[Training] [se] articulate frenzy

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

After spending time with Nate, some portion of her soul was in no rush to return to the sea. Instead, the need, the itch, to wander pulsed and pervaded, and so with bag in hand, weapons over her shoulder, Melita and Fangorn began to navigate the world of King’s End.

The morning was as lush as the fields before her – beautiful and unwinding, flowers blooming, and something in her heart ached. Clementine would’ve loved this part of the world – wide and unyielding, seemingly never-ending, giving way from rolling hills and furtive barrows, to stretches of endlessness, where she could’ve bound their way by singing, by dancing, by exploring.

So she bent her head and sang one of their songs – a bright, cheerful tune they might’ve snagged from their mother at some other interval – gathering all those thoughts and placing them in a chord she’d never be able to replicate. Not gentle enough, not harmonious enough, but the vampire gourd bobbed in step to it, and by the end, through distraction (nothing of war, nothing of sorrow, nothing of the world falling apart from above and below and everywhere in between), they’d arrived at some lingering set of stairs.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, especially with the way it seemed to stretch and reach upwards, then cease entirely. She shrugged, no use in speculation to another creature who wouldn’t have the answers either – and instead, sitting on one of the first few stone steps, and beginning to rifle through her satchel.

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

He’d been gone when Melita was visiting – though likely not for the reason they honeybee youth thought. The house was full of people now and food was something that disappeared quickly, and without having Haai to go and hunt while Sunjata could remain, a portion of it fell onto the Attuned to use his shifts and go out and retrieve it. Which is fine, he doesn’t mind in all honesty. It gives him a focus, a purpose for the time, something to do that wasn’t wallowing in his own misery, in the void of losing Haai that he succumbed to time and time again.

For now, though, he’s a dragon overhead, a rather large wild cow clutched between his claws. He spies a shock of red hair sitting along the bottom of the Last Steps so of course he circles and lowers out of pure curiosity, and when he realizes it’s his niece, he lowers himself fully a bit off to the side to set the cow down before shifting into himself to approach her. “Hey Melita.” He rumbles in quiet greeting, a nod of his head, a sparkle of something that’s a cross between apprehension and curiosity in his gaze as it drifts from her up the stairs.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

Fangorn, as usual, was the first to spot the dragon. A few low grumbles as he bobbed around the stone steps made Melita’s eyes narrow, and then glance upward, where the dangling vines outstretched. She recognized her uncle instantly, and wasn’t even truly bothered by the state of the cow – just his presence.

Something rankled through her shoulders, down the length of her spine, leaving it an unsettled, untethered emotion. Flickering there, like distant flames, waiting for the right word, the right instance, to crackle against the kindling. But she would try to be civil, at least for Nate’s sake, and withheld whatever biting tone yearned to flare behind her teeth. “Hey,” she offered in response, a shrug flowing through her when nothing else seemed able to. In need of movement, her hands persisted through her bag, snatching at a few snacks from the market she’d meant to leave with Nate; but in all events, had forgotten.

She ducked her head, digging around, figuring it’d be a decent focal point, and less dangerous than anything else they could comment on. “I was visiting earlier. Meant to leave these for Haai.” Then she drew out a couple little jerkies, probably made from Hels, intending to toss them over to him.

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

So far it isn’t as bad as he’d imagined – no arguments, no I don’t want to see you, no anything other than a simple hey that has his shoulders relaxing for a fraction, despite the fact how it absolutely doesn’t last when she digs around in her bag. He approaches easily, keeping some amount of space between them, tension thick in the air as his tired steel gaze focuses on his niece.

She digs around in the bag and he’s curious what she’s going to pull out – whether it be something shiny, some collection of rocks (a reminder of the time he’d seen her give a brilliant collection to Safrin that day in Halo that felt like a lifetime ago), but no. It’s something terrible, something that she doesn’t know and it isn’t truly her fault, because he’d been too stuck in his own head to reach out and inform her of what had happened.

Though a part of him had hoped Nate might have shared the news, though only because it would’ve prevented yet another stabbing pain to his heart. He takes them, catching them, before he twists them around, the Attuned suddenly pale as he steps forward to hand them back to her. “I heard you were visiting. I didn’t anticipate being gone so long.” It’s quieter, rougher, something more somber and heartbreaking entering his voice. “You can keep these. Haai… She’s, uh…” He stares hard at the jerkies in his hand, shadows crossing his gaze. “Not here anymore.”

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

There was something going on. Which always seemed to be the case – and it touched over her wildfire throes with a vicious vengeance, forcing her to trace over what irked and exasperated into smaller flames, dousing cinders, breaking apart the coals. Maybe she’d lost the ability to talk to him after so many intervals of time, space, confusion, and disharmony; never truly understanding the ins, the outs, the whys of his actions. Maybe her sense of reason and his semblance of justifications never measured in parallels, and it stuck out more and more as time wove and wore on.

