(SE) it doesn't hurt, it feels fine

Locke

im all for compassion

It's been awhile since he was last here and he can't say it doesn't feel good. Sure, training with the Dragoons had done wonders for his physique but there was something about just decking a punching bag. Plus, there's no one here to scold him about his form. Actually, he hadn't seen anyone when he walked in. Which is all well and good for him. It's not that he doesn't like people but he doesn't like people.

Once again, he's not wearing much save for the wraps on his hands and a pair of cloth shorts. It's not as hot in the Slagveld as it is outside but there's already sweat beading between his shoulder blades. Each punch he lands works up something in his system. He's not really mad about anything but there's some pent up frustration there, ripe and ready. Or maybe it's the heat. Either way, he misses his punch by just an inch or so and ends up cracking a knuckle. "Fuckin' gods, fuck!"

Good thing he's alone, right?

but not on my dime

SUNJATA

so, collect your scars and wear 'em well
your blood's as good an ink as any

The Slagveld only had a few repairs to do, some that could wait too, and he focuses on putting those aside to finish up a bit of work in the office space. For the most part the paperwork flies by and before he knows it, he hears someone working out in the training area. That’s fine and all, it’s what it’s there for after all, but he can’t help but to grow curious when he hears the curse echo out into the space.

He rises, leaving the office to investigate, spying a man he doesn’t know particularly well but is at least vaguely familiar with. They’d both tried to go for that mystical gift at the night market, after all. Felt like ages ago, but it yet happened nonetheless. “Hey, you good?” He calls out, stepping down from the stairs that lead up into his office, his steel gaze scanning Locke for signs of injury.

go scratch your name into the clouds
and pull them all... d o w n

Locke

im all for compassion

He's only a little startled when he hears Sunjata behind him. He has to bite down the sudden surge of emotion he feels when he turns to look at him. It's not bad or anything, just a lot. It's like meeting his boyfriend-in-law except he's pretty sure Maeve and Sunjata aren't like that. Or are they? Honestly he hasn't asked. It's not his business to know, not really. So he bites down the negative parts and tries to focus on the positive parts.

"Yeah. Hit the edge of the bag is all." He shakes out his hand as it to prove it to him. Sure, there's a little blood beading up on the bandage but it's nothing he can't handle. He's pretty sure he's broken his hand at least once. He's very good at this human interaction thing. "How you doin'? You do alright with the monsoons?" Looks like the Slagveld hadn't changed much since he was here last. It might need a little cleaning up. Maybe he should offer? He wants to thank him, for taking care of Maeve, for saving her but it feels like maybe not the best time.

but not on my dime

SUNJATA

so, collect your scars and wear 'em well
your blood's as good an ink as any

Sunjata has no idea the tangle of emotions he’s brought into Locke. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know much about the man either. But for what it’s worth, he does drift a bit closer to inspect the bag, making sure it’s relatively still put together and that it hadn’t been his neglect of it that caused Locke’s injury. It wasn’t, and so he leans back a bit, casting his gaze back over the other man when the question airs.

“Yeah, didn’t do too bad.” His accented rumble crosses the air between them. “My house is built into the cliffs though, so. Nothing should happen to them.” The smile fades a fraction though with a long sigh that passes by his lips. “A few places here didn’t do too well. The Halenani mostly.” He shrugs a tattooed shoulder to that, wondering if Locke knew already what had happened to it or not. Of course, Sunjata also doesn’t know about the whole Stormbreak trip either, and so it’s with a curiosity that glimmers in his gaze that he regards the other man again. “How about you?” How’d he fair in the storms.

go scratch your name into the clouds
and pull them all... d o w n

Locke

im all for compassion

Locke takes the smallest step back as Sunjata approaches. He runs his uninjured hand through his hair, grimacing slightly as it comes back sweaty. He forgot how quickly Longheat set in. You'd think after all these years he would know better. "Tha's good. That you came out alright." He knows all of this and it kind of feels odd. But he doesn't comment on it. He looks at Sunjata for a second before looking back at his hand, inspecting the blood starting to seep through the wrapping. It'll be fine for now.

"Ah, yeah. I heard. I was in Stormbreak for the monsoons. Uh, my girlfriend, she works there. So thanks. You know, for getting them out and stuff." He's not sure how much to say. He's pretty sure the thing with Sunjata is more akin to whatever he and Maeve were before but he's not sure if he should know they were sleeping together. This is why he doesn't like knowing things. It makes it hard to exist.

"You wanna go a round?"

but not on my dime

SUNJATA

so, collect your scars and wear 'em well
your blood's as good an ink as any

There’s a low hum of agreement that slips from his throat, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug once more. “Wish I could’ve done more, but… Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty, isn’t it?” He comments a bit offhandedly, grimacing slightly at the thought in such a way that tugs at the scar on his face, before he’s casting a glance down at Locke’s hand. If the other man doesn’t want to bring it up, Sunjata certainly won’t.

Besides, what comes out of Locke’s mouth is a bit more interesting, and Sunjata flashes the Accepted an amused smirk (completely not realizing who Locke’s girlfriend was, what kind of net he’s casting over the two of them). “Yeah? Maybe I’ve seen her.” He hums curiously under his breath, as if he’s trying to pick his brain for those that he had helped when the Halenani collapsed. “It was the least I could do, really. It’s my faut the quest wasn’t finished before the storms hit. Next year will be better though, I can assure you of that.” He shrugs, growing a bit more somber.

As for going a round? “Sure. Haven’t had a sparring partner since mine left for the Ark.” There’s a good natured roll of his eyes with that as he steps away from Locke to grab the wraps to wrap his own hands. He starts with the lightning scarred hand, before he’s wrapping the other, then takes off his shirt to drape over the back of a chair beside the ring if only to not get it all sweaty and gross. Of course, it gives Locke a good view of the tattoos that span his chest, of the marks left on his skin, of Safrin’s tattoos that swirl and spiral along his arms and the constellation in his chest with a scar that’s beginning to form in the shape of NW.

go scratch your name into the clouds
and pull them all... d o w n

Locke

im all for compassion

He tilts his head a little, having thought the same thing, but now that some time has passed.. "I'd say losing a building is about as good as it gets. Sure, the Halenani being destroyed kind of sucks but just means Maeve can rebuild it her way, ya know? Put her touch on it and everything."  He's only met Phoebe once but it's not hard to see how different the two women were, at least to him.

He returns the smirk because Sunjata has definitely seen her. He gets that weird feeling again, equal parts jealousy and lust. One day he'll sort that out. "Yeah. I'd say you know her pretty well actually." If Sunjata hasn't figured it out by now, then maybe he's lost a braincell or two in the storms. Some part of Locke just wants to get it over with and another part is kind of having fun. "Oh? Got something fancy up your sleeve? Gonna do some dragon magic to get it to be stronger?"

He's curious who his Ark sparring partner is but doesn't ask. He really only knows Aurelia. Although that'd be a good guess. He lets it slide because Sunjata is taking his shirt off and Locke can't say he's mad about it. He licks his lips as his eyes trace over scars and tattoos. He notes the new scar but hasn't put two and two together. It really is a weird place to have a North West symbol, isn't it? Is it bad he's more jealous of Maeve than of Sunjata? Either way, he balls his fists back up and gets ready.

"You can go first, Governor. Curious what you can do."

but not on my dime

SUNJATA

so, collect your scars and wear 'em well
your blood's as good an ink as any

“Mm, that she can.” He doesn’t know if Locke’s aware of it or not, but Sunjata had been intimately aware of both Phoebe and Maeve. And yes, they both were quite different. But he doesn’t want to delve into those particular specifics, to relive the life he lived of years past, married to Phoebe in a very monogamous relationship, only to fuck it up and destroy the marriage and his bar shortly after a tryst with Nate.

The smirk is returned and Sunjata’s gaze follows the edge of Locke’s lips with it, before his gaze snaps up to meet the man’s gaze when he mentions that Sunjata would know her very well, and there’s only one person he’d known well enough that lived at the Haulani that he’d helped. And shit, well, that makes things a fraction awkward, though you’d never know it with the playful grin that spreads across his face. “Maeve?” He asks, fully expecting to be right. “Nice.” He offers with a soft laugh before he’s moving into the boxing ring.

