[se] dust and devils on my conscience

Definitely a few days before they’ll meet each other outside the Boner Room, and not at all Wessex’s version of laying low is… not so sound right now. Having sharpened all the Barrack’s practice weapons that need sharpening (and some should absolutely remain dull) and cleaned and shined everything else, she’s fidgety. Needs something to do. And then while walking by the Notice Board, she re-reads the note about Ghilio and oh yeah. That’s something to do. So the Wraith hops in to her mech!suit and dips a metal washing tub into the Oasis and - off she goes, headed for Hak Etme and praying for minor headwinds. When she arrives, the tub is half empty, but everyone at the Caravanserai is scrambling to figure out who and what this big metal bird is. WESSEX The Wraith

SUNJATA

isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?

He finds himself here on a whim, really, perhaps mostly for trading – perhaps an attempt to learn more about those that live out of their wagons, taking them from place to place (an attempt to learn more perhaps about where his twins have come from) when the giant metal bird that lands begins to make a commotion amongst those in the surrounding area.

He doesn’t notice who it is at first, until he locks eyes with it – immediately speaking to get those nearer to him calmed down, comments of how the bird isn’t a threat, how it isn’t something for those around to be afraid of, that he knows her, can vouch for her as he makes his way toward the Wraith.

Once he’s in earshot of her, he raises a brow at her, flashing a small amused smile at the disruption she’s caused. “Should shift as soon as possible before they try and electrocute you.” He murmurs by greeting, standing close enough to her now that she should be able to hear him without issue as he folds his arms across his chest.

if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire

we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write

She chuckles on the inside, metal beak opening and closing in the closest approximation to human laughing this form can make. Wessex does as she’s bid for once, and is quickly hiding her shiny, dangerous wings and trading them for pale skin and a hand across her brow so she can better look at the scene she’s caused.

“There’s just no good way to haul a fuck ton of water across the Grounds, Greatwood, and Desert, you know?” Shrugging indifferently at the challenge and her solution, the Wraith turns to the Flood. “Thanks for the intervention. Whatcha doin’ out here?” Eyes flit from his face to the exotic surroundings, the people who have come out of hiding to see what the bird turned in to. Wessex offers a curt nod to one, but her attention is still on Sunjata.

WESSEX

SUNJATA

isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?

“Ah yes, the water for the deity, correct?” He asks, managing a small smile toward the Wraith as he, too, finds himself squinting in the light. Truthfully, Sunjata can’t relate too much to that, having the magic thrumming under his skin nowadays – to summon it at will is a feat he never thought he’d possess, but one that he doesn’t think he could live without now.

At her thanks, he nods and moves to stand beside her as a way of telling her he intends to go with her wherever it is she needs to go. “Mostly exploring. The wagons were familiar, I think the family we got the twins from was from around here.” Not that he intends to give the twins up, but to understand these people a bit better – what it was like to live in a desert (despite having grown up in a similar space himself, plagued by long seasons of drought followed by long seasons of flooding with rarely any in between). “Thought it might be nice to get something to bring back to the Grounds for them. But... Do you need help with the water?”

if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire

we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write

Wessex nods, lips pressed thinly together. “Yep. The one Nate was helping me find. We failed, but -” she shrugs. The deity was found anyway. No harm, no foul, just a lost reward, if there was any.

Glancing around at the wagons, the Wraith can’t help but think that by the looks of these leather-skinned and wagon-bound people, that the twins might be better off with Sunjata and Nate. She’s trying to imagine their lives and how different - but then again, perhaps not so different - from her own it might be and almost misses the Flood’s offer entirely. “Oh. Sure, do you think you can? I can always wait if you want to shop first.” Hell, she might even peruse the strang wares, too.

WESSEX

There are dead plants everywhere. What could possibly be causing this?

SUNJATA

isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?

“But it was found anyway.” Sunjata supplies with a heavy sigh – one that has him recalling the fact that Nate had mentioned something about a strange encounter with Remi, Ronin, Maeve, and Locke over this particular deity. And some pieces begin to fall into place. He understands, even if he doesn’t fully understand, and he nods to her regardless.