She didn’t understand though, and the confusion was a palpable thing, marked by the crease in her brows, the tilt of her head, the edge of her mouth drawn into a frown. The snacks and treats, to be shared and adored to a creature she’d cherished just as much as her own, were tossed back. She caught them unceremoniously, listening to the bag crinkle, watching as they settled back into her palm. “Oh,” was a quiet thing, dull and muted, lifeless and stark. “I figured you just didn’t want to see me,” and that was the blunted edge of it. Perhaps she couldn’t blame him. Perhaps she always would. It was difficult to parse through, and not any easier now.

Her fingers pressed, then closed, around the objects, while Fangorn’s vines reached for them, eager to be indulged where he didn’t understand. It took her a few moments, a few key seconds where she spun herself into silence and watched, listened for the matters left unsaid. Haai - not here anymore - gone. And Melita felt that lurch of her heart, the brief panic, the notions of losing another begin to quicken her pulse. “Where is she now, then?”

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

He should have thought to tell her, given the fact that Melita had been there when he’d found the griffin. When they’d emerged from a long, bloody, and dark LongNight only to find a left behind egg. But alas, he’d been broken again, cracked a few too many times, just enough to be able to patch up the pieces to appear whole, but anything would slip through the cracks. And so he’d try to patch it up by shoving himself into Nate and putting the house together, into rescuing and raising the twins, anything to stop prodding at the open wound like a tongue pokes a split in a lip.

But time and time again it comes back to kick him in the ass. Especially now when he struggles with his words and Melita doesn’t understand. There’s a frown that tugs at the corner of his lips, his head shaking. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.” He admits quietly, unsure how to cross the difference between conversations, of wanting to see one another versus the loss of a piece of ones soul.

So he goes for honesty, moving closer now to sit on the bottom step with Melita and Fangorn, only so they don’t have to meet eye to eye when it falls from his lips. “We went out to get a relic with Remi and Ronin and I couldn’t get Haai out in time.” Here he can feel his anxiety and heartbreak spike again, the wound flaring in his chest again, poking and prodding. His hand rises to his chest, to rub against the brief bit of scarring above the tattoo from Safrin. “Nate and I… We buried her by the house.”

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

She didn’t have an answer for him at first. Something in her didn’t want to yield, likely pride, emboldened fixtures where she still raged for those crossed and marred by him. It stuck to her jaw and clung along her shoulders, where they remained taut and rigid, bothered by sentiments she couldn’t name. And now there were other proportions – like a wavering plague of loss, loss, loss, all over again.

So she withheld the biting nooses strangling over her tongue, the embittered, clustered, coiled ropes needling and nettling at her teeth; listening as he shifted closer. Her gaze went to the ground, to the long, wavering grass as the wind swept between them and the endless field, to Fangorn’s little vines wrapping around the jerky in her hand, prying it all apart for him when the news fell. “Poor Haai,” she murmured for lack of better words; the noble griffin who’d always helped, who Melita had gone after in one of the many gods damned fires, who’d showed her tact and abilities time and time again.

Another sacrifice that didn’t have to happen. “Sorry,” she offered thereafter, softly, threads of a whisper, for lack of anything better to say. No why did you bring her in there when they both knew the companion probably would have anyway, regardless of demands and commands. “I’ll put something there when I go back through.” Better than bits of food and treats she couldn’t have any longer.

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

He nods his agreement to her sentiment – poor Haai – because that’s what it was. It was terrible, a tragedy, something Sunjata had never hoped to have occur in his life, hoping that perhaps it might be opposite and that she’d be free to disappear and go off to find her own flock. But the cards didn’t fall that way and Sunjata was left picking up the pieces yet again, piecing himself together in some semblance of a man that he was only maybe a quarter of.

She apologizes and he ducks his head, arms crossing as his lightning scarred hand rubs against the bicep of his other arm. “She would like that.” He offers quietly, unhelpfully. “I saved a few feathers from her. Some of them I used for a memorial of sorts… But I have extra if you want one.” He offers her, lifting his head to let his steel gaze scan her face, unsure of whether or not it’s something she wants to remember the griffin by.

As it were, though, regardless of what Melita chooses to do, Sunjata moves to stand again and stretch out his arm, working his jaw as he thinks about things a bit more. “I’ve been trying to train lately to get used to not having her to fall back on.” And it’s been hard, truthfully, but that’s what training was for wasn’t it? “Was thinking about making a little training ring nearby the house if you wanted a place to practice when you come to visit.” And for himself and Nate, of course.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

The offer was unexpected; shown in the depths of her raised brows and widened eyes, before they flickered downward again. “Sure.” She’d find a way to honor the companion – in armaments, in angles upon her arrows, in pieces and places where the memories wouldn’t fade. Emblazoned fire and scorching decibels, traces of flames and embers, multitudes of emblems and banners fit for a loyal creature.

