Bart's No Good Very Bad (Rainy) Day

Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed

There’s a prolonged moment where Bartholomew wants to rip the pages and run, or perhaps if he were more vulnerable he’d ask for the man to turn away. All he wants is a few minutes to come to terms with seeing a relic of his brother’s existence, because accepting he’s alive is going to take far more time than Sunjata can afford him.

It shouldn’t be so heavy a blow, to be told he has to wait. That Nate simply isn’t here. The hope has had scant few seconds to even bloom, and yet he can feel the ache spread through his chest all the same. Funny how healed scars can so readily be ripped open into tender wounds.

Fuck, and apparently Scarface is the Governor? Good fucking job Nate! Bart knew he was capable of great things, but nepotism certainly hadn’t been on the list. And it better have made its way onto it, because if his twin hasn’t taken advantage then Bartholomew will be sorely disappointed. Still, the offer makes his insides squirm, distrust still poisoning his insides. But fuck, what other choice does he even have? He doesn’t even know which way lies town, he has no money - if their currency is even the same - and nobody else is going to be inclined to take in an asshole like him. Especially soaked as he is as the cherry on top.

To the in-laws house it is.

"Ain’t got nowhere else to go," he admits, a little reluctantly. Turning a sharp eye the man’s way, he finally sticks his hand out. "Only if ya call me Bartholomew. No shortcuts. Now tell me yours so I know who my brother got shackled to." And so he can make the man start groveling, because this certainly wasn’t the best first impression - and for once, it doesn’t matter that Bart was also on asshole, because he has the high ground as Nate’s twin.

Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear

BARTHOLOMEW

// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump.  born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //

There’s a moment where Sunjata can relate to how Bart’s feeling, a moment where the realization that someone you knew that you for sure knew had died, walks into your life again. It’s a feeling unlike anything else. But Sunjata can’t give that to Bart, not right now. He can’t give the man what it is he seeks. So the best he can do is offer shelter, a space to live within, to come to terms with this new life he’s been dropped into.

And then to see his brother again.

He nods, gaze darting to the hand that’s offered, Sunjata’s lightning scarred hand coming out to shake his brother-in-law’s. “Deal.” He begins, offering a small - perhaps a bit amused - smile. “I’m Sunjata.” He pauses, withdrawing his hand and moving to guide the way back home. “I can try to fill you in on things as we get back to the house. I guess for starters, this world has quite a few new… Types as it were. I think Nate mentioned you’re from America, yeah?” His silver gaze casts over to Bart with an arched brow. “No fancy shifts or… What not. Here there’s Accepted, basically what you were back then. Then there’s Attuned, like me, that can change into animals. Abandoned have magic they can cast. And then there’s the Ascended.” Here he pauses, his step slowing a fraction. “They’re a bit hard to explain. It’s what Nate is now. He’s… Genetically modified, I guess? Ageless, can’t be out in the sun too long. No blood, just this fluid they get from their goddess to survive off of. Though I guess in a pinch they can run off of blood from others.” He pauses, lifting the scarred hand to point to his neck where the silvery scars show. “Uh… There’s gods here, too.”

a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go

SUNJATA

Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed

Well, the man’s handshake is firm enough, and scarred like Bart’s own - if a little more drastically - so that’s a good enough start for him. And a name, at that, even if Bart (being the asshole he is) will probably refer to him as Scarface until his dying day. Though he’ll surely come up with something more creative eventually. Poking fun at someone’s appearance is a low bar for him. Not because he’s above it, but because he likes to think he has better things to prod at than what’s readily available to the eye.

Then Sunjata starts dumping world-shattering info left and right, and Bartholomew is helpless to do anything but listen and try not to stumble in the wet sand with his biker boots. It’s more than a lot to digest, and he’s still not quite convinced this isn’t a fucked up brand of Purgatory, but he tries to roll with it.

Only to throw an incredulous look Sunjata’s way toward the end. "I’m sorry, did you just say my brother’s a fuckin’ vampire? What the hell." Fuck he’s glad Nate’s alive, but out of all the options he became Dracula? Oh god, this is way too much ammunition. Bart has never felt so alive. Maybe this really is heaven. A gleeful look steals over his face that spells nothing but trouble, tempered only by the statement that there’s apparently legit Gods here. Like, plural. He definitely didn’t mishear that. "Well f’yer gonna light my brain up with all this info, might as well tell me about these gods. Rip the bandaid off." He can schedule his crisis for later.

Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear

BARTHOLOMEW

// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump.  born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //

It is a lot of information, a lot that Bart will have to get used to quicker rather than later, given the fact of how close those gods are to both Sunjata and Nate. Now, Sunjata doesn’t know what a vampire is, but he can see the amusement on Bart’s face clear as day — he can also see the crinkle of his eyes with it that Sunjata intimately knows is so similar to Nate’s own. “I guess.” Shoulders shrug a bit helplessly, giving into the idea of Nate being a vampire even if Sunjata’s never heard of them.

The rest of it, though, the gods, well… For starters he supposes he should be broad. “There’s Old Gods and New Gods. The Old Gods are Mort, Rae, and Vi. God of death, god of Nature, god of life, respectively. They have heralds. Ludo for Mort, Frey for Rae, and Safrin for Vi.” He pauses as his heart twists a bit. “I follow Safrin. Hence all the stars.” He lifts his tattooed arm as if to show it off, before settling in as they head up the hills toward the house built into the cliffs.

“The New Gods are basically just the Voice I think. That’s… Well. Nate’s a demigod for her. So he’s pretty up there with her.” His gaze slips back over to Bart, waiting to see what kind of reaction that might grant him.

a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go

SUNJATA

Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed

Oh, Bartie doesn’t care that Sunjata seems confused. Bitemark scars? Ageless? Can’t go into the sun? That’s all he needs to know in order to make Nate’s life a living hell. For eternity, quite literally. Nate being alive is nearly eclipsed by the joy of mockery material provided to him.

Unfortunately there’s still so much more to learn - or, more accurately, have blabbed at him while he tries to listen - and that takes precedence over coming up with various names to call his twin brother. Speaking of names, holy shit are there a lot, and he tries to commit them somewhat to memory. Safrin at least is a name he can tie to a visual cue as soon as Sunjata shows off his tattoos. Honestly he’s not certain how much he needs to know. Fucking around with gods isn’t really on his bucket list.

Except apparently his brother is also a demigod. "Fuckin’ hell, and here I was thinkin’ I could ignore some of it." With a gusty sigh, he shoves a hand through his wet curls to get them out of his eyes. "So is Torchline the main uh...continent? Country?" Uncertain what they even call this place, or if it defies categorization like everything else seems to.

Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear

BARTHOLOMEW

// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump.  born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //

The wind continues to batter at them, pulling them this way and that, and Sunjata continues to try and brace against the winds as he guides Bart back toward the house. Through the clouds and rain it can be seen, a bit fuzzy on the horizon, but there nestled within it. So Sunjata tries to offer as much information as he can, positive that Bart will likely forget most of it, which is fine. It took Sunjata quite some time to remember it all, too.

The mention of Nate becoming a demigod, though, Sunjata wonders if perhaps he should have kept that a secret until Nate’s arrival. Cat’s out of the bag, though, and all he can do is offer an apologetic smile and a slight shrug of a tattooed shoulder. “It’s not… It’s like, a region. The world is Caido. Then there’s regions. Torchline is here, then there’s Halo, the Hollowed Grounds, the Greatwood… A few places in between called the Wilds.” He pauses as the house comes a bit fuller into view, looming and huge.

“Nate should be coming back soon, probably when the storms are over. I don't think I'd be able to get a letter to him.” He offers with a brief pause, fishing in his pocket for a key to the home. He doesn't even know where Nate is to try and guide a letter there.

a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go

SUNJATA

Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed

Bart spares a moment to hate his life as the two of them struggle through the wind and rain. It doesn't take more than a moment - he's quite adept at it after three decades of practice. Just a blip and bam, movin' on. He can't help but scowl jealously at Sunjata's back though. Dude has an extra few inches on him, and a bit more muscle; any advantage he has in this shitstorm is enviable.

At least his voice is a beacon through the battering downpour, not that Bart is confident in his ability to keep all these names straight. Instead he just nods along, letting it go in one ear and out the other. He's still kinda dealing with the whole not actually dead thing, not to mention how Nate has seemingly joined him in that category. Regional names don't quite stack up to that knowledge y'know?

He huddles as close to Sunjata as he can when they're on the doorstep, probably looking like an angry drowned cat. Rain isn't his look. "I'll be a helluva welcome home surprise," he snorts, devil may care grin sparking on his lips. Completely unaware of the why behind his twin's absence. Probably best for Sunjata, really, that he doesn't know for as long as possible. "It always this shitty here? Cuz I gotta say, ya need some new real estate if so."

Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear

BARTHOLOMEW

// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump.  born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //

“He’s going to lose his mind, probably.” He rumbles as he brandishes the key out of the pocket, slips it into the lock, and opens it up. Upon entering, Bart would find that the left hand side of the entry is geared more politically, more official business, the right? Entirely homey – things of both Sunjata and Nate’s tastes lingering throughout it all. Bart might notice the huge kitchen, with things situated perfectly where Nate had preferred them to be (gods knew that Sunjata wasn’t the cook in this relationship). So he lets Bart in, huffing a small snort. “No. You arrived at a shitty time. It’s monsoon season. Longheat’s coming up soon and it’s warm and quite beachy paradise.” He casts a glance over Bart once again.

