[Training] so i guess all the rumors are true

I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see

"Oh, I know. You've told me before." She reminds him easily, snickering despite herself. A lot of things might have changed, but her ability to tease him has not. She's still just as quick witted as before. Something he seems to have forgotten in the short time that she was away from him. "But here? You're stupid tall. Actually met someone almost as tall as you in Stormbreak. It seems that being tall goes hand in hand with being an ass." Maeve quips, grinning over at him and daring him to challenge her back. He isn't an ass. At least not to her. Sure, he's a little snarky sometimes. Fully capable of shooting back the same level of sarcasm at her. It was something that endeared her to him in the first place.

But they're still training and she's trying her best to stay one step ahead of him. Whether she actually is or if he's just letting her get away with it is to be determined. Maeve has a feeling it's the latter, but she'll take it. Easily she slips under his arm, but he turns, ducking low and sweeping his leg out in hopes to trip her up, but Maeve is incredibly light on her feet. She leaps in jeté, going from one foot and onto the other, spinning in a pirouette until she's facing him again. Maeve even goes so far as to do a little bow, laughing softly as she smirks up at him, "Guess I give new meaning to dancing around your partner, huh?"

They take my fingers in their mouths like it's poetry

Maeve

daydream about me, and i know that you hate the nights without me

“Suppose it’s what makes up for all the extra length.” Sunjata comments a bit off-handedly, amused despite himself of the idea of it. There were plenty of people almost as tall as he was – Nate was one of them, and Sunjata owned every couple of extra inches he held over anyone else. He had to, after all.

But they’re still sparring and he’s moving with her, sweeping out the leg to try and take her down, and when she evades the sweep and bounces from foot to foot and then spins, ending it with a bow, Sunjata steps back and folds his arms across his chest, huffing a laugh. “It’s a bit flashy if you ask me.” The Flood responds with an amused smile, before he’s nodding toward the kitchenette area outside of the ring. “But you did well. Let’s grab some water, take a break, and I can show you how the bags work.” It didn’t do well to overextend one’s self, after all.

And honestly? It’s too fucking hot to continue in the ring anyway. At least the space he’d carved out for the punching bags had a window that let a nice breeze in, kept it from getting stuffy. So he steps out of the ring, holding up the rope for her to follow him toward the kitchenette where he can grab two glasses and some cold water for the both of them.

SUNJATA

I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see

Maeve straightens up, incredibly proud of herself for managing to catch him at least a little off guard, "Flashy, huh? I'm a dancer, Jata. I'm not sure what you expected." She laughs, following him towards the edge of the ring, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her hair is sticking to the nape of her neck, sweat gathering along her spine and making her tank top stick to her skin uncomfortably. Maeve slips between the ropes, landing with ease on the ground once more and joining him in the kitchenette. She takes the glass with a soft thanks, brining it up to her lips and drinking deeply. A deep flush is on her cheeks, the heat clearly making itself known on her skin.

"So... Do you think I show promise? Next champion of the Slagveld?" Maeve smirks at him over the edge of her glass before taking another drink as she leans against the counter. Things feel a bit easier now. Maeve doesn't let her eyes linger on any one part of his body except his face. That's safe. "You met Locke then?" She arches a brow, finally acknowledging that he brought that up before.

They take my fingers in their mouths like it's poetry

Maeve

daydream about me, and i know that you hate the nights without me

A snort leaves him at her quip, a roll of his eyes as well. “Just because you’re a dancer doesn’t mean you have to make things flashy.” He pauses, considering her as she slips through the ropes out into the open. “I used to dance too and yet you don’t see me prancing about.” A crooked smile forms across his face as he lets the rope drop and the attuned moves into the kitchenette, pouring water into a glass and hands it to her before he fills his own and takes a deep sip, reaching up after to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Champion?” He hums a laugh, a huff of air leaving him as he leans against the edge of the counter, hands braced as he peers at her. “Don’t know. You should see how Aurelia and I spar.” Because that was always amusing and they were always rather cutthroat with one another. “Or Ronin and I. I think I’m supposed to spar him back in Stormbreak when I go.” His lips purse a fraction as he considers it. “Though that, I imagine, won’t be a normal spar.” At least, not if he has his way with it.

