[se] give and take

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Melita had been to the Climb before, but not to this extension. Given the nature of her quest, the location made sense – but she found upon stepping into its confines, that she greatly preferred the Frey’s Breath and waterfall portions to this. A child of the desert she might have been, but the Dragon’s Throat had been rich and teeming with life in so many other ways.

This was molten, dark, and sweltering.

“Gross,” she uttered under her breath, immediately pinning her long hair up and out of the way, already beginning to sweat. Turning to Fangorn, she shrugged her shoulders, and for once, was careful where she stepped. “Let’s just do this as quick as possible,” and the gourd resounded with some other grumble, which she took for agreement. At least volcanic rock would be easy to find – the whole god damned area was littered with it. “What’s so angelic about this place,” was a mutter too, wrinkling her nose at the distant isles, blackened, charred, and Stygian.

Eventually, she found a safer path, treading lightly, hands immediately fixing to some chunks already layered and flaking off.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy

He trails behind her, not entirely in the conversation and not entirely out of it either. At the very least, Safrin hadn’t gifted him his hEARS, so it was one of the few things that remained. It makes it so despite the sound of the Climb that in some places seemed almost devouring, that he’s able to hear her pretty well.

His hands are in his pockets, eyes peeled and scanning the landscape for anything that might come out to attack them while they walk. “Agreed.” Sunjata murmurs to her suggestion. Get this over with as quickly as possible so he can go home and shower. “Well… It’s called Angel’s End, is it not? Leads me to think maybe this is where angels go to die.” His nose wrinkles with it, something on the tip of his tongue about how gods like to see them fall, but he refrains.

But she finds a safer path and Sunjata’s quick on her heels, grabbing a bag he’d been carrying on his back for her to start lugging the chunks of lava rock in. “How much of it do you need?”

with wings that burn and boys who fall

SUNJATA

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

“Well, that’s comforting,” she handwaved the aspects, but her eyes went out over the vast bed of nothingness, attempting not to imagine the bloodied vestiges and notions the ruminations created. Fangorn jumped and launched over a series of warmer pockets, before making his way over to her, and she crouched along the chunks, breaking off portions like they were lacquered shells.

Still warm to the touch, her eyes glanced over the obsidian proportions, before placing them in his offered bag. “Enough for a nest. I have to get some ash too at Apopo.” Eventually though, her gaze swept back upwards to her uncle, and something seemed…off, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what or how or why. Her gilded stare narrowed, not dangerously, but as if she was studying, perusing, thinking. “You seem different. You all right?”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy

Sunjata snorts, but nods all the same, holding out the ends of the bag so they won’t fold inside itself. It wasn’t comforting, and Sunjata has half a mind to mention that nothing about this place was comforting, but he refrains. He works his jaw instead, watching her start to pile the rocks into the bag. “Hm… A nest and some ash?” He quirks a brow toward her, head tilting slightly as he considers what this might be for. “Are you getting a dragon?” He asks, some amusement flickering in his gaze.

It fades quickly, though, and he does nothing to hide it from her as her question hits the air and he stares back down at the bag. “I sent you a letter, but I think you were already on your way here when I sent it.” He huffs out a quiet sigh. “I’ve been better. I wanted to tell you the big news lately.” He braces himself for it – though she’d have likely seen that Nate was still home, that things between them were still good. “I became a demigod a few weeks ago, just before the turn of Longheat.” And before she has a chance to speak, he cuts in. "For Frey, not Safrin."

with wings that burn and boys who fall

SUNJATA

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

She began to hum under her breath, some shanty about fire and blood, only lifting her gaze and her crooked smile into something far more devilish as he correctly guessed her tactics. “Maaaaybe.” A few chunks of the rock in her hands broke off into smaller fragments at the simplest touch, and she snorted as they scattered downwards. Forced to pick them up piece by piece, it became a slower effort than she’d hoped, and eventually funneled those into the outstretched bag too.

The pause in distinction though was enough for her to cease entirely – a stitch in the seams of her spine drawing her stare upwards to peer at him more distinctly. That she’d missed a letter didn’t surprise her – she’d bounded off rather quickly after discussing the task with Ludo. More big news. More surprises. More of the inevitable with Sunjata – because while Melita had always worn her impulsivity on her sleeve, lords knew it was a bold, rash, family trait, and the Flood took it with both hands and often went running.

Her eyes widened, mind going blank for a few moments while it absorbed the information. It revolved several times in her mind, as if she hadn’t heard something correctly. “A demigod…,” and once that path had cleared, the other followed through in its place. “But not for Safrin…” Her brows furrowed, and then she blinked rapidly, staring at a wall, then coming back towards him. “I’m not quite following.” She dropped more rocks into the satchel, then lifted up her hands, as if to document and illustrate her confusion. Forefingers were held aloft, like points. "How did you get there?"

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy

So it is a dragon – and there’s a large part of Sunjata that still misses Haai in that void of his mind that he forces every ounce of the feeling of having the griffin with him and how much of a difference it had made to his well-being, into the excitement and hope he has for Melita’s own companion. “You’ll love it.” He murmurs, managing a softer smile, not letting the loss of Haai dour their conversation.

At least, it isn’t that which makes the conversation a bit more somber. He can’t hold in the news and she deserves to know, so he lays it all out, keeps the bag open for her to fill with the ashy, lava rocks, letting her process it for as long as she might need. He isn’t surprised when she doesn’t follow and Sunjata’s gaze is focused on the bag, readjusting it to settle the rocks in it a bit easier so it wouldn’t stab him in his shoulder when he decides to hoist it onto his back to carry for her.

So for now, he focuses on keeping the bag open a little longer. “I went to see them for a quest that I thought suited them better than Safrin. They offered me a really good deal.” He murmurs softly, looking up now to scan Melita’s face. “And I don’t have to worry about being punished for thinking of the Voice or Nate when in my gods presence.” He tacks on – because it was probably one of the more important bits of information he wants out there.

But he isn’t sure what to follow it up on, so he lifts a free hand to summon that bubble of water, keeping it aloft in front of her should she wish to wash her hands of the ash and the dirt of Angel’s End.

with wings that burn and boys who fall

SUNJATA

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

She didn’t want the discussion of companions to become another diminishing accord, so she stuffed the notions of Haai, of the peaks and valleys of loss, into something else – like a winsome smile, like a Cheshire grin at the prospects of more fire and more souls.

Besides, there was far more to uncover with the other news. Hers was nothing compared to the weight of everything else spiraling (and why was it always him?).

Her hands gripped tightly over the rocks nearby, listening first, before giving into a reaction (which one could suppose might be maturing, or she was finally learning how to deal with him). Deals. No punishments. Other things. And she had to wonder if all the dedication, all the loyalty, held little for him any longer – which depths he traversed when all was said and done. To be capable of saying no to Safrin must’ve been a daunting and daring task on its own, much less with the other semblances aside. Her jaw feathered, and she breathed a sigh, permitting it to unfurl from her lungs at a slow, steady pace – and then started putting the stones into the bag once more. “What does this mean for Nate?” The first and foremost inquiry, hoping he hadn’t wandered deeper into another mire and warren. “And how did Safrin take it?” Melita didn’t look at him, not now, concentrating on her efforts while her mind swarmed.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy

He’s thankful, internally of course, when she shifts the conversation from companions and the like – even if he is excited for her to receive a dragon. Sure, she has Fangorn, and while Sunjata only ever had one companion he can only imagine how wonderful it might be to have two - something that Nate is also familiar with, but he’ll let her favorite uncle share that tidbit of information.

“It means that Frey wants me to talk to the Voice and see if she agrees to protect Nate and if she does, Frey will protect us both.” He murmurs, fiddling with a loose thread on the bag as she continues to fill it with the lava rocks. He does visibly frown and wince a little when she asks how Safrin took it and he sucks in a sharp breath and stares at the bag as if he’s seeing through it. “She almost killed me. Ronin saved me.” The frown only deepens, hating to be on that receiving end. Hating having to owe him.

Eventually, though, the tired and stormy steel of his gaze lifts to glance at his niece’s face.

with wings that burn and boys who fall

SUNJATA

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

The lava rocks clanked together in a jagged, serrated way, falling into the bag, and it was the only sound for a few moments. Fangorn paused in his rustling, watching her, then watching him. Tried and true, the honeybee stilled once more, plucking at a few edges of the slate with her fingers, breathing in some semblance of a sigh, or deep inhales and exhales to keep her from bounding off the ledges.

She could see why he’d done it. He’d always been for Nate, even when the costs were great and the plans far off. But the inquiries thereafter were massive, and they couldn’t help bounding along her skull. Her eyes eventually glanced back up at her uncle, uncertain how to school her expression, so she tried for carefully neutral. Lines drawn, but not on her face. “What if she doesn’t agree?” Nate would still fight, she’d be on the opposing end, and Sunjata would be somewhere in the middle.

Did that mean they wouldn’t have to be involved at all? While the rest of them pledged and fled and died?

Something clenched in her jaw and she had to let it be, leave it alone, before the unrelenting wave became tumbling forward and she’d have no way back. One of Fangorn’s vines reached out toward her, and she gave it a little shake.

Safrin almost killed him (for his disloyalty, she assumed). And Ronin saved him.

“Gods,” she murmured, rubbing at her face once or twice. “What a fucking mess.” He’d always managed to find them, somehow, someway. “Do you think it was worth it?”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy

He isn’t entirely expecting the option of the Voice agreeing so easily and it’s just been one more thing that lingered under his skin, trying to get to the point where he might figure out multiple different options for the goddess, if only to try and keep Nate alive. So he heaves a quiet sigh, tearing his gaze away from his niece and the bag to the little bubbling lava pockets further down, spewing that orange glowing liquid fire. “Then I’ll try to figure out a way that we can fight without being the ones to kill each other. Surely she’d agree to that.” But Frey was another issue if Sunjata couldn’t convince the Voice. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to change the outcome.