As for the rest, though, his offer to help her and the way he watches her gaze dance along the people that live from their wagons on big long haul transports, he half expects her to have no answer for. His head tilts slightly as he regards her and when the question arises, Sunjata flashes her a small smile. “I have time if you have time. There were two places I haven’t been to yet.” He nods his head toward some nearer to the back, before raising a brow at her and starts heading that way. “Come along, then.” It’s a playful tease as it slips from his lips.

Surprise does start to overcome him as he notices that there’s dead plants in every nook and cranny of this place now and he wonders idly whether or not the deity is to be blamed for that – so he summons a bit of his magic and lets a little bit of water dip and drop into the crevices of the dead plants, wondering if it’s enough to bring some semblance of life back into them.

if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire

we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write

With an eye to the tub of water they’re leaving behind, Wessex follow Jata, but is half-convinced that they’ll come back to find it completely empty. Water seems like a commodity here, so she makes eye contact with someone nearby and tries to convey via furtive gestures that there will be hell to pay if she returns and it’s gone.

The Wraith pulls up to wander alongside the Flood and she, too, notices the dead plants. Unable to tell if they’re the same plants that Ghilio was trying to make, she just hums thoughtfully and presses her lips together until her fellow demigod tries to revive them. As the water flows out of him and towards the desiccated greenery, she huhs quietly to herself. “That’s useful. What kind of Frey things are coming your way, if you don’t mind me asking?”

In her mind, they’ve always been the herald(s) with simultaneously the most variety and the most useless powers. She is, however, aware of her biases and is open to changing her mind, given the shit the two of them have been through lately.

WESSEX

SUNJATA

isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?

Those nearby certainly seem to avoid whatever tub the giant metal monster has brought, so it should come as some relief to Wessex that nobody dares to even look twice at it – whispering amongst themselves to ensure that any new arrivals that hadn’t seen don’t dare to step close to it either. Which leaves the Flood and the Wraith able to go and peruse the wares.

And for Sunjata to attempt to revive the plants that look as though they intend to remain dead no matter what.

Her question has him glancing over at her, flashing a playful smirk her way with a roll of his shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure just yet. I’ve found the magic to be a bit more me than Frey per say. The Flood and all that. The other one is a scent thing I’ve noticed. That’s far more Frey-esque.” To change to something pleasant for whomever’s around him – only figured out by the way he applies the same scents day in and day out, only to be told varying things from those he encounters throughout the day. “I imagine most of it fits in with the nature side. It’s probably not all that helpful to have sex related things with war on the horizon.” He pauses by a wagon selling out of the back, inspecting some of the uniquely designed tapestries with surprisingly soft textures, pausing to run a hand along it gently with pleasant surprise.

if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire

we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write

Trying to remember if Sunjata had ever told her to origin of his nickname, Wessex spaces out for a moment, and then comes back to hear him say that he’s also got some pleasant-smelling magic, and she snort-laughs. “Well I guess that’ll be useful come Longheat.” Maybe a bit lost on Nate, but - how nice for the people around him. No one likes a smelly neighbor.

“Right, got to make sure we don’t destroy the world, or something like that?” To her credit, she tries to keep it light, but it quickly turns into something else. “If we… lose. And if we win, but especially if we lose, can you do me a favor and try to restore the Grounds to what it used to be? Fruitful Fields. Trees. Gardens…” More than what it is now, or ever has been in living memory. “One of the oldest Ascended told me it used to be beautiful. A city like Stormbreak and enough farmland to feed everyone.”

With the Ascended there it didn’t matter and they had other, more pressing matters to deal with. But in her wildest dreams, the Wraith would have her home made into a place where everyone can live and thrive just as they are.

WESSEX

SUNJATA

isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?