Her head tilted in the other movements and motions though, vaguely watching as Fangorn finished off the jerky. “What kind of training?” If it was a hint that she was intrigued, she’d let it remain as such – though they both knew her best abilities laid in haphazard targets stacked by rocks and various tree limbs; just a place, a figment, to sharpen her skills. It’d been a long while since they’d trained together – not since before heated arguments and integral alterations, changes, that had embittered both to some degree. Melita wasn’t even certain what he’d been striving for lately – other than repose and peace from the past, and incoming, maelstroms.

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

Her surprise is met with ease of his own – after all, she’d loved the griffin just as much as Nate and he had, was around for nearly everything that had occurred to the Flood. It’s truly the least he could do. “They’re yours.” He offers easily, before he’s standing and stretching and trying to alleviate the void within him, distracting himself in the form of training and trying to get better at not relying so heavily on the parts of him that could be taken away.

“Mostly hand to hand or ranged. I’ve trained a lot in my shifts but without Haai I want to make sure I can still fight without relying on the parts of me that can be taken away.” He casts a glance back toward her – an unsaid worry hidden in his words, a fear of pissing off Safrin when he likely denies her demigod offering that results in a retaliation of losing his shifts. He doesn’t want to be left helpless.

He turns to face her, offering a small smile, trying to be as open with her as he had back in the day, before he’d gone and ruined everything. “Do you want to train with me right now? We can figure out the details on the training ring later?”

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

Her brows furrowed at the insistent of something else, in between lines, and then the overt measures of things to lose, a taking away. And something told her it wasn’t just Haai. Was there trouble brewing elsewhere? Sunjata was prone to his paranoia, some justified, others confusing, and maybe she hadn’t been in the loop enough to understand or consider the weight of other machinations and measures plucked off. “What do you mean? Why would you lose your shifts?” They’d been a part of him for as long as she’d known him – varieties, blends, purposeful, meaningful, an attachment and adornment to his soul. Had she ever heard of anyone being stripped from those portions?

She didn’t need to wonder what it would do to him.

Swallowing down some other measure of emotion she couldn’t, didn’t, name, the honeybee took to the offer of training instead. Rising from the stone, and brushing away any dust from her fabric, her gilded gaze snapped back to his. “Sure.” If only because it’d be an opportunity to physically kick his ass. “Weapons or fists?”

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

Why would he lose his shifts? It’s a good question and it has him figuring out how to utter the words outloud – though the more it runs through his head, the more ridiculous it had sounded. Of course, however, Ronin’s input had only added to his paranoia. “Safrin asked me to be her demigod. I’m inclined to say no but… I’m worried about what denying it might bring.” Granted it wouldn’t be smart right now with war on the horizon, would it? “And since she attuned me, she could take it away.” And so he has to be prepared for the just in case.

She rises from the stone, though, and agrees to train with him and it feels like a breath of relief that enters his tight chest, like his lungs are finally expanding. “Which would you prefer?” He asks her instead, given the fact that he doesn’t have any weapons on him aside from the carving knife he held for the cow he’d taken.

He waits for her to make her choice and to make the first move, though, readying himself with just his fists regardless if she has a weapon or not.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

Whatever the honeybee had been expecting for a round of explanations, that hadn’t been it. Her eyes widened briefly, thoughts multiplying and rampaging towards her tongue before she could even cease and desist. “I’m surprised you’d say no…after everything.” Or maybe that was the reason the denial spurned; between a multitude of circumstances the latest propositions with the goddess had rendered. Melita hadn’t known him to ever reject the starry deity. “Is it because of Nate?” And his demigod status with the Voice? Or everything else altogether?

The potential for losing his shifts eventually dawned too, and the youth furrowed her brows, glaring at the grass below her feet, at the stones and the way they twisted and turned back into the air. “Well, whatever you decide, hopefully she’ll understand.” And not bludgeon him entirely. Or maybe he deserved it. She didn't know anymore.

And as for the training, the multitudes brimming behind her eyes curled and coiled without a single hesitation. “Fists.” As soon as the proclamation rambled, she dropped her bag near the steps – Fangorn snagged and grabbed – reeled back her fist, pushed forward swiftly, and aimed directly for his face.

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

It arises a small snort from the Attuned, a nod and a sigh of understanding. “Somewhat.” He admits, whether it’s because of Nate. It’s not for the reasons she thinks, though, not entirely. “I’ve learned to not make life altering decisions when I haven’t talked to Nate about it. So I asked her for time to decide. Went home, talked to Nate.” And honestly? He’s already incredibly tied up with the starry goddess, but there’s something that seems to feel like it’s an additional step, one placed too far over the line he’s been trying to balance on for so long now. The only thing that seemed to make it worth it was the opportunity of immortality.

But what was immortality if Nate wasn’t able to spend it with him?

So he nods to her comment of Safrin hopefully understanding while he steps over and rolls his shoulders out, taking up a stance with his fists, waiting to see what she decides. And fists it is, as she announces it and immediately moves to take advantage of how he might have been dallying in waiting. He’s quick, though, having paid attention to the way her muscles constrict and coil before she pounces, and despite his size he’s easy to duck out of the way so her fist glances off his shoulder, side stepping as he brings his own fist up, aiming for her side.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell