well, well, look who's inside again

an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth
a knife for the ribs

Morning arrives on long, warm fingers of light and barely a cloud in the sky, belying the chaos that preceded it the day before.

Ronin isn't in a rush, knowing that the magical slumber Remi has placed Sunjata into is testament to jail all on its own, even without the cell he's thrown him into. And so he dawdles. He broods.

He gets two cups of coffee, considers throwing one away, and changes his mind again.

Arriving at Judgement's Needle, he seats himself quite obviously on the other side of the bars of Jata's cell, in the sunshine with the sparkling spear of a needle thrusting at the sky behind him. And when he's good and ready, he reaches through and touches the Flood on the arm to awaken him.

He doesn't know if Sunjata's clothes have had a chance to dry or if he'll be feeling anything less than grotesque, and he's still trying to decide if he cares. Nonetheless, he places the second coffee on the other side of the bars as well, and waits.

RONIN

// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //

The last thing he remembers is the water, Remi holding on impossibly tight, and a fueled rage that had no place to get out of before everything went black.

So black in fact, that the light that filters in when Ronin wakes him is piercing, sharp enough that he winces with a whimper and a sluggish hand that rises to cover his face, before he’s rolling half over, a sharp cough breaking out of his lungs. His head throbs, his body aches, and when he realizes where he is he simply sinks back down, trying to catch his breath as his gaze squints and focuses on the ceiling.

He can smell the scent of coffee, the scent of the Huntsman too, but he can’t quite bring himself to sit upright in those damp clothes of his, as weak as he is, as dry as his mouth is. He simply just tries to formulate words in his head, helpless at getting them to get past his tied tongue.

// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //

SUNJATA

an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth
a knife for the ribs

Once upon a time, Ronin wouldn't have dreamed of having the bars of a cell between them. He'd have been summoning every trick up his sleeve to try and heal the Flood as best he could, because they were as close as brothers, and that's quite simply what you did for each other.

It's funny how things can change.

For a second the anger that flashes across Ronin's face is raw and real and it desperately wants to sink its teeth ito Sunjata, but he swallows it back. Swiping a hand across his face and huffing out a long sigh, he hides his first - much more harsh - words behind a long drink of coffee.

"The fuck are you doing, man?" he mutters eventually, once he's done.

RONIN

// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //

Perhaps things had never quite been the same since Safrin, since Kamaria, since his dream death. It’s only now that Sunjata’s found a hill to pretty much die on that brings them into this position – not strong enough to get a hold onto the situation, not strong enough to break Remi’s grapple, not strong enough to get the relic and get out before he got this far.

But it’s fine. It’s usually how things go as of late anyway.

Ronin’s question is heard, and it takes a few moments for Sunjata to actually get around the burning in his throat to speak. “What’s it look like?” He asks, his voice rough and irritated, torn up as he tilts his head to squint at Ronin through the bars. “To you. Specifically.” Because he’s curious how Ronin’s taken it, and because he knows what it is he’s doing. Only like with most things, he doubts they understand. He doubts he could make them understand.

// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //

SUNJATA

an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth
a knife for the ribs

Ronin scoffs at that, the Huntsman taking another sip of coffee and rolling his cup between his hands. He tries not to let his hackles raise as the question is thrown back in his face, biting at the inside of his cheek as he considers his reply. "It looks like you've got a deathwish," he says simply. "After I saved your fucking life, too, after Safrin." Maybe he should soften his words, but here they are anyway, whipping out like lashes of barbed wire.

"You turn your back on one god - and y'know what, I can kind of get it, even if it was a stupid fucking idea. But to turn away from all of them? Frey had you building a gods damned safe haven - you know, to keep people safe," he says, as if the other man might have forgotten. "We were there and we agreed it when you came to Torchline, remember? But here you are, crawling around Stormbreak at the first sniff of a relic. You - the Archon of the Hollowed Grounds."

Good job on that one, by the way. That part goes unsaid, of course.

RONIN

// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //

“If you’re going to throw that in my face I want it known I never asked you to. You chose to.” Ronin had chosen to save him that day when even Frey wouldn’t get involved. But, nevertheless, Sunjata takes a deep breath against his scratchy throat, another cough breaking through him from the salt water and the remainder of Remi’s chokehold still painfully apparent around his throat.

But he draws silent, managing a soft snort of a laugh as Ronin casually reminds him of what he’d agreed. “First of all, Ronin, is your idea of keeping people safe exclusive to the Old Gods side?” He asks, pushing himself up shakily to sit up and let those exhausted steel eyes focus on his once friend. “Because I was trying to keep people safe. We were luring it away from Stormbreak. I need that fucking relic to protect my people too.” He doesn’t manage to get his voice raised any more than a small amount before it tries to give out on him.

// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //

SUNJATA

an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth
a knife for the ribs

"And you chose to do all of this shit," Ronin retorts, trying and failing to keep his own voice level (and he's able to use his a lot more). Speaking of which, though, it's with a petty little roll of his wrist that he gestures to the cup of coffee he's brought the Flood, helpfully nestled on his side of the jail cell where he can get to it. Still choosing the high road even now, Jata, see?

Scoffing, he sets down his own cup and rests his elbows on his knees. "No, see, because I never agreed to keep anyone safe but the people in Stormbreak. Things are different than they were years ago when we were still able to make our own choices, when gods weren't breathing down our necks and war wasn't on our fucking doorstep."

Tilting his head, he spreads his palms now and looks at the other man expectantly. "Yeah? And what does that relic even do, Jata?" he wants to know. Because he doesn't. (Not yet, anyway).

RONIN

// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //

He rolls his eyes, truthfully not finding any issue in what he’s chosen to do with the time since. He’s made a safe haven, he’s helped people, even if it’s blind to Ronin’s eyes. He’s done all of that with a second (or third or fourth or fifth, where are we at now?) chance.

His gaze does drift to the coffee, though, but he makes no move to grab it yet. Mostly because he’s unsure if the weakness of his arms would allow him to pick the cup up, but he makes note of it and focuses again on the Huntsman, waiting for him to finish before he swallows against his dry mouth and tries again, voice cracking. “Who says they have to be different, Ronin? Safrin?” He points out. “Ludo? Who’s wanted to kill the Ascended for how long now?” He leans back, resting the back of his head against the wall, sucking down another breath. “I was able to attain a peaceful space between both the Old Gods and New. But nobody else wants to fucking have a conversation, hm?”

He doesn’t know whether or not his closeness to Nate had been a part of being able to it, or simply the good intentions in his heart, but he’d still done it. “I don’t fucking know what it does. Why does it matter if I knew? We didn’t know what they did when we got the Hak Etme one, did we?” When he'd lost half of his soul, when he'd died halfway then.

// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //

SUNJATA

an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth
a knife for the ribs

Ronin has to bite his tongue around the words that threaten to spill from his lips, because even he doesn't have an ego enough not to admit that Sunjata has a point. And once upon a time he'd been there too - he'd been wanting to plant his feet firmly on both sides of the Old Gods and the New, he'd wanted to walk through no man's land and live there until things got bright and shiny again.

Alas.

"We have never once set foot into the Hollowed Grounds to attack," he says quietly. "Not once. So before you get up on your soap box and preach, how about we take a walk into the street, to the monument with dozens of names carved into it. All innocent people who died when that Tower came down. If you want to have a conversation, Sunjata, talk to Ludo and have it bring those people to you. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to hear what you have to say."

Huffing out a shuddering breath, he shakes his head and stares at the space between his feet. "No, we didn't. But we weren't grabbing it to protect us and them back then either. Especially not from a city that, to be blunt, has seen enough, and war isn't even here yet."

RONIN

// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //

There is some deep satisfaction when Ronin doesn’t comment on the safe haven. But it isn’t enough to keep him from feeling the barbs he sends back in the form of stepping foot into the Hollowed Grounds to attack, a point of which Sunjata’s mask remains quite high and steadfast as he watches Ronin detail out everything to get some ounce of pity. Pity, of which, that Sunjata doesn’t have much of given the state of everything. “I didn’t take the tower down. I don’t control how my shifts are used.” He says point blank, before his gaze drops for a moment to see what Ronin’s looking at, and when he finds nothing he simply lifts his gaze back up to watch.

“Isn’t that just war, Ronin? Hazards of it? It’s been ramping up. People are out there murdering the Ascended, for years now. And Gideon killed Sam on the border of the Hollowed Grounds and yet, no, I should think about the good people here? In Stormbreak?” He asks, pausing when his voice tries to give out again before he continues, cutting Ronin off if he has to. “When there’s good people in the Grounds, too, who just because they’re Ascended means they automatically get a death sentence?”

// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //

SUNJATA

an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth
a knife for the ribs

"No, but you damned well choose who to give them to," Ronin bites back. "I knew Edrei long before you did, Sunjata. If you think I enjoyed having to take her down, you're farther gone than I thought. If not for you, she wouldn't have been there." And from there the dominos start to fall - none of them would have been riding on her back, the fight at the Tower might not have been so vicious, etc. etc.

"So which is it, Jata? Does everyone deserve a safe haven, or are the innocent people in the Hollowed Grounds more important than the innocent people in Stormbreak because they're Ascended?" Biting his tongue, Ronin realises far too late that not only is this conversation going nowhere, but he has no idea what he even wanted out of it any more.

Picking up his (nearly empty) coffee and rising to his feet, he nods for one of the dragoons standing guard to unlock the Flood's cell. "We both know I wouldn't kill you, not unless Safrin came down herself and ordered me to do it. So that threat is a moot point. But if you do come back here, I'll punch you so hard in your damned face, you'll see brand new constellations."

Even that means nothing, honestly, and as the keys jangle and the lock is released, Ronin stands aside. "That safe haven is important," he adds quietly. "For everyone. So for everyone's sake, I hope you finish it."

RONIN

// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //

“Do I choose who takes them from who I give them to?” He replies back around that dry throat, voice still just as hoarse as he takes a deep breath, trying to swallow down what little spit is left in his mouth to soothe his sore throat. “I never said you enjoyed it. I certainly don’t.” He mutters after, shaking his head before wincing with the throbbing pain still within his skull.

It doesn’t matter much, though, given the fact that the conversation continues and everything aches. “What I’m saying is that there’s a clear advantage. And if you knew anything about me, you’d recall I have always fought for the underdog.” He always had. It’s distinctly a Sunjata thing to do, truthfully.

As Ronin picks up the nearly empty coffee cup and rises to his feet, Sunjata’s steel gaze follows to the dragoon that rises to unlock his cell, brows pinching together immediately. And with it, he does try to reach for the coffee, arms shaking as he lifts the cup and tries to rise to his feet, trying to get the pins and needles out of every bit of his body, slouching and not nearly close to his full height, he peers at Ronin through the bars.

Finishing the safe haven was to be his bargaining chip with getting out of the cell and it seems he certainly doesn’t have to pull that string. So he tries to take a sip of the coffee as the door opens and Ronin stands aside. “My initial intention was to go to Frey after this whole ordeal anyway.” He mutters like a child, sensitive and frustrated, but he huffs a sigh as he manages the steps out of the cell, standing beside Ronin and letting that steel gaze of his return to the Huntsman’s face. “It will be finished, Ronin.” He pauses awkwardly, lifting the cup as much as his exhausted and painful body will allow. “Thanks.” It’s not as sincere as it otherwise would be – but it’s still a thank you regardless.

And without much else of words, Sunjata steps out of the Needle, finishing the cup of coffee on his way, shifting to a kinder shift to Stormbreak, and departs on the wings of his macaw shift.

- FIN <333

// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //

SUNJATA