Her laugh arises a brighter one from him, rumbling and deep as he rolls his eyes, a playful scoff leaving him. “I tend to spend a majority of my time in Longheat in the water in the first place. But I suppose I could do absolutely nothing and still seem absolutely divine if I did.” The thought makes him cringe slightly – hygiene an important part of the Flood’s typical day to day.

He does still, though, listening to how she attempts to keep things light only to let the truth of the matters seep through. Sunjata, to his credit, focuses on flicking through some of those soft tapestries, searching for colors or designs that he hasn’t seen in the other regions while he listens. “Sure.” He says to her, pausing to cast a glance over toward her with a small smile. “All they’ve told me is they want to ensure life would go on regardless of war.” And in making the ground fertile again, to make it beautiful and welcoming? Well, he could certainly add that into the request Frey has for him.

“Truthfully, I find Stormbreak to be… Beautiful but cold. Reminds me of Korofi where it looks like it has everything all together but inside it’s just, full of judgmental people and hollow views, a dull and boring life for those that can stand to stay within its pristine walls.” His nose wrinkles with the memory, heaving a sigh as he plucks out a particularly dark plum purple tapestry with hints of white and black within that he moves toward the merchant with intent to bargain for.

if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire

we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write

She hums an agreement, following dutifully at Sunjata’s heels until she’s absently taken in my a striking, small piece the color of a clear, Deepfrost day in Torchline. “I can see that, absolutely. The opposite of Torchline.” And she knows how he loved Torchline.

Once the Flood is done with his bargaining, she starts again with a thought in the same vein. “You remember when you asked me if I would ever want to hide away and wait it out, and I said I’d give my place up? I’d give it to someone named Azrael. I don’t know if you’ve met them, but they want to be an architect. I think they’d really love to design a beautiful new city, where everyone is welcome.” She’s grinning now, the thought of some kind of naive new utopia suddenly springing up is enough to carry her out of the sudden, earlier melancholy.

“Anyway. How are you holding up?”

WESSEX

SUNJATA

isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?

“Yes.” Sunjata responds quickly, glancing over to flash Wessex a smile with her agreement. “Torchline was chaotic on the outside but internally actually quite well refined. It has its rules, of course, but it isn’t the government that necessarily enacted justice if it went out of hand.” Something also different from Stormbreak, given that it felt more like the Order was the judge, jury, executioner, as well as leadership of the land.

Still, a nostalgic sigh leaves him. “I do miss it, though.” The scent of the briny ocean that permeated everything, the way you could see the ocean from nearly any place you stood. But he can’t dwell on the past, focusing on wrapping up his bargain and once it’s made and completed, his attention is focused wholly on the Wraith. “I’ve heard that name before.” He comments softly. “I’ve never met them, but Nate adores them too.” And because he knows exactly what conversation that picked up the line, Sunjata bumps his elbow at her with a brighter smile. “I’d love to talk to them about it.” And he tacks it onto yet another thing to focus on.

Her question, though, makes his smile falter for a fraction, his shoulders shrugging as they head back toward the bucket of water that has been well avoided by anyone nearby. “Better, I think. Knowing that Nate’s going to wake up eventually and that we have his body back.” It was relieving, it gave him something to hope for, and if his obsession over his husband wasn’t obvious by now, well, he isn’t sure what would convince anyone more.

if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire

we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write

She’d always found Torchline fascinating and in another life, maybe Wessex would have done really well for herself there. “I can imagine,” she offers in sympathy. It’s a one-of-a-kind place in Caido. Those who fell in love with it had nothing else to satisfy that itch.

They turn away from the shopping, rug in tow, and head back toward the tub of water. It seemed like all they were doing was waiting on time to pass, for Nate to return, for the War to start, for… whatever, whatever, whatever. Waiting like sitting ducks doing… what? Delivering water? Gods, it’s laughable, really.

“So - how do you want to do this?” Eyeing up a distance, the demigod takes a step back to think it all through. “You could ride on me - or in the tub,” and this suggestion elicits a girlish chuckle, “Up to you. I know where we’re going.”

WESSEX