As for Locke, though, he flashes a nod. “I did, yeah.” An easier smile crosses his face. “Sparred with him, too.” A wink is shot her way before he’s lifting the glass to his lips again.

SUNJATA

I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see

"Uhm, that's exactly what it means, Jata." Maeve snickers, tossing him a wink over her shoulder, "Let me guess... Ballroom? I was trained in ballet. Two very different things." She muses, crossing her arm over her stomach as she took another sip, cocking her head to the side as she looks over at him. Maeve sets her glass down, gathering her hair up with both of her hands to get it off of her neck.

It's a stretch and she knows it, but it makes him laugh so she'll take the small hit to her ego. Not that she really cares. Maeve manages to not make a face when he mentioned Aurelia. "Hey, I'm still learning. Plus, you and Ronin aren't even a fair comparison." She shakes her head at him, dropping her hair and taking up her glass again to sip at the cool water, letting it chase away the heat.

She's not really surprised that they met. Nor is she surprised that they sparred. He's been a touch restless since they got back. Part of it being her fault. They're doing better now and she's glad for that. "Was there any talking or mostly punching or..?" Maeve probes a little, arching a brow as she regards him over the rim of her glass.

They take my fingers in their mouths like it's poetry

Maeve

daydream about me, and i know that you hate the nights without me

“Mm, yeah, ballroom.” He comments with a heavy sigh, both playful and not. “Always hated those dances.” His nose wrinkles and he shakes his head, grimacing a fraction. “They’re always such big deals when they really don’t need to be.” He moves to fill her glass again, before he fills his own and he settles again with his arms braced against the counter again, facing her.

Still, a quiet laugh leaves him at her comment. “Still learning does not a champion make.” It’s an easy tease, simple banter that’s so easy to slip into, especially given his good mood. “Immediately, anyway.” He reaches up to rub at his neck in consideration, fingers running over a still healing bite as he does so, before it drops back to the glass.

As for Locke? “Some talking, some punching.” He offers with a crooked, playful smile. “I like him, though.” Not that he thinks it matters, but he feels the need to say it anyway. He doesn’t know Locke that well, but the guy seems kind of like him in some aspects, though seems to be a bit more rounded when it came to life skills – most notably, the whole cooking aspect, something Sunjata lacked in the highest degree. “Didn’t know you two were dating, though.” A raise of his brow with that as he considers her, lifting the glass to his lips again, but before he takes a sip he continues to speak. “Did it happen before or after the Halenani?” Can’t blame him for being curious if he was keeping her from Locke.

SUNJATA

I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see

"Ballroom isn't so bad. I can't say I ever went to a ball, though." Maeve admits, wrinkling her nose as she considers what exactly went into ballroom dancing. "I'm pretty good at it myself and I know that ballet isn't exactly laid back, but I find it to be a little less structured. At least when you're just dancing." It was one of her passions. Something she did often. Maeve takes up the glass again, sipping more slowly this time.

She hums softly, a quiet laugh of her own pushing past her lips, "You never know! I could be." Maeve shoots back and her grin falters slightly as her eyes follow the movement of his hand, but she hides it with a quick sip of water. The pang isn't sharp. Just a dull pulse in her chest and she takes a breath, pushing that feeling down. Thankfully it becomes easier as the conversation instead shifts to Locke.

Her smile comes unbidden, curling on her lips as she ducks her head, a slightly flush coloring her cheeks even if it is hidden by the pink that's already there thanks to the heat. "Yeah... I like him too." Maeve murmurs, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she shifts lightly on her feet. She would have to agree that they area bit similar, but incredibly different all at once. They weren't the same person and she felt the need to clarify that to herself even if she didn't voice it out loud. "Uhm.. We are." Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth as she looks over at him and Maeve clears her throat softly. "I met him during Longnight, but we weren't together. He left for Stormbreak a couple of weeks before the monsoons. It didn't really go anywhere until I went to stay with Remi and Ronin."

There had been letters. So many letters, but neither of them had admitted to anything. Both too scared to take the leap and put themselves out there. Leave it to him to be the braver of the two of them. "He takes care of me.." She's not sure why she bothers to add that last bit, but she does, chasing the words with a sip of water.

