all that's best of dark and bright

it's bad enough to see the sunlight through your seams

His lip curls and his nose scrunches as she teases him, Sunjata offering her a very visible roll of his eyes. “Can you not do that?” He asks her, huffing another laugh – imagining that he’s only making the matters worse as he reacts to her comment in his clear distaste. But as she sheds out of her outer layers, he too, loses his jacket now, folding it up and setting it aside as he moves to a different pile – one not full of side tables but instead toward the edges of the room where small sized dressers sit, ready to be distributed.

He looks back to her when she curtseys, another soft snort slipping from his nose as he shakes his head and extends an arm to gesture out for her. “After you, my lady.” Flashing her a wink, he takes one of the dressers and prepares to take it along with to the next room that Isla heads to.

the flood

the thread of you and hem of me, it's bad enough in between

totally sniped from odd ilu

Isla

"Only if you say please," Isla says with a raise of her eyebrows, though there's no guarantee she won't still yank his chain just to see the look on his face. She'd apologise, if she were sorry. Grinning and bobbing into another half curtsey as he gestures for her to go ahead, Isla sweeps into the first of what will turn out to be many rooms of the afternoon. They move dressers, side tables, beds and storage trunks, hang curtains and lanterns and add mattresses and sheets and pillows, and while it's tedious work, Isla finds that the time passes quickly.

Indeed, by the time the sun is dipping beneath the horizon, their stockpile of furniture has been distributed throughout the House of Midnight (she really does like the name), and she's leaning against what will eventually be a fully stocked bar. "Do you think you'll do a grand opening?" she's asking Sunjata, straightening out the bar stools she's recently put there and gazing over the empty shelving.

"Or is this going to be an exclusive affair?"

we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives

it's bad enough to see the sunlight through your seams

“Please.” Sunjata drawls the tone as they get to work, placing item upon item within each room, setting it up in a barebones way that can certainly be adjusted as soon as they get workers in to fix them up to their liking. Sweat gleams along his skin, however, from having to move some of the furniture with Isla’s help up the stairs, an affair that has made him far more sore than he was anticipating.

They’re done soon enough and Sunjata finds the bar, collapsing into a chair as he watches Isla arrange the barstools, his legs stretching out in front of him as he sinks into it more. “A grand opening sounds like it’d be good for business.” He hums, contemplative, a hand rising to run through his hair before it rests at the back of his neck and his gaze slips toward the ceiling – to the loft beyond. “Exclusive affairs can be done upon occasion, though.” He adds with a huff of a laugh, tilting his head down to look at her again. “Besides, does it look like I know anyone exclusive that would want to participate?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

the flood

the thread of you and hem of me, it's bad enough in between

totally sniped from odd ilu

Isla

"It does, doesn't it?" Isla agrees with a smile as she glances over at him slouched in the chair. "Though I suppose before we do a grand opening, we'll have to hire some people to come and work here. Unless you plan to do it all yourself?" She's biting at her lower lip not to grin at the thought of it; not that the idea of dozens of men and women fawning over Sunjata is funny. On the contrary, it's that she can picture it so easily that's amusing.

Grabbing up a clean cloth and opening one of the nearby windows, Isla scoops some snow into it to make an ice pack of sorts, twisting it a few times to close it up. "I mean, you know quite a few leaders, she points out with a smirk, sliding the window shut again. "And council members, too. It's just whether they are into brothels, or would want to be seen in one."

Stepping out from behind the bar, she offers out the ice pack for Sunjata to press against the back of his neck.

we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives

it's bad enough to see the sunlight through your seams

She bites her lower lip to refrain from grinning at the thought while Sunjata heaves a heavy sigh and lets it end with a rumble of a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Maybe I’m getting old, but that sounds like a little bit too much work.” Not that it wasn’t feasible, he just might lose his mind before he can even open the doors. So instead, Sunjata watches her as she opens the window to grab some snow, confusion flaring in his gaze for a brief moment before her words reach him.

“Ah, yes, except I haven’t kept up to date too much with the recent councillors.” He hums, shooting her an amused smile. “I did hear that Noah’s expecting twins.” A side note from someone that seemed to have stretched a hand across without the animosity of before – a feat that Sunjata, despite how much he wants to imagine people don’t hate him as much as he thinks they do, struggles to come to terms with.

“Deimos is an automatic no. Maeve has her own brothel.” (As far as he knows, she’s still running Torchline). “Darkeye loathes me.” He reaches out to take the small snow pack and rests it against the pain in his neck, squinting up at Isla. “This has suddenly become quite depressing.” He adds with another soft laugh to hide the actual hurt deeper in his chest of those that he does know that are (or were) currently running the regions distaste for him, and the fact that he doesn't actually know the rulers of each land these days. It's simply his best guess.

the flood

the thread of you and hem of me, it's bad enough in between

totally sniped from odd ilu

Isla

"Too much work," Isla repeats through a drawl, and the grin on her face suggests that yes, perhaps Sunjata is absolutely getting old if the idea of fucking the night away isn't appealing to him. (It's not a judgement she'd usually make, but this is Frey's demigod before her, come on).

Having never met Noah - and so not really knowing about his abject hatred of her virtue of being Ascended - she can only offer a softer smile to hear about the news of his soon-to-be new arrivals. It doesn't stop there, though, and perhaps there's something telling about the ease with which he's able to list off those who wouldn't attend, because Isla shifts to sink down into the seat next to him rather than retreating back to the bar.

"Well, more fool them," she murmurs. "And I've met Maeve - I taught her some first aid, if I remember right. I'm sure she'd still come to visit, even though she has her own brothel to run. Maybe she can give you tips." She winks. "As for the others, they probably wouldn't be the type to enjoy this sort of place anyway. We could put up notices - we might be surprised who shows up."

we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives

it's bad enough to see the sunlight through your seams

Getting old isn’t so much of a reason as it is a cover, still battling with the guilt of it all. It’s easier to say he’s getting old rather than delve into it for the umpteenth time. So he doesn’t, and instead lets Isla believe that it would be too much work and that it isn’t his anxiety that’s forcing him to take it easy.

He shifts the ice pack on his neck to angle his head toward her when she sits beside him in her own chair, listing off the reasons why others wouldn’t come, but her suggestion of Maeve has a rumbling laugh leaving him. And suddenly, he wonders if Isla even knows about his history with the Madame turned Queen. “I think I’ve learned enough tips from Maeve.” He pauses, squinting at her with a hint of amusement. “Half of Torchline still think her son’s mine.” His shoulder rises and falls in a small shrug.

“Notices would be the best option. That and word of mouth.” Spreading the information without having to lay it all out.

the flood

the thread of you and hem of me, it's bad enough in between

totally sniped from odd ilu

Isla

If Isla does know about Maeve, it has been long enough that her mind has turned it into something fuzzy and strange, like a rumour; a rumour that Sunjata brings back into stark focus as he continues. The medic's eyebrows shoot up, Isla reaching across to shove gently at his arm as she grins. "Well, then," she says, "maybe if nothing else you can poach some of her regular customers, hm? Word of mouth feels like the exact sort of innuendo that should be attached to a brothel."

Though perhaps it is for the best if Maeve herself stays on Torchline's shores. "I'll write up some notices tonight and we can send them out," she says, relaxing back into her seat. "Or rather, you can send them out, given that you have the wings." It's true that she could also have said wings, but there's already enough awkwardness in the conversation already.

And so Isla, perhaps wisely, keeps her mouth shut, and they take a few moments to actually enjoy the work they've put in before finally heading back out into the snow. They're almost there, she thinks. Not quite, but almost.

~FIN

we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives