind of a child, she doesn't know how to do that anyway.

Still, her own pain threads with his and it's hard to pull back from, even harder to contain. They both miss their mothers, and she knows how he must really feel deep down. No, maybe she has no idea, because his isn't still here. So when he comes down to her eye level, the tears swell in her eyes and she sniffles.

"But you're not okay. You miss your mommy," she mumbles into his shoulder, arms wrapping around his, "and you can't see her anymore." She tries to rub her hand over his back to comfort herself and him both. "That's not fair."

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

There are tears in her eyes and Sunjata pulls her in for a hug, momentarily forgetting about the pan up above. His daughters words pierce through him, though, and he squeezes her tight against him as she rubs her tiny hand against his back. “Of course I miss her, Ria.” He hums, keeping her close as he picks over his words. “And it isn’t fair. But I have her with me still.” In a way, he always would.

He pulls away from her, reaching up to cup her jaw as a soft smile graces his face. “I have all my memories with her, just like you have the memories of your mother and the stars.” The smile he gives her is genuine, before he’s moving to scoop her up so she tucks in against his side so he can continue to cook. “Aaaaand, there is plenty more time to make more.” He slides the pan back over and puts the butter in with his freehand, fiddling in the utensil drawer soon after for a ladle to stick into the pancake mix as he waits for the butter to melt.

He tilts his head to look at her, that same soft smile on his face. “But right now we have pancakes we have to try and make, hm?”

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

It isn't fair, he agrees. A silent stream of tears warm her cheeks, disappearing into Sunjata's shirt as she tucks her face in against the material and squeezes her hands against him.

When he pulls back, she sniffs, pulling herself straighter. One of her arms comes up to quickly rub away her tears before he's cupping her jaw in his hands and she peers back at him, doe-eyed, lips pressing together. She listens to his comforting words in silent earnest, soaking up all of the gentled roughness of his voice, heart lifting when he smiles across at her. There's something genuine about it this time, not meant to simply wave off her worry but to assure her that there is plenty to cherish in the memories he has.

"I hope so," she mumbles, leaning in as he picks her up. She's gotten used to this by now; him scooping her up into his arm so she can perch there and feel safe from anything, everything. Her cheek rests against his shoulder and she nods quietly as he says they should return to making pancakes. She takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"You get extra pancakes, Daddy," she declares suddenly, "so that you can be cheered up." She lifts her head to look at his face, to see if he liked that idea.

Distracted, she finds the beginnings of his feather tattoos beneath the collar of his shirt and begins to fiddle with them curiously, her hands tickling over his skin, "What's this?"

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

Her tears leave a slight wet patch in his shirt, but he pays it little mind as he hoists her up. He keeps her close, nestled in against him, a perfect height for her to rest her head against his shoulder and watch him (probably fuck up the pancakes) try to cook the pancakes. The butter begins to melt and Sunjata grabs the ladle, filling it a bit with the batter and moving to pour it into the pan with quite the attentive eye.

The recipe had said wait for bubbles, right? But how many?

She distracts him by her declaration, his head tilting toward her with a gleam of amusement in his gaze. “Ooh. How many extra, liefde?” He halfway croons, a smile tilting up the corner of his lips. “One? Two? Five?” Here he raises a dark eyebrow before his attention returns to the pancakes as the bubbles begin to grow more incessant, and Sunjata suddenly quietly panics at the realization he didn’t grab a spatula to flip it. Fumbling in the drawer again, he pulls one out to try and stick under the pancake to flip while she fiddles at his tattoo.

Her question takes a moment for him to respond, flipping the pancake and watching as it sadly folds over on itself. “Maybe the first one goes to Haai.” He mutters under his breath, before he remembers she’s asked a question. He waits for that side to cook before he looks back to her. “It’s a tattoo, Ria.” He murmurs with a soft smile, not even knowing how to explain it. “I got the feathers back home in Korofi. They were my first ones.”

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

The bright shine of his eyes brings a similar sheen to her own, through the glisten of leftover tears, and she smiles at him as happily as she can muster. "Which one is the most?" She asks, "Five!?"

Her own attention pours over the pancakes as his does, watching with sudden alertness as he shifts to scramble for a spatula. The tattoo is momentarily forgotten as she focuses on what he's focused on, her brows raising in heavy concern. The pancake flops beneath his attempts and she wonders if this is right until he mumbles that it might go to Haai. She brightens up a little at this and decides, "Haai wants a pancake, too," with a slight tilt of her head she asks, "you need help, Daddy?" He appears to be struggling under the pressure of cooking, and she's not sure what she can do, but she's willing to try.

At his answer of her question, her greenish gaze returns to the ink along his shoulder and she spreads her hand across that place on his shoulder once more. She's a little fascinated by it. "Is that how you can be a bird? With t-aa-toos?" She asks, pronouncing the word a little wrong, lifting her gaze to his expectantly.

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

“Five is the most!” He chimes to her with a crooked smile, pulled up on the edge where the scarring sits. But he focuses on trying to flip that one pancake, watching as it breaks apart, unsure how to do it better – but he waits for it to cook as he considers the idea of giving it to Haai when Kamaria suggests her own help. His head tilts toward her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re helping me right here, sweetheart.” He assures her, before he’s slipping the pancake out of the pan and putting it on a separate plate – one for Haai to devour as he goes to pour more batter in to try again.

Her small hands run over the tattoo on his shoulder, the question aired as he focuses on trying to keep that one pancake in a circle. “Mm, no. I can be a bird because your mommy changed me.” He pauses, setting the spatula down to poke at her chest above her heart, gently of course. “In here.” He considers her a moment before he’s trying to explain a tattoo. “A tattoo is just… Like pictures we like that people put in our skin.” He murmurs softly.

“Your mommy even gave me a few.” He offers her with a bright smile, before he’s turning back to the pancake, seeing the bubbles, and manages to try and flip this one with far more success than the last one.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

Kamaria watches Sunjata and the Great Pancake Disaster, forgetting their plights from only moments ago as he kisses the top of her head. His assurance is convincing enough for her, for the time being. Her gaze sweeps over the marks on his cheek as they bend to his smiling lips, but it's just another feature to her. The scar looks as normal on him as his hair, or his stubble, or the ink that covers his skin. She knows it's different, but she doesn't realize the cruelty behind its infliction. For all she knows, he was born with it.

Mineral eyes perk up at his answer, that it's not the tattoos that make him shift but her mother who's made that possible. She grins when he touches the spot on her chest above her heart, playfully poking the same spot on his in return. "In there?!" She marvels at this, "How?" Her head quirks to one side, she's dying to know more.

Sunjata's explanation of a tattoo gives her quite a lot of ideas, actually, and she wonders what pictures she might like to have in her own skin. That same astonishment crops up in her expression when he reveals that Safrin gave him some of his tattoos. "You think mommy will give me some?!" She asks with a hopeful tilt of her brows, "I want feathers too! Like you!"

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

They’ve both managed to avoid the panic of a five year old melt down, and for that Sunjata certainly pats himself on the back in his mind as he tries to focus on the pancakes. He gets another one settled in, waits for the bubbles as he explains what the difference between a tattoo is and just how Safrin had changed him. “Well, I went and found her and asked to Attune and she found me and touched my soul and… Next thing I knew I was a bird.” There’s a glittering of amusement in his gaze as he peers back at her, before lifting the spatula to flip that pancake.

It’s much more successful than last time and he waits for the other side of the pancake to cook before he’s pausing to consider her question of tattoos – a bright laugh leaving him as he looks at her in a sideways glance. “Maybe. Not until you’re older though. They’re permanent and they won’t go away.” He pulls that one pancake off and sets it on a plate for her, as he goes to pour another pancake into the pan. “So we have to be sure it’s what we really want before we get t them.”

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

Kamaria's fascinated by the story Sunjata tells her, even if it is simplified. That in and of itself is enough to make her gawk at him with awe and envy. The sizzle of the stove catches her and she looks down to see a stupendous pancake. As far as pancake standards go, it does the trick. "Oooh! That one's perfect, Daddy!" She proclaims, distracted by the buttery-sweet aroma. "Just five and five more to go!" Because obviously, if he's having five, then so will she. Duh. Also, she's bad at math.

Her spirit dims, however, when he tells her that she can't get a tattoo yet. Well, that's not fair. And it doesn't make sense. Why does being older matter? She's perfectly capable of making this decision herself. "It is what I really want," she insists, pouting, "I'll still want it when I'm big too. Promise!" She wiggles in his grip insistently, "Pleaaaaase?" She stills, then, as she airs a newfound truth, "I wanna be like you... and fly!" Her arms lift up to mimic the wings of a bird, not paying much forethought to the spatula in his hand as she accidentally flings it from his grip.

"Oops..."

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria

SUNJATA

the flood

holding back the flood,

in this skyscraper town

Somehow, her praise over Sunjata’s perfect pancake, does make him brighten a bit. Quite a lot actually, as a low rumble of a laugh leaves him, forgetting about all the sorrows and the things that weigh on him. “Not sure we have enough batter for that, liefde. Let’s see how far we get, hm?” He asks, cocking his head toward her as he pours more batter into the pan and waits for them to bubble before grabbing the spatula in an attempt to be prepared to flip it when it’s ready.

His attention returns to her completely, though. “Then you can get one when you’re older.” He agrees, so long as the same statement applies. She has to be older. “What if you don’t like the design you pick now when you’re seventeen?” He asks, raising a brow with amusement. As for her flying, that still isn’t tied into the tattoos, and he’s halfway prepared an explanation when she knocks the spatula out of his hand and it goes flying.

Which of course is during the time the pancake should be flipped.

So he moves to set her on the counter, grabbing the spatula and rinses it off, just in time to flip the pancake to spy a couple of burnt edges. It wasn’t inedible, though, and he leans over to her as he waits for that side to cook. “It’s okay. We have to be careful in the kitchen, though. You could get hurt.” He raises a brow to her, ensuring briefly that there isn’t any immediate danger nearby. He certainly won’t let her get near the stove, though. “Do you want to be a bird? Or… A bat? Or… a bug?” He asks with a crooked smile as he continues his attempt at pancakes.

you gave all that sweat and blood,

now you think you're gonna drown

love should be as flowers of the weedy sort

Kamaria has no qualms about the pancakes, settling on seeing how many they can make, letting him off easy this time. Obviously they could just make more batter, which was very fun, especially the part where she poured flour all over him. If that wasn't apart of the steps before, it is now.

Anyway, she's far more concerned with this tattoo scenario, and she just doesn't get why it has to be so complicated. Why not have wings or feathers like a bird? The spatula goes flying, however, a little too caught up in her own excitement. She quickly lowers her hands and her lips tighten together.

She watches him from where he places her back onto the counter and, feeling bad now, she nods in wide-eyed earnest at his gentle warning. "Okay..." Deciding not to give him such a hard time anymore, she adds on, "Fine. I'll wait until I'm seven-teen," she arches her own brow at him, intentionally copying his expression and making quite a funny face in her effort to. She waggles a finger at him, "But not longer than that!"

At the prompting question he asks her, though, she smiles again. "A bug!?" She laughs, finding this one very silly, "what kind of bugs would we be?"

they break through cement and persist

Kamaria