They take my fingers in their mouths like it's poetry

Maeve

daydream about me, and i know that you hate the nights without me

“Trust me when I say this, Maeve, but you didn’t miss out on anything.” He says with an air of confidence on that regard. He’d always hated how showy balls had become, how much flaunting there was, how many times he’d had to dance with other different noble ladies once he’d won his Trial, all biding for his hand. The memory of it, actually, does make him a bit nauseous to think about, and he stifles it quickly with another sip of water.

So instead, he hums a sound of agreement to her and the mention of ballet, before the conversation shifts toward championships of boxing rings and whether or not Maeve would be the next one – which sparks the idea of sparring tournaments, perhaps something that Torchline might enjoy, given how bloodthirsty and cutthroat the people tended to be. Perhaps a thought to consider later.

He notices the way she brightens at the mention of Locke and it fills him with ease, even as he asks his questions and awaits the answer. It isn’t that awkward on his end, all things considered. He doesn’t know the feelings Maeve held for him, nor does he think much of whether or not Locke and Maeve were dating at the time – after all, he’s married, and despite that, Sunjata’s coping mechanisms had landed him with her all the same.

“I’m happy for you. I hope it works out for you, too.” He says, flashing her an easier smile – a content one, glad that she’s found her person just as Sunjata had his. “Sometimes that’s the majority of what you need.” He comments offhandedly, smiling despite it. After all, Nate had often taken care of the attuned in more ways than one.

He downs the rest of the water and lets it settle, before he’s stretching out his arms again, a small splotching of red around his middle where Safrin’s tattoo sits and the still scabbed mark etched into his skin from her punch from earlier become visible as he works the muscles in his arms. “You want a few more minutes to relax or do you want to move onto the punching bags?”

SUNJATA

I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see

He doesn't know of her now fading feelings and Maeve never plans to tell him. It's for the best. They didn't need that added strain. Not when there was already so much in the world that could threaten their friendship. No, Maeve would take that to her grave and she wouldn't regret it. Especially not now that Locke was involved. She had picked him and she wasn't changing her mind. While what she did with Sunjata hadn't been work like Nate implied, it wasn't anything more than a distraction for both of them. She knows that. Even if her distraction morphed into something a bit prettier in her head. The longer she sits with those feelings the more she believe she was in love with the way he made her feel even if a part of her did love him and probably always would.

"Thanks... I hope so too. We're still figuring it out, but it's good. I'm glad he's home." Maeve admits, finishing the last of her water and setting her glass back down, letting it settle in her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to throw it all back up by pushing too soon after drinking. "Yeah, I don't usually get that, you know? Not in my line of work. It's always what people want from me or how good I can make them feel. I've never just been a whore to him." It's the first time she's said it out loud and probably the first time she believes it. Their relationship is so much more than that.

Maeve rolls her shoulders, warming her muscles back up after they had a chance to relax and cool off, "We can move on. I'm sure there is plenty more to show me." She replies easily, pushing away from the counter and following him towards the bags. It's cooler over here. The breeze coming in off the sea helping to chase the heat away and cool the sweat on her skin.

They take my fingers in their mouths like it's poetry

Maeve

daydream about me, and i know that you hate the nights without me

“I’m glad he’s there for you.” He replies swiftly, easily, relaxing as the water swirls through him and rehydrates him. “I can’t understand entirely, but I can to some extent.” There’s a softer, almost sad tinged smile that crosses his face with that. He didn’t know what it was like to be a worker in her line of work, to be wanted for things like that. But he did know what it was like to be a pawn for an entire land, to have fake friendships all in the name of tearing him down, to be pawned off in marriage for the ‘greater good’ even when it was anything but, given his father’s puppet strings.

But that’s neither here nor there. And it was at this point, a very long time ago, even if some things remained the same.

So Sunjata stretches out, nods as she agrees to the bags and moves toward the punching bags with her – the breeze from the ocean is salty and cool and it works wonders at the splotching of red along his skin, the sweat that’s coated the tanned, bronze expanse of his body. “Alright, so we’ll start you off on the lighter bags since you’re getting used to it.” He offers, guiding her to one of the lighter weight bags. “You want to start off slow, we’ll go for five minutes.” And then he can show her what it’s like once you build up your abilities a bit more. “Take up your stance like you usually do, but make sure when you strike you’re striking with your index and middle fingers first. And keep your wrists straight and elbows tight.” He pauses, moving around to the back of the bag so he can brace it, waiting for her to start.