“No, no dragon magic. I have a quest from Safrin that I hadn’t realized was done before the monsoons hit. She’s to make a wind breaker of stars that rises after LongNight that protects Haulani from the storms.” And would have come in handy this season, should he have turned it in before hand. But it was common knowledge at this point and Sunjata lets out a soft sigh from his lips.

He takes a moment to scan Locke up and down, less so in the way that Locke does the same, but mostly just trying to determine where the other man’s weaknesses might lie. He wraps his hands as he does so, the scarred lightning side rising the scars underneath the tattoos on the approach toward his heart, creeping across half his chest, and right around the waist of his pants, there’s a few edges of shark bite scars that peek over the waistband, among the rest of the scars that make up his mostly mangled body.

“I’m rusty as hell so don’t laugh, alright?” He snorts, lightening his step as he balls his hands into fists, and moves with a decent amount of speed to aim a fist at Locke’s side.

go scratch your name into the clouds
and pull them all... d o w n

Locke

im all for compassion

Locke hums in agreement, watching the other man closely. "Yeah. Heard you two got close while I was gone." Not that Maeve has told him anything other than that. Well, and that she slept with him. But not like what kind of slept with him, if that makes sense. All he knows is that he's sharing her heart with the man before him and it still makes him bristle, just a bit. Even if he's had his own little trysts since they started dating. There's a difference. He drops the subject though because there's sparring to be had.

"That sounds awesome, honestly. Too bad you didn't finish it in time. I'd offer to help but I don't got nothing fancy like you." He's Accepted, loved by the gods, and yet, he's never had a reason to call on them so what good has it done him? Maybe he will one day, have a reason that is. And maybe he already has one but he doesn't know it yet teehee.

Locke's gaze traces along scars, lingering in dips and valleys, curious about the stories behind then but then Sunjata is punching him. Okay he should've been less distracted but can you blame him? He winces with the sudden flush of pain as he steps back. "That one was on me." Literally! He goes for his own swing. He's a lot less quick to go easy on the man in front of him though. Surely Jata's pretty face can take a hit, right?

but not on my dime

SUNJATA

so, collect your scars and wear 'em well
your blood's as good an ink as any

“She helped a lot when I needed it.” He offers her, finding no shame or difficulties in speaking about it. He hadn’t known that she’d been with Locke – hadn’t known if that was before or after their time together, but either way… It was what it was. And there isn’t much use of continuing that part of the conversation when the idea of sparring comes to mind and shirts are shed and hands are wrapped, stepping into the sandy pit of the ring.

He does offer a bark of a laugh at the mention of having fancy things, wondering if he can bend the rules of the spar to show off a bit – he tends to blame his dragon and macaw shift for his desire to show off a fair amount. For now, though, he remains as is. Just skin and bone, muscle and scars, with a fist flying straight for Locke’s side.

It connects and Sunjata’s wrist pops, a slight surprise that has him sucking in a breath as he moves to try and step out of the way of Locke’s retaliation, only to find it faltering in the way he wishes it to, and instead takes the punch to his shoulder with a hum of a laugh through the wince and pain. “Eyes up, Locke.” He teases lightly, flashing a bright grin as the dragon plates appear along his shoulders, hardened and scarred to replace the feathery tattoos found there. He throws his fist back at Locke, spinning on his heel to try and get Locke in the shoulder in return.

go scratch your name into the clouds
and pull them all... d o w n

Locke

im all for compassion

He wants to laugh but doesn't, only giving Jata a smirk. He thinks of a million retorts but stops himself. It's just the jealousy he feels for the other man, bristling up under his skin and inside his bones. Jata has don't nothing wrong, neither has Maeve. Locke's the one who got his heart tangled up in someone who doesn't want him like that.

Jata takes the hit and for half a second Locke is excited, then the other man shifts and Locke's hand isn't against bone but plated scales. He clicks his tongue, "Well that's not fair, is it?" It is pretty cool though. He's not going to tell him that at all though. He wants to touch it, like intentionally but he's getting punched instead. Jata is too fast for him to really dodge it but that's fine. He doesn't mind going home with a few bruises.

