(SE) shadow of grace

take it straight to the vein, do what you're afraid to

In truth, the Flood doesn’t feel welcome anywhere but the wilds these days. But if there’s one place that he feels less terrible about his presence being there, it’s Torchline. It’s a place that aside from the memories he’s been trying so hard to both keep away and bring back, it harbors plenty of markets. And that’s the entire reason the demigod’s come this far in the first place.

He recalls the tradition of getting something nice for someone that you don’t like, and for the first time in a while that person is one that he’d spent a surprising amount of time with. There’s a part of him that wonders if things would’ve been different had war not pushed their sides to the brink. After all, Ronin had let him out of the Stormbreak jail when he’d lost the last relic.

He also wonders if that relic would’ve made a difference, if his husband would still be alive because of it.

But he swallows down those thoughts as he searches, greeting those that recognize him from the time he’d ruled this land, and keeping his head down from others. He stops at a specific stall with glassware, but ones that have been etched and designed – a glass blower, he assumes, based off of the furnace in the back that he can see. Already, his interest is piqued.

the flood

don't show them your pain, show them who it made you

totally sniped from odd ilu

The irony of Sunjata coming to the same shop looking for a gift for someone he didn't like, while Noah was doing the exact same, was just too hard to pass up (for this writer, at least). All the way back in the workshop behind the storefront, Noah watched with crossed arms as the glassblower worked on the project. The sketch of what they had come up with lay on the table beside the demigod.

It'll be a minute still, a voice broke the hunter's concentration on the glassblower; it was his apprentice, you can look around more...or you can watch, but artistry of this level takes time. Noah nodded with understanding, then moved back into the storefront from the workshop. He almost balked at what he saw when he did, but instead he let out a breathy, though quiet, laugh and shook his head. "I didn't expect to run into you here, Sunjata." Noah said as he closed some distance between them.

He hadn't seen the man since before the war, before the refuge was finished even, and he had to admit that he looked okay -- good, if he felt generous.

noah olson

the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns

take it straight to the vein, do what you're afraid to

The voice from the back of the store where the man works is enough to distract Sunjata, casting a glance over the shelves (thanks to his height) to peer behind and see what’s happening. The man’s hard at work, but luckily for the Flood, the item he’s interested in isn’t one that needs to be crafted. So he continues his perusing, alongside glasses with etched marks, different colored hues reaching up from the bases like tendrils.

At least, until he hears a familiar enough voice, one that has him freezing a fraction despite the laugh and surprising enough warmth that comes from Noah. So he turns toward VI’s demigod to acknowledge him, unsure how exactly to answer. ’Well I’m not welcome anywhere else. Not here really either, but nobody’s chased me out with pitchforks.’ So he settles for something simpler. “I don’t end up here often these days, so that’s fair.” He rumbles, offering Noah a polite smile, one that tugs on the scar on the side of his face.

“You’re a long way away from Halo, yourself.” He offers quietly, plucking a piece of glassware from the shelf to inspect it better, still listening for Noah’s answer.

the flood

don't show them your pain, show them who it made you

totally sniped from odd ilu

”You can’t find anything like this in Halo.” Noah said, gesturing to the beautiful creations through the shop. ”I’m having something made for my baby’s nursery.” He gave a vulnerable answer, though it was only half truth. He as going to have something made for his coming children, but what the glassblower was working on now was for the demigod that stood before him. A deep frost tradition and, in the wake of the changing world, on the small list of people Noah disliked.

”He’s expensive, but he’s good.” Noah said. ”Rumor has it that the fire in his forge is from Apopo itself.” For as long as Noah needed to be here, waiting for his gift to finish, he would keep the one it was intended for here. ”How’s he refuge?” He asked, mirroring Sunjata’s actions and grabbing a small piece off the shelf - a beautiful unicorn.

noah olson

the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns

take it straight to the vein, do what you're afraid to

He’s inclined to agree, despite having been in Halo a handful of times, when Noah’s next set of words reach him. And perhaps his pause is due to the surprise that maybe Vi’s demigod doesn’t spy him as an enemy as much as he’d originally thought. Or perhaps the war and the results from it have settled whatever grievances had grown between them leading up to it. After all, if he was considered Noah’s enemy, why mention a child.

Though, even if he is considered an enemy still, at least he doesn’t seem the type to go and steal children. That’s some semblance of solace. “Congratulations.” He offers, plucking a different piece of glass from the shelf to inspect after he’d set the other one back. Eventually, though, his gaze lifts from it to look at Noah more properly, letting some of the anxiety settle in his stomach as he exhales a soft sigh, trying to start this interaction over. “I’d believe it.” He comments idly about the rumor of the glassworker.

As for the refuge, he shrugs a shoulder and places the glassware back before something else captures his attention – one that’s more like a pitcher, the similar hued tendrils racing up the edges of it, but within it sports a set of antlers and arrows, likely one for visitors from other lands, given Torchline hadn’t really been known for its hunting sport. (Now fishing? That was its bread and butter.)

“It’s good. Quieter these days as everyone’s gone back home. Some have chosen to stay, though.” After having nothing else to go back to. Himself included – remaining while the majority of people that had remained, returned back to their homes, wishing to have their magic and abilities back. He can’t blame them. "Deimos allowed me to post a notice in Halo about a party Frey and I intend to host there toward the middle of Deepfrost. You're welcome to attend." He offers quietly, unsure why he included the whole Deimos allowed me part, but given that Noah was important within Halo, perhaps getting the explanation out before hand instead of answering the follow up questions after would help.

the flood

don't show them your pain, show them who it made you

totally sniped from odd ilu

For as much as Noah disliked Sunjata and didn't agree with the decisions he made, the man had done something for the war that benefited the people. There might have been a time where Noah would fight against Sunjata to keep the later from being able to benefit the Voice, or the Ascended, but those days were long gone.

At least, Noah was ready to move on from them. The Sentinel hadn't lost as much in the war as the Flood, though.

"Thank you," he said, smiling in reference to his coming children. "Twins, I think." He had no medical training or epiphany from the gods to say for sure, but in his gut he felt it. He placed the unicorn back down on the shelf. Lifting his eyebrows at the Flood, Noah's lips turned in an interested sort of expression.

"What is Frey having a party for?" He was no stranger to the god that anointed Sunjata as their own, and he knew well that Frey displayed two aspects of themselves. If the party were about crazed amounts of sex and touching and orgasms, well, frankly, Noah wasn't interested.

"Almost done!" Noah heard the glass blower yell from the back, and he turned towards them and gestured for Sunjata to come with.

noah olson

the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns

take it straight to the vein, do what you're afraid to

It’s a strange feeling – to have Noah extend that hand, to make that connection. There’s a larger part of Sunjata, sheltered and pushed away from reality these days that he finds it difficult to trust. There’s a smaller part that seems to suggest that he should be guilty for accepting it. And all he can do is try to compartmentalize it as he picks out his gift and moves to barter for it, commenting a congratulations for Noah’s expecting children. “Twins are a handful.” He admits with a small half smile.

He would know. But it does make it easier with more than one parent to help out.

So he puffs out a soft sigh as the question reaches him and Sunjata’s managed to lock away his strange feelings into a box in the recesses of his mind enough to offer a soft laugh. “Not sure, really. Perhaps a celebration for those that made it. Let loose.” That’s about all he could recall from the event – something that Frey had decided to host that could benefit him too.

So he notices the gesture from Noah and follows, stepping through the shop to join the Halovian, carrying the gift in his hands so that when the blower was done he might be able to barter for it, and while he waits he peers through into the back to try and see what’s being made.

the flood

don't show them your pain, show them who it made you

totally sniped from odd ilu

As the two men moved over towards the workshop portion of the space, Noah nodded in response to Sunjata's answer. "I'll have to keep it on my schedule, then." He was sure Cordelia would not be in any state to travel to King's End this late in her pregnancy, so whether or not he stayed long would be determined then.

The glass blower finished the first of the two commissions Vi's demigod asked for, and Noah looked to the Flood. "This, I had made for you. Deepfrost tradition and all." Noah said, pointing to the work of art before the two demigods. It was an intricately made, hollow dome, about the size of Noah's palm. Colors twisted and rolled together--deep blues and bright white and finally a lightning bolt of yellow down through the middle. "He said it goes over a candle." Noah said.

noah olson

the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns

take it straight to the vein, do what you're afraid to

The fact Noah doesn’t immediately deny coming is a good thing, at least. The olive branch offered, accepted. Perhaps times were changing, if he wasn’t some terrible person people didn’t want to associate with any longer. Or maybe that’s an illusion that starts to fall the second Noah shatters it with the gift.

Of course it’s Deepfrost tradition, he’s received a lot of shit from people over the years that weren’t huge fans of him. So he takes it with a grain of salt, a huff of a laugh and a crooked smile that tugs awkwardly on the half Glasgow smile he bears as he looks back to Noah. “Is the lightning because of my dragon shift or because Deimos told you he electrocuted me?” He asks, wiggling his lightning scarred hand in front of them for Noah to see.

Regardless, though, the smile softens and he inspects the fine details of it. “It’s lovely, thank you.”

the flood

don't show them your pain, show them who it made you

totally sniped from odd ilu

Noah wasn't a vindictive man, or a cruel one. The lightning hadn't been for either the dragon shift or the electric trauma that Sunjata had faced, but was instead a representation of Nate. But Noah wasn't sure how well that would go over -- so he simply chuckled and said, "I'll leave it to you to decide."

The glassblower returned again, this time with a sturdy box and handed it to Noah. The two nodded at each other, and the Sentinel turned to the Flood once more. "I'll see you at that party, then?" Noah asked with a lifted brow, though the tone in his voice and the way he held his box that protected his children's new mobile made it quite evident that the Halo man intended to head out of the shop.

Fin

noah olson

the emptiness of broken flesh, at the mercy of the thorns