SUNJATA

I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see

Maeve pulls a leather cord from her wrist, using it to tie up her hair as she approaches the bags. She stretches out her muscles, rotating her wrists a few times before shifting into the same stance as before, "Okay, got it." Maeve's brows knit together and she makes sure that her thumb isn't tucked beneath her fingers, keeping her wrist straight as well as her elbows tight against her sides. She tries a few jabs with her right hand, quick and light as she shifts her footing before trying with her left hand next. It isn't as strong, but it still hits straight, making the bag sway slightly as Sunjata braces it for her.

Sweat begins to bead on her brow, making her hair stick to her temples and the nape of her neck as her skin flushes pink from exertion. Maeve shifts back and forth, trying to work out each side equally.

They take my fingers in their mouths like it's poetry

Maeve

daydream about me, and i know that you hate the nights without me

He offers his instruction and moves behind the lighter punching bag, hands braced out for it for when it swings back. And she takes to it easily, surprisingly so, alternating hands even. “Good.” He comments offhandedly, watching her with a studious narrowing of his gaze to follow her form, to make sure she was extending as she needed to and not overextending or underextending. “Keep your footing flat and rooted.” He offers the help quietly, waiting a few more paces. “Elbows tight.” Another quiet help, until she’s managed to get the hang of it.

The five minutes go by quickly, though, and he steps back from the bag with a smile casting down to her. “Go ahead and grab a bit more water. It’s my turn.” He flashes a wink her way, moving over to the larger, heavier punching bag, pausing to make sure his wraps are in place and not ready to slip off. And he waits a few more moments, steadying himself, because boxing had always been a way for him to work through his issues if he wasn’t otherwise occupied. A therapy of sorts. A meditation, as it were.

So once he’s exhaled a long and slow exhale, he focuses on his bag, realizing that he’d be showing her just how much he’d toned it all down to help train her – because he’s light on his feet, a constant movement. A strike and withdraw, a dance backwards before darting forward to hit the bag with his elbow, swinging it toward the left where he strikes out with that hand for a punch and sends the bag spiraling again, but already he’s moved backwards, sand kicked up as he continues to move and wait for the bag to even out a fraction before he heads toward it again.

SUNJATA

I get them all worked up and down on their knees, you see

Each note is taken seriously and adjustments are made. Maeve has taken to this surprisingly well. It isn't all that unlike dancing. there are differences. The movements aren't the same, but the similarities make it feel like second nature to the Madame in some respects. By the time the five minutes are up her arms are tired and aching, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breathing as her pulse hammers in her ears. She wipes away the sweat, bracing her hands against her knees for as she sucks in greedy breaths, willing her heart to slow before she straightens up with a nod. "More water.." Maeve mutters mostly to herself, giving him a little smile as he tosses her that wink and for once it doesn't bring a flush instantly to her cheeks.

She refills her glass, drinking deeply before topping it back off and joining him once more to watch him work. It's impressive. She'll give him that much. Maeve has seen him fight before. She watched the trial, but there is something to be said abut the way he moves. It's almost hypnotic and she finds herself quiet as she watches him strike over and over again. Maeve knew he was taking it easy on her and she's really not all that shocked to see what he's capable of. "Well now you're just showing off."

They take my fingers in their mouths like it's poetry

Maeve

daydream about me, and i know that you hate the nights without me

She departs for the water and he begins to work through a combination of working his muscles, of cleansing his mind, of working off the way he’d held himself back for their training that had made his arms begin to ache. And when she returns and remains silent, until her quip is aired, Sunjata’s already panting at this point, sweat beading along his temples, the glittering sheen of it across tattooed skin as he continues to work the bag as he always had before.

“Of course I’m showing off.” He pants, pausing to flash her a grin. “It’s also my usual work out, though.” So a bit of both, a bit more flare for something he tended to do when he worked out anyway – he doesn’t think anyone cares. He certainly doesn’t. But once the last punch is thrown and his body’s flushed with the exertion, only then does he step forward to stop the bag from careening back entirely. It hits his arms and he braces against the heaviness of it, setting it back straight before he’s walking back to the kitchenette to grab his glass of water and a pitcher, before he returns to where Maeve remains.

He takes a long slow sip, trying to regain his breathing, before his gaze scans her again – this time a bit more critically as he checks to make sure she’s alright. “How’s your hand?”

SUNJATA