[Training] so i guess all the rumors are true

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

Maeve rolls her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she takes another sip of her water, "It's also my usual workout, though." She mimics his accent, pitching her voice down into something deeper and grinning up at him as a spark of mischievousness lights up her eyes as she teases him. Maeve watches him throw the last punch, stopping the bag from swinging wildly after he finally finishes his workout, eyes roving over his form for only a moment. She leans against the side of the ring, sighing softly as the exhaustion seems to settle heavy in her bones from physical exertion.

It isn't until he brings up her hand that she notices the throbbing pain, the slight sting beneath her bandages. Maeve looks down, flexing her fingers and wincing as pain flares through her hand, noticing the faintest bit of red bleeding through the wraps. "Uh, perhaps a bit more fucked up than I realized." Maeve huffs, setting her glass down and starting to unravel the wraps from around her hand, trying to keep from fidgeting as his eyes run over her.

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 mimics him and a bark of laughter leaves him through the workout, chest rising and heaving with his workout until he’s done. “It’s true!” He protests, flashing a crooked smile back her way before he shakes his head as he grabs the water, drinking down a fair amount of it, his attention drawn suddenly to her hand when he asks about it. And he promptly sits on a stool he pulls up, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees.

He begins to peel the wraps from his own hands as he scans her, trying to make sure that everything else was okay and it was only her hand that was a bit messed up. He moves to go and grab a first aid kit, one of the many that Nate ensured was stocked and ready to go within the Slagveld. And when he returns, he settles on the stool again, gesturing for her to come to him. “Let’s take a look.” He offers her, his accent still thick as he still works to catch his breath. The first aid kit is opened on his lap and he focuses on pulling out bandages and things to clean the wound and ensure it won’t get infected, while he waits for her to offer her hand to him.

SUNJATA

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

Maeve doesn't hesitate approaching him this time and she easily crosses the distance between them, coming to a stop just between his legs and dropping to her knees so she doesn't have to stoop. It's perhaps a bit of a strange position, but she didn't see another stool to grab and she didn't plan on standing while he took a look at her hand. She holds it out to him, letting him finish unwrapping it to reveal the busted skin beneath. Her pale skin already tinged purple and red with the bruising, some dried blood staining her knuckles even as more oozes freshly from the gashes on her knuckles. Maeve winces, face screwing up as the pain flares through her hand, seeming to pulse with every gush of blood and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Guess I'm a bit thin skinned." She attempts to joke, huffing out a shaky laugh that's edged with discomfort as she flicks her eyes up to him. That serious look of concentration is back on his features, but this time it's focused on her hand and not her words. That makes it better somehow.

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 waits for her to approach him while he opens the first aid kit, pulling out new bandages and some cleaning supplies – recalling one of the last times he’d had to use one of these, he’d been overtly emotional, having sparred with Nate, having… A conversational theraputic moment that resulted in an engagement, in Nate’s hand when he had sliced the scar into it and Nate had recited those backwards, traditional vows. Back before when it was difficult to acknowledge the fact that they had feelings. At least this time his hands are steady when he reaches for Maeve’s hand, surprise flickering across his face as she kneels between his legs.

He bypasses it to focus on her knuckles, her joke rousing a snort from him as he grabs a bit of the gauze with the cleaning solution on it. “It’s going to sting.” He comments to her, moving to clean up the blood and blot at the wound, making sure it’s clean of anything that could cause an infection, before he’s grabbing a clean bit of gauze to press to her knuckles to try and stop the bleeding, trying to let it clot before he goes to wrap it. “It miiiight leave a scar.” Humming, his voice edges toward a bit of a singsong tone with it, before he’s letting the smile linger on his face.

SUNJATA

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

Maeve lets her hand relax in his grip as he prepares to clean her knuckles and she tries to think back to a time that she's ever been in this position. It's not often that she finds herself having to patched up like this, but then again she doesn't normally spend her time punching things. She smiles up at him, wrinkling her nose, "Is it? I had no idea." Maeve shoots back and her smile falters as he presses the soaked gauze to her bloody knuckles and a hiss pushes past her teeth as she tenses. "Fuck." The word catches her off guard as it falls off her tongue and her cheeks flush as she shifts a bit. "Yeah, no... That fucking stings." It felt like fire searing into the cuts, cleaning them out thoroughly of any risk of infection.

She lifts her brows in faux surprise, gasping, "A scar? I honestly think that will be one of three scars on my person." Maeve laughs, shaking her head as her eyes drop down to where he's pressing the gauze to her knuckles. The bleeding is starting to slow and soon he'll be able to properly dress it.

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’s ready to offer his own quick response to her comment, but finds that he doesn’t have to as he presses the gauze to her wound. The resounding curse and the way she’s taken suddenly off guard has Sunjata unable to keep the slight lift of a smirk from his face, the stormy grey of his gaze scanning her face before dropping back to her knuckles, continuing to clean it up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He rumbles in an almost singsong, nonchalant tone.

Once he’s done, though, he’s pressing clean gauze to it to staunch the bleeding, waiting as it slows. “Oh good, you have so little of them you have stories for all of them.” His gaze lifts back to her face, a dark brow raising as if daring her to challenge him on it. Once the bleeding has stopped, though, he moves to grab the bandages and a bit more gauze to start dressing the wound. “Once you reach the amount I have, you tend to have favorites.” He rumbles with an almost knowing tone to his voice.

“But, I’ve got stories for all of them. Each one a bit more fucked up than the last.” It’s truthful as it drops from his lips, but it’s also heavily coated in amusement. He can recall the stories of all the scars he can see, even if it takes a second to remember just when he’d gotten them. The most notable one, though, might be the compass tattoos. The way the one on the right is very obviously inked over the long scar that snakes from behind his ear, down his neck, to the top of his chest.

SUNJATA

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

Maeve rolls her eyes at him, even going so far as to stick out her tongue, managing to find her sass despite her discomfort, "Alright, smart ass. Why don't you pay attention to the task at hand, yeah?" She shoots back, shaking her head at him, but remaining still otherwise, knowing better than to fidget too much lest she wanted it to take longer. The stinging slowly subsides as does the bleeding, no longer soaking through the gauze that he holds against her skin as it starts to clot on its own.

"Is that your way of asking for the stories? I promise they aren't all that exciting." She says with a soft laugh, shifting to get more comfortable as he tends to her hand, dabbing gently at the cuts on her knuckles. Maeve arches her own brow to match his, head cocking to the side, "You know, I don't think we ever really talked that much about your scars. I know how you got some of them and saw you get one of them, but they never really came up." Likely because they were trying to distract him from those things. The physical and emotional scars that people so easily left behind on his person hadn't been something either of them wanted to dwell on.

She hums softly, a smirk curling on her lips as she meets his steel gaze with her own sea glass eyes, "Well that's just the rule isn't it? Not allowed to have scars unless they come with trauma." Maeve quips, another laugh bubbling up in her chest as she starts to dress her hand. She lifts her opposite hand, flashing him her wrist where there are a myriad of silvery marks that are clearly bites from Ascended, "This is where my callers are allowed to bite. They're all just muddled together at this point, but it's easier that way." Next she tilts her head to the side, drawing the few wisps of hair that have come loose from her bun away from her throat, "This one is from Adam." She trails a finger just below the other set of scars that he left behind from their time together before she points to the faint scar towards her right temple that's usually hidden beneath curls.

"This one happened when I was up by Wishtide. Some of the vines wrapped around my ankle and pulled me into the water. Hit my head on a rock. That was right before the Wilds decided to spit me out in the fucking Feverlands in a literal pit of tar. Don't think I told you about that either." A faint smile curls on her lips as she wiggles her fingers of the hand he's currently doctoring, "And if I get a scar from this... You know how it happened already."

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

“Oh I am paying attention.” He assures her with another flash of a charming, roguish grin — certainly falling into the smart ass category. But the wound begins to clot and he focuses on that as he begins to get the gauze and the wrapping ready, humming a soft laugh of agreement, but listening to the stories nonetheless.

As for his stories of his scars? She quips that she saw him get one of them and he nods quietly, lips pursing a fraction as it tugs on the scarred skin of his cheek, but he doesn’t comment on that one so much as listening for her three specific scar stories. He dresses her wounds and she shows him the Ascended bite scars, which brings a rumble of amusement from Sunjata in the form of a snort. But his gaze rises to her neck at the ascended bites there, a brow raising as she mentions Adam. “Huh.” He says unhelpfully, unsure where to go with that.

What about Peter? Perhaps that’s a thought for another time (and he’ll get the fill in from the Ascended on the way to the Grounds shortly).

The wishtide has him nodding along, followed by another hum of consideration as he finishes wrapping her hand and moves to close up the first aid kit. “Stories are stories, boring or not.” He says idly, setting the first aid kit on the ground beside the stool he sits on, before he leans toward her to brace his elbows on his knees.

“The one to my face is the one I assume you saw, yeah?” A brow raises with a small smirk crossing his face. “Wasn’t the only one he gave me.” His lightning scarred hand rises to the right side of his neck where that long scar snakes down. “I got this one in Korofi. I was on the run for a while and I got captured with my girlfriend at the time. He killed her and when I retaliated from it, he gave me this one.” He pauses to tilt his head, this way and that, so that the compasses on either side are quite visible with the northern point aimed right at her from where she kneels. “It’s why I got the compass tattoos, actually.”

SUNJATA

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

Unlike him, her neck isn't covered in scars from Ascended. Just the one. The only person she's ever let bite her there is Adam. Maeve shrugs her shoulders as he acknowledges the scar on her throat, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. "Happened before the monsoons. We went on a little trip." She doesn't know that he's unaware of the way things have gone with Pet and Adam. That she was just as much of a distraction for Adam as she had been for him. Without the extra complications.

Maeve stays still as he bandages up her hand, not surprised with the care he takes in delicately wrapping the wound. Despite his size, Maeve knows him to be gentle and she trusts him to handle her with care. He always has. At least physically. Finally he finishes, closing up the first aid kit and letting her have her hand back. Her brows raise as he braces his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to her and for a moment her heart picks up, rabbiting in her chest as she draws in a breath. They're only a few inches apart now and she finds her gaze locking with his despite herself.

"At the trial, yes." She murmurs, licking her lips, dropping her gaze to follow the scar he traces. How many times had she kissed that skin? Run her tongue across that scar and tattoo? A soft sound rises in her throat and her fingers twitch, the sudden urge to reach up and run her fingertips across the skin strong, "You weren't kidding when you said each one had to be a little more fucked up than the last, huh?" Maeve muses, shaking her head as she examines the tattoo all that more closely.

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

The Wilds were aptly named, he’s found. Wild and a bit insane at times – recalling the mist horse that Aurelia had decided to ride and in turn causing the Flood to try and rescue her. He’d been successful in that endeavor, but it still left time for them to argue over it, before the terror of that whole ordeal wore off. As it were, now, though… He leans forward, closer to her, elbows braced on each knee, his stormy gaze locking with hers as he explains one of the first types of scars he’d gotten from his father.

He knows she likely didn’t know the cause of it in those times that they’d been together, but Sunjata’s often kept most of those stories close to his chest – a need to know basis, if only to try and protect himself in the long run. But in a way, perhaps telling Maeve the stories of them would help her better understand the way the Attuned clung to things that mattered to him, why he tried his best to keep his cards close to his chest, else he’d spiral completely out of control.

“Oh, I wasn’t kidding.” Sunjata rumbles with a playful smile – tinged a fraction with a hint of sadness. His chin lifts so that she might inspect it better as he takes a deep breath to continue. “When I got away the second time, with my sister this time, we went to a neighboring country and I got my compass tattoos. I got them because I had always faced Lusea like she was my northern star and that is why the northern point of the compasses point straight in front of me.” In this current instance? They point right at Maeve. “She came to Caido shortly after I did, after she died in Korofi. At least, until she had an unfortunate run in with some Frost Giants in Halo and I lost her again.” There’s a shadow to his gaze for a brief moment, before he’s blinking it away and he leans back a fraction, moving to the scar on his left shoulder, hidden by a few pieces of ink that’s been redone, but still there nonetheless.

“A few years ago something called the Blight came around and infected… A lot of people, myself included. And Phoebe, actually. She attacked me, left me with this scar.” Then moving to the opposite shoulder where a burn scar had taken out a few feathers of ink, marred and blocked with what appeared to be tentacles, he begins to explain that one too. “This one was from after Apopo blew and we had to clear out Rae’s Fingers. Killed a giant lava octopus. I don’t recommend it.” This is said with a twinge of humor, a twinkle of amusement that crosses through the storms of his eyes.

But then, as if considering her and the rest of the scars he hadn’t explained, he opens his arms quite wide, showing off the rest of them for her to choose between. The two marring scars on his sides, the slice along his right palm, the lightning scars that danced up his right half, the myriad of Ascended scars along wrists and his neck and chest, the crescent shaped shark bites that littered his legs and hips - peeking out from under his pants, the newest one in the scratched shape of NW, and the puncture wound that sat, puckered above his left hip. "Take your pick."

SUNJATA

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

Maeve listens to his stories closely, eyes flicking from between his gaze and whichever scar he's focusing on at the time. Her brows are drawn together, bottom lip caught firmly between her teeth as she tries to sort through the feelings each story brings up. Maeve lets out a breath, shaking her head, "You've been through way more than me. I can say that much." She murmurs softly as if they both aren't aware that his life has been harder than hers in various ways. Maeve knows that him sharing this is special in a way. Not that he's secretive about his past, but some parts of his story are better to keep quiet until the appropriate time.

He presents himself to her, spreading his arms wide and inviting her to examine every inch of his skin. Maeve ignores the NW, not needing to know about that and not caring to have Nate's name brought up again. Not when they've finally shifted into something easier to manage. Instead she purses her lips, head tilting to the side as her fingers lift finally reach forward, skating across the shark bite on his hip. "Tell me about this one." Maeve requests lightly, thumb brushing across the curve of the scar before her hand falls back down to her side once more.

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 has been through a lot, and the Korofian within him has still had it ingrained into his brain that scars told a story – something to wear proudly, not unlike tattoos (despite the fact the nobility of Korofi weren’t allowed such things, something Sunjata had broken immediately). It was something that showed just how much of a survivor one was – and Sunjata was nothing if he wasn’t a survivor.

But he doesn’t expect her to reach forward and brush her thumb along one of the crescent marks along his skin, and he watches as her hand withdraws, before his head is tilting toward it, before he’s extending a leg that also bears the same scars. “A little over two years ago I was on a date with Maea.” He begins, finding it surprisingly easy to recall it. “Before she died and came back Ascended, but, anyway.” He seems to stare at the scars, pursing his lips a brief moment. “We went swimming out by the islands. Found some pearls. She accidentally cut her hand and we were swarmed by sharks. I shifted to my orca shift and we got out, but it wasn’t without them taking quite a few bites.” His gaze lifts to meet her face again. “I blacked out on the beach and one of the healers off the coast helped fix me up. I got… Pretty sick from it.” He manages a quiet laugh, before he’s shaking his head.

“It covers basically my entire lower half and some of my back.” It was one of the biggest scars he had, the little bits and pieces pulled out of his skin, a pale white against the bronze of the rest of his skin. “You’ve seen it.” He offers with a crooked smile, pushing past it to launch into the next explanation. “The scar on the left side, this one…” He gestures to the swiped claws alongside his side. “Mm, Deimos, now the General of Halo but at the time he was the General of the Grounds, blamed me for a quest for Safrin that went wrong back when I lived in the Grounds. He gave me this one in a ‘hunt’.” He scratches at his stubbled cheek before huffing a small sound, before he’s focusing on her again. “What next?” He asks easily.

SUNJATA

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

The movement surprised both of them. Maeve wasn't really thinking about it when she did it. What it meant. It was merely an urge that she followed, a small indulgence because there would likely be no more after this. She doesn't think it would be wise for either of them. Maeve listens to each word he says, hanging onto all of them with bated breath as he explains how he got the shark bites and then some, giving her more than she asked for. Maeve hums softly as he finishes his explanations, eyes widening a fraction when he mentions Deimos, explaining where those scars came from and how the man was responsible for two different attacks to his person. "My if your skin doesn't tell a story." Maeve teases, huffing a soft laugh as she smiles up at him, shifting in her spot to get more comfortable.

"You don't have to indulge me further, Jata. At this rate we'll be here all afternoon." She shifts back onto her palms, straightening her legs to stretch herself out, flexing her toes to stretch out her hamstrings. Maeve flops onto her back after a moment, simply breathing deeply as her body continues to rest.

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

“Almost too many.” He agrees with a half amused, half wry smile. But the Flood shakes his head after a moment, a soft laugh leaving him as she tells him he doesn’t have to indulge her further. Still, the comment has him shrugging a scarred, tattooed shoulder. “Well my plans for the day were spending the afternoon here, so.” An amused smile is sent her way before he’s nodding and she’s leaning back to stretch out and rest further.

Sunjata, meanwhile, stands from the stool – lifting it and setting it back where it belonged, before he’s stretching himself out, arms raised above his head to the point where he might be able to let his fingertips touch the ceiling – constantly forgetting how tall he is. But he huffs a soft sigh as he lowers his arms, runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, also, the quest for monsoon protection is done.” He pauses, casting his gaze over toward her on the floor. “I’m going to turn it in when I get a chance to.” Perhaps she’d read between the lines and see that he means that Haulani might be safe next year from the destruction of the monsoons.

SUNJATA