Then he pauses to slip out of his boots and his jacket, his tattoos fully visible on his arms now from the sleeveless shirt he wears, reaching up to rub at the compass at his neck. “Shoes off when you’re in the house, by the way.” It had mostly been Nate’s rule, and part of him wonders if it resonates with something deeper. “So, uh, welcome.” Arms spread out to encompass the rest of the home, slipping into it deeper so that he might throw a log on the fireplace. Haai races to greet him, standing stock still as she stares at Bart, wings flaring and gaze narrowing as she peers at him.

But she nears the Accepted, initially letting a snarl loose from her maw as she spies the familiar jacket. But when she sniffs Bart, a whine escapes her and her tail begins to wag, her ears perking, before she’s trying to nudge her face into his leg.

a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go

SUNJATA

Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed

"I mean, y'said I died in his...world, or whatever. 's gonna be a shock for botha us." It's a bit too revealing of a statement in his opinion, though nobody else would call it vulnerable aside from him. At least it's spoken with the same easy nonchalance as everything else.

Letting himself in, he kicks off his shoes before the reminder is even spoken and his chest burns as he stares down at the discarded leather boots. God, some things just don't change huh? Bart's gonna have to resign himself to feeling this way, it probably isn't gonna stop anytime soon. Not when Nate's personality is written all across this house even with just a flick of his dark gaze.

Distracted by the furry little creature that comes stomping up with a growl, Bart raises both eyebrows at it, stamping down the urge to kick it because fuck that ain't no chihuahua, it has fucking wings. Masterfully he doesn't, and soon it's butting up against him eagerly. Squatting, Bartholomew awkwardly offers his hand. "Don't bite me, whatever you are," he grumbles mostly to himself as he waits to see what it will do with the offered appendage.

Only then does he stand, awkward and out of place but too cocksure to show it. He doesn't take off the jacket - refuses to, really. A little rain won't hurt him, and if it gets on Scarface's couch he doesn't rightly care. That's where he topples down first, legs akimbo as his gaze finds the fire Sunjata is working on. "So, how long y'all been married?" He needs to figure out how nice he needs to be to this dude.

Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear

BARTHOLOMEW

// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump.  born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //

“You did.  He doesn’t… Talk about it much.” Sunjata says with a quiet grimace, sure that it’s been the same for Bart, given the tattoo on his bicep. But Sunjata doesn’t push it further than that, not as Haai thinks that Bart’s some stranger that’s entered their house, wearing Nate’s jacket, smelling similarly of him and yet not being the Ascended. So it takes her a moment, inspecting him after he drops to greet her.

She sniffs his hand eagerly, before her jade gaze lifts to peer at Bart with perked ears and feathers that begin to smooth out. “Her name is Haai.” He rumbles, his accent sticking on her name, as he steps in to place some more logs on the fire. Haai seems quite content to follow around her new friend, though, slinking around the couch to sit in her nest and stare at him while Sunjata works.

Bart’s question is aired and Sunjata places another log onto the fire, before he slips back to sit on the opposite chairs, stretching out his legs before him. “Almost a year?” He hums, idly spinning the wedding ring on his finger in the shape of a moon. “Been together officially almost two years.” He works his jaw while he considers it.

a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go

SUNJATA

Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed

He doesn't need any sort of consolation. Bart knows how much they'd both meant to each other, knows realistically that if the tables had been turned Nate would've missed him just as much. But after over a decade without his twin, things get muddied. Half-forgotten in the wake of their father's vitriol, which has only sharpened after Nate had died. Bart merely grunts to affirm he'd heard the man, but offers nothing farther. Any words he could come up with would only sound choked, and reveal the lump in his throat that is otherwise hidden.

"Weird lookin' dog. I wouldn't want mine to have wings, that's just askin' for 'em to counter-surf." Though it's spoken rather fondly past the sharpness of his grin. Bart loves animals, but they simply weren't a possibility in his and Nate's home life. He merely stares back at her as she follows him, content to drink his visual fill - maybe just to confirm she isn't a weird visual hallucination.

Sharp eyes descend upon the hands that fiddle with the wedding ring, tucking the information away. It's more important than regional names and Gods in his opinion. "Where we grew up, bein' with a man was a death sentence. In more ways'n one." It's hard-edged, defensive in the sense that he's scared it might be the same here. Though his body language is loose and open, splayed open, there's a catlike sharpness to his gaze that undermines it. "But 'm glad he was able to be himself here. Even if it's with you." Bart grins at the man, happily poking the metaphorical bear. He has brother-in-law immunity now after all.

Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear

BARTHOLOMEW

// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump.  born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //

Sunjata’s content to let the conversation over both Nate and Bart’s respective deaths die for favor of speaking of Haai. “She’s a griffin.” He murmurs as he settles into his side of the couch. “She can breathe fire and bite pretty hard so I’d stay on her good side.” He says, glancing at the griffin fondly. “Nate’s her favorite out of the two of us.” He adds with a softer smile before his gaze is lifting to scan Bart.

Instead, the offered words have a slight snort leaving him as he nods, some sort of sympathy sparking across. “It was where I’m from too.” He admits, allowing himself to get a bit softer here with his brother in law than he otherwise would be,  as the words slip from his lips. “Nate was… The one who opened my eyes, I guess.” It feels too mushy to say anything else about it and his gaze quickly averts to his hands where he fiddles with the ring.

Still, the sharp tones of Bart with a hint of playfulness, draw a weary smile from Sunjata, a roll of his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry about the jacket. I thought you swiped it off him during his trip.” He says, pulling his hands away from the fiddling to drape one over the back of the couch, leaning back against the cushions. “And if you were some stranger that had done it, I’d have probably electrocuted you. So.” Tattooed shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “Guess you’re lucky.” He gets to poke his own fun, of course, while Nate’s gone – trying to fix his blunder from earlier of getting off on the wrong foot.

a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go

SUNJATA

Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed

Alright, so not totally a dog - apparently it's half fuckin' dragon too. One more weird thing to come to terms with. "If she can stand my brother, she can hopefully stand me," he chuckles, scuffing his socked foot against the hardwood. "Though I'll admit, 'm worse than him in a lotta ways. I'll hafta invest in shin guards for her." He's not looking to get his kneecaps chewed on just because he's a self-admitted asshole.

A critical gaze is pinned on Sunjata, the words not quite giving him what he had been hoping to unearth. "Yeah, he's always been a rebellious fucker 'bout that." To the point that it killed him. That certainly hadn't helped Bart on his own journey of self-discovery. If he even dares to glance at the shadow in the closet long enough to even deem it worthy a journey at all. "He's...safe here, right?" Eyes narrow into slits, and Bartholomew sits a little straighter from his lounge, tension running across narrow shoulders. He's knocked out more than enough teeth on his brother's behalf - not to mention all the other attention being a nurse in his particular ward had to deal with after Nate had passed. If this place has fire-breathing dogs, he fucking hopes it's at least missing the homophobia. "Like, is it accepted?" Some places had been a lot more liberal even outside the states, but he isn't sure how hopeful he should be.

A scarred hand waves away the apology like it's smoke, wrist loose and motion careless. "Nah, makes sense when I see where you were comin' from. And if I had stolen it, ya woulda been in yer right to zap me," Bart tosses back with a lopsided grin that makes him seem much younger than his years. He'd never fully outgrown the puppy face he'd been born with. It had definitely gotten him out of some sticky situations too. "Though I bet I rock it better than Nate, even if it was his first." A lie if he's ever said one. He's far too narrow and lithe to fill it out, and his face isn't as angular and tragically handsome. Bart doesn't care too much though, it's a sentimental piece.

Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear

BARTHOLOMEW

// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump.  born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //

A snort leaves him at Bart’s confession of whether or not Haai would be able to deal with him and the mention of shin guards… As if those would ever work. So instead, he focuses on the feeling that radiates to him from Haai, as if it might be some sort of consolation. “She likes you already.” He offers softly, shrugging his shoulders as if that was that.

As for the rest of it, though, a bright gaze that’s sharp as needles stares at Sunjata but it doesn’t make him want to shrink or hide away. Instead, he levels his own steel at Bart, as if in both understanding and a hardness that seems to say ‘he knows’. He knows that Nate’s always been rebellious, and perhaps that’s part of the reason Sunjata’s seemed drawn to him from the beginning. “It’s accepted, yeah. We’re safe here.” Safe as much as one could be in a place like this, but it wasn’t their sexuality that doomed them. “Surprised me too, to be honest.”

Sunjata stretches out, though, long legs propping up on the edge of the couch that faces Bart’s as he tries to relax a bit, a hum of a laugh leaving him at Bart’s words, his eyes focusing on his brother in law with quite a lot of attention as he looks the man up and down. “Sorry, no, Nate’s definitely got that one in the bag.” He offers with a crooked smirk of amusement.

a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go

SUNJATA