I saw your ghost

Sunlight will stretch its fingers through the trees, roving over Sunjata's sleeping body. Like warm whispers, a soft breeze accompanies these radiant patches of gold, gently rustling the Flood awake. The first thing he will see before him is a small vial with the words drink me written in eloquent script on a hang-tag.

Directly next to it is a silk blindfold with a similar tag, this one reading put me on.

no one's coming to save you, swing that sword that you made

He’s brought back here by sheer stubbornness, perhaps due to the fact that it’s the last place he was when he was blissfully unaware of what was going on outside of the refuge. Now, regardless of whether people chose to stay or go didn’t matter to the Flood, given that its purpose was used. So for now, it’s relatively quiet, a place to ponder and recollect, at least until he’s waking up from a surprisingly good dream in the face of so many nightmares he’s had each and every night.

It’s a gentle waking and so unlike anything he’s used to, only to open his eyes to spy the drink and the blindfold, something that seems to scream distinctly of Frey. But something also gentle and tender about it — the way he’s avoided his deity because he’s afraid of what he might see.

So he swallows hard, downs the small vial and slips the blindfold on and waits, not knowing what exactly he’s waiting for.

the flood

with the pain that they gave you, like the pain is gonna save you

totally sniped from odd ilu

When the liquid touches Sunjata's tongue, the Flood will experience a sensation unlike anything other alcohols have produced in him. He'll feel light and grounded, weightless but powerful. The elixer does not seek to hide or diminish the pain that the Flood feels, but instead envelops them in a buoyant and golden sheen.

As soon as the blindfold is on, Sunjata will feel a slender and childlike hand take his, tugging gently to guide him along. The walk takes only a few moments, and when they arrive the Flood will feel a reassuring squeeze against once of his fingers before the hand disappears.

"Don't turn around." Frey purrs from behind the Flood. Their strong hands come to fall against Sunjata's shoulders, pulsing away the knots and tension that the man carries there. 'I know why you haven't come, and I understand.' They continue, tightening the knot on the blindfold just in case Sunjata decides to turn toward them for any reason. 'I will spare you sentiments of tis better to have loved and lost... because that hardly captures it. This sucks, what has happened to you, and not in the fun way." They press their lips softly against the back of Sunjata's neck. "And for that, I am sorry."

no one's coming to save you, swing that sword that you made

It’s relief in a way that Sunjata doesn’t know how to explain, in a way that doesn’t feel guilty to feel the light alongside the darkness of his soul. It’s a thing he’s struggled with, the weight of both, the guilt for feeling any sort of light and happiness. He’s been withdrawn for longer than he cares to admit, unable to cope in the ways he traditionally did.

The hand guides him, however, not too far and he stills the second it disappears. Frey’s voice reaches him and his shoulders slump slightly, eyes shut right behind the blindfold as if not tempting himself further with the fact of seeing ghosts. There’s an apology on his lips as Frey says they understand why he hasn’t come, but there isn’t any retaliation for it, a fact that has him relaxing more with the hands on his shoulders.

His chin drops to his chest at the apology, a huff of a sigh leaving him as he works his jaw before speaking. “I don’t know what I was expecting. I was just… Optimistic for the first time in a long while and was burned for it.” His voice trails off but he pulls himself together enough to turn to face Frey, eyes still closed behind the blindfold just in case. “I haven’t been myself and for that I’m sorry too.”

the flood

with the pain that they gave you, like the pain is gonna save you

totally sniped from odd ilu

"You were burned because this world is shit and unfair, not because you were optimistic." Frey counters softly, breathing warmly against the back of Sunjata's neck. As the Flood twists in their arms, Frey's hands come to rest on the sides of his cheeks, ever careful not to move the blindfold. "Of course you've been yourself." They titter sweetly. "You don't suddenly become someone else when you change or when you don't feel like being you. Talking like that makes it sound like you've done something wrong, grey eyes."

But you haven't.

Sliding their palms down Sunjata's cheeks to rest them against his shoulders, Frey gives a little shrug the Flood won't see. "What about...another little project to work on? Something to give your mind something to think about in those long, dark hours where ghosts call you to their beds, mmm?"

no one's coming to save you, swing that sword that you made

It was, but he always wanted to have a good outlook on life given the way he grew up, given the constant ways that each world he’d lived in had a terrible tendency to try and destroy him. And still he stands, a hollow pillar trying to keep upright, wrapped in caution tape and held together with rotting beams and rusty nails.

But Frey soothes him, somehow, whether it’s the tonic or the words or both of them, alleviating those jagged edges and fragile parts. He hasn’t done anything wrong, despite how it feels. And he’s thankful for his deity and the stark difference he feels as his cheeks are cupped; unable to imagine how Safrin might have been in this situation, because it had always been coming.

Of course, though, quite unable to handle his emotions at present, his lips twitch, the scar twisting slightly as the realization settles in his mind, he can feel the sting reach his eyes and he tries desperately to blink them away.

A project might be good, give him something else to focus on, and so it’s with a whispered (only because full volume, his voice would certainly crack) “what did you have in mind?” is what he manages to ask.

the flood

with the pain that they gave you, like the pain is gonna save you

totally sniped from odd ilu

'Why don't we throw a little party, mmm? We can have it here so that all those pesky shifts and powers don't get in the way of us all having fun." They suggest, patting their fingertips against Sunjata's lips to soften the tremble in his voice. 'A masquerade. Everyone can bring masks, and...when they get here.." Sunjata will likely feel Frey shrug against him. "Maybe those masks become...a bit more. You know, to really blur the edges." Because it wouldn't be the sort of thing Frey would advocate for if there wasn't more than just a helping of mischief thrown in.

"We can decorate when the time comes, but until then...why don't you work on sending out some invitations? A save the date if you will. Just a little teaser for now...It's always good to build up the anticipation, wouldn't you agree?"

---

Sunjata's first task!

1. Post on every message board (including the Mer) about Frey's DeepFrost Masquerade, to be hosted in the Wrenzoak Refuge.

no one's coming to save you, swing that sword that you made

The mention of a party has his head tilting, eyes still shut behind the blindfold even as he tries to get rid of the tears that threaten to burn. He swallows hard, exhaling and inhaling in slow movements, he listens as Frey offers the suggestion, remaining silent to recover as much as he can and take in everything they say.

After a few moments, he nods, feeling Frey’s hands at his shoulders. “That sounds good.” He agrees softly, wondering just how well it’ll work to distract him, wondering if he’s a bit of a poor sport at the party with everyone all tangled up with their partners wouldn’t sour the mood.

But he’ll try, because at least it’s something. “I can send invites out. Will it be next season?” Or is it just an announcement that one will be held, to get things in order, and the date revealed at a later time.

the flood

with the pain that they gave you, like the pain is gonna save you

totally sniped from odd ilu

'No, no.' Frey trills; either sensing or reading Sunjata's thoughts, they're quick to cut off that line of thinking. "Though some might arrive together, they won't stay that way once they enter. Let's just say...everyone will have a hard time figuring out who is who." More details on that later, but for now the hint of complete anonymity was enough.

Straightening, Frey tickles their fingers up the sides of Sunjata's neck and into his hair. "It will be in Deepfrost." They confirm with a nod. "Midway through the season. That gives us plenty of time to get this place ready."

no one's coming to save you, swing that sword that you made

He forgets sometimes that Frey can read him easily – having lost the ability to focus on hiding his thoughts away from the deity (having no need to since his betrayal of Safrin), and there’s some relief when Frey advises that he wouldn’t exactly be left alone. It was a good enough answer for him, inspired enough to maybe make the best of the situation.

His head tilts into the hand in his hair, the confirmation of the season it will be held far enough away that Sunjata didn’t feel the need to scramble. “I’ll post up the notices, then.” He comments softly, accepting his role for the distraction it will provide while also hopefully giving him something to actually build and focus on again.

“Thank you.” His voice is stronger now, less of the waning worry and guilt swirling in his gut despite the effects of the tonic.

the flood

with the pain that they gave you, like the pain is gonna save you

totally sniped from odd ilu

'Noooooo,' Frey sings in a musical whisper. "Thank you." Their arms come to wrap around the Flood, tugging him close. They hold him in a way that is meant to carry his burdens, if only for a short while, that he might relax.

"Your love for him will never be replaced, even as time moves on." They whisper softly. "No matter what you do or don't do, the time you spent together will always remain." Not normally one to coddle and dwell on the past, Frey is not ignorant of the heartache that their chosen is facing.

"You have had many roles in your time here.." They continue, straightening somewhat. "Have you considered what you might do next? The brothel in Torchline could use an extra set of hands, or perhaps you would be more inclined to start something out here...?"

no one's coming to save you, swing that sword that you made

Their arms wrap around him and he can’t help but to sink into them, arms lifting to rise around his deity, blindfolded face buried against their chest. He takes a slow, deep inhale at the words that leave them, understanding brimming clearly through the way he’s held in a way that alleviates most of the pain he feels. It at least soothes it enough that he can breathe easier, some small part of his mind knowing it wasn’t all for nothing.

But as they straighten, his blindfolded head angles back toward them, listening to the question aired. And perhaps it’s the alleviation of his burdens that make him weigh lighter, that allow for the sudden shift of his emotions, where there’s some inkling of amusement that twitches at the corner of his scarred lip at their suggestion. “I’m pretty sure Maeve and Safrin don’t want me there.” He begins, before pausing to continue as the gears work in his brain. “Maybe an extension to the refuge?” Comes the suggestion and agreement to starting something out here.

After all, these days it’s the only home he’s welcome in and the only one that doesn’t harbor so many memories of Nate.

the flood

with the pain that they gave you, like the pain is gonna save you

totally sniped from odd ilu

"Those two." Frey says with a roll of their eyes that Sunjata will feel as a huff of impatient breath puffed against one of his shoulders before lips kiss away the unhappy air.

"Whatever suits you best." They add with a shrug, before pulling back. 'Keep the blindfold. If you need to wear it next time, I won't be offended.' Frey says as their fingers ghost across Sunjata's arms and then away entirely. "I'm going to go now, on the count of three." They explain, so that the Flood would know when it was safe to look again.

"One, two..." Frey vanishes in a gust of warm wind.

"three."

~FIN