That said, it did hurt like a bitch and he's going to have to pay more attention to Jata's moves. He tries to hold the other man's gaze as he goes for an uppercut. He's not trying to hit Jata's pretty face though, he's aiming for his torso. There's only a half second flick as he looks down to make sure he's angled right. If he knocks him off balance, he might be able to get a second hit in.

but not on my dime

SUNJATA

so, collect your scars and wear 'em well
your blood's as good an ink as any

“Who said anything about fighting fair?” Sunjata replies with a rogue smirk, moving to throw his punch back at the Accepted, watching as Locke doesn’t quite have time to dodge it. There’s a bit of content pride within him at seeing it – not at messing up Locke, of course, Sunjata’s found he quite likes the man – but simply because of the fact he can still land a few punches here and there. That his father hadn’t taken that from him, too, when he’d been made a fool on the cliffs of Aumakua.

Locke and Sunjata’s gaze lock onto one another, Sunjata moving into the movement of the Accepted easily, until he just… Can’t. He makes a mistake, focuses too intensely on Locke to notice the way the man shifts, to see the way the fist comes up and hits him in the torso, right over the constellation tattoo in the center of his chest. It’s hard enough to draw the air out of the Attuned, and the Flood stumbles back with a quiet wheeze. “Godsdamn.” Sunjata comments with a breathy laugh, creating some space between the two of them.

And then, keeping the dragon plates in place, Sunjata moves in the sand with a decent amount of speed to aim his fist at Locke’s side, just above where the other man’s hip bone juts out.

go scratch your name into the clouds
and pull them all... d o w n

Locke

im all for compassion

Locke returns the grin, eyes narrowing as he watches the other man. "I guess you're right. Still not fair." He'd pout if he wasn't about to punch. He's actually surprised he managed to get a hit in on Sunjata. He's not exactly sure about Sunjata's fighting chops but he's not stupid. Plus, the guy runs the Slagveld so he's gotta know something. Right? Actually, he's doing pretty well, as far as Locke can tell. He's not a trained fighter or anything.

He can't help but smirk as Sunjata steps away from him, preening a little. It's his downfall though, as he misses the way Sunjata steps back in. He's also not expecting to be punched where he is. The sudden burst of pain catches him off-guard and he stumbles back a step, hand pressed against his side. "Fucking hell.."

He holds his hands up, laughing. "I need a second. Not used to fighting a literal dragon." More proof he was never meant to be a dragoon. And he needs to catch his breath. The pain isn't horrible but his side is throbbing and he hopes he doesn't have a broken rib. Or worse. He's pretty sure he doesn't but fuck.

but not on my dime

SUNJATA

so, collect your scars and wear 'em well
your blood's as good an ink as any

Locke’s right, really. It isn’t fair. But it’s Torchline and the rules around this place were flimsy at best, so the Flood goes with the flow, as it were. The hit lands on the Attuned and he’s stumbling back a fraction, creating some space between them as he drives toward him, aiming the fist right above Locke’s hip, and practically preening when it lands. It lands a little bit harder than he’d expected though, and there’s a low whistle that leaves him as he withdraws and Locke remains further away, hands drawn up as he asks for a break.

“Sorry, was a bit harder of a punch than I was intending.” He hadn’t wanted to hurt Locke at all – just a friendly spar. It wasn’t like Ronin and Sunjata, neither, not with the way the two of them seemed to go at one another. All it does, though, is reinforce for Sunjata just how strong he is – just how much everyone kept telling him he was, yet never quite feeling it until this exact moment.

The grin spreads across his face, tugging at the scar along the side, hands dropping to his side as he dips below the rope of the ring, slipping toward the bar attachment to grab a couple of glasses and fill them with water, before he’s returning and handing one to Locke. “I’d shift completely into the dragon but I’m afraid I wouldn’t fit in here.” It’s an offhand comment, a crooked smile as he retracts the dragon plates and leaves behind bronze, scarred and tattooed skin.

go scratch your name into the clouds
and pull them all... d o w n