As for the rest of it, though, she rubs at her face and his gaze draws back to her, something close to shame darkening his gaze and he lets it drop again, silent as his lips form a tight line. “I’m not sure. I thought so at first but… I called to Frey before Ronin healed me. They didn’t come.” His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, a sharp and loud inhale of breath of a sigh following quickly after. “Those who I’ve talked to have suggested that they might not have been able to come. I’m just not sure what to ask when I go.”

with wings that burn and boys who fall

SUNJATA

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Even those notions were something else altogether. Too hopeful? Asinine? Stupefying? Ignorant? Futile? Not the way this world worked? Cutting deals with deities had been implemented multiple times with the Flood – and while some seemed to meander their way through scruples and designs, these had the marks of efforts cast in impulsivity again. Dread, apprehension, and trepidation pooled in her gut, pierced along her heart, and she couldn’t help the slight shaking of her fingers – either in efforts to restrain her frame from strangling him, or to keep herself contained. “Would she?” It came out a whisper, through clenched teeth, from the multiple strands weaving this way and that. Had the Voice ever given a single shit about the rest of them?

And then the other news didn’t seem to make anything better – Frey not coming to his aid, after becoming their demigod. The unknown, or another tangent he hadn’t expected, a blunt shard in the comings and goings of these wild, embittered escapades. Perhaps that was one more thing he’d have to worry about now – pledging, and it not mattering. The firebrand bit back an oath, a curse, now altogether tossing the rocks into the bag and not caring if they missed in her haphazard wake. Those notions didn’t account for worth. They just made it seem like less. “Maybe there are certain…limitations, or something.”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy

The whisper is certainly one that Sunjata hears with the gilded earring in his ear – and it’s a question that he has no issue in answering. At least… Not from his stance. And maybe it’s a bit self centered, but he knows his husband. He knows that if Nate were to have to have a final blow on the Flood, that it would destroy whatever part of Nate was left. If only because it would do the exact same to himself if the roles were reversed. “I think so.” He murmurs softly. “Her goal is the Ascended’s survival, isn’t it? She would be agreeing to taking one opponent off the playing field for Nate to survive.” Of course, it’s all speculation, and Sunjata works his jaw in silence as he thinks on that subject more, feeling the dourness of the conversation start to turn his stomach in an uncomfortable way.

So it shifts, the conversation changing toward Frey and the fact the god hadn’t answered to their newest demigod in a time where he thought maybe it would have been imperative. And perhaps everyone had been right in assuming that Frey couldn’t show, not because they didn’t want to. “Honestly?” Sunjata begins, his head turning sharply toward Melita now, some sort of set determination through the storm clouds of his gaze. “I hope that’s it.” Because while he had faith, it had been rocked, and he’s worried of making the wrong choice yet again.

He fiddles with the bag a bit more until he notices the ones she’s tossed haphazardly, and he reaches down to grab the wayward ones to throw into the bag himself. “Why does all of this have to be so fucking complicated?” It comes out in a bit of a growl, his lip feathering with the scar as he heaves a sigh big enough his shoulders deflate with it.

with wings that burn and boys who fall

SUNJATA

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Given how things had turned out for the Ascended before, and now, Melita was inclined to disagree. The Voice hadn’t shown much remorse in the way of the LongNight clashes. Maybe it mattered on priorities, rather than anything else. Survival for who – her own or herself? And something about those notions pressed against the back of her eyes, and she closed them, blinking slowly, re-opening the gilded slits to more than just a narrowing, but dangerous nonetheless. They were treading on thin ground again. “Maybe,” centered from her ribs. “But you’re putting a lot of faith in a deity that hasn’t granted many the same.”

She still chucked the rocks a little harder, listening to them bound and bounce off one another in a way that should’ve been satisfying, but wasn’t. For all his determination and pursuits, one kept blundering and rebounding off the other, and the positions altered so readily, so quickly, that it was difficult for Melita to keep heads or tails of the happenstances for too long.

The question though made her snort. “You keep making it that way.” She paused, because the tone wasn’t accusatory, but matter of fact. “All these promises. All these loyalties.” And then somehow amounting to wherever they were now.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun

if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy

That’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? That he trusts the Voice to do the right thing? To be understanding and helpful and everything else? He works his jaw as she continues to chuck the rocks into the bag and huffs a quiet sigh as he goes to pick them up and add the rest of the ones that might have bounced out, pausing to shake the bag to even it out a bit so there’s more room. “I think I only do because of Nate.” It’s an honest admission – one he wouldn’t even tell Nate. The fact that he only trusts the Voice because of his husband and everything she’d done to make him stronger, to make him almost everything he wanted to be.

Still, he can’t help the mumble that leaves him and he hears her response, knowing it’s true deep down, but… “I don’t know how not to be.” Like this. How to not make it hard. How to stop feeling like he owes everyone or he needs to help keep them safe. Where was the comfortable line between a martyr and selfishness? Why did it feel like if he took one step over the line either direction there were dozens of people telling him how much wrong he was doing?

His gaze lifts toward his niece though, almost as if he's curious if she has an answer for him.

with wings that burn and boys who fall

SUNJATA