[SE] festina lente

Mateo

For a boy born of a dream who calls two demigods his parents, Mateo Taliesin's relationship with the gods might come as something of a surprise. Call it knowing better, or knowing too much, but he avoids shrines as if they might be haunted (the exception being his visit to one to get a deeper voice and the ability to grow a real beard, of course) and he rarely, if ever, leaves offerings. Heralds, deities and their chosen ones... nah. That's just not for Mateo.

But there's something about the seasonal gods and goddesses that feels different to him. Perhaps it's because the seasons are so reliable and their demesnes are comparatively minute, but when rumours arrive at Stormbreak about people leaving offerings for Ghilio, Mateo finds himself on a skyship before realising that's where his feet have taken him.

And so here he is now, ducking under sentient vines and stroking gentle fingers along broad leaves that block the Flowerbirth sun. As sober as he's ever likely to be, the botanist is in no particular rush, and he shifts his bag of holding on his shoulder to better reach up and touch the sparkling dew that glitters from the canopy overhead.

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

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

After the meet up with Frey to discuss the brothel, the Flood drops from the shrine and dives through the branches, initially debating on taking a shift to slip above the Oerwoud’s canopy to head back to King’s End, but something about the way Flowerbirth makes this land alive has him dropping down to the path, wandering for a few moments in solitary silence to simply take in the sights and smells.

It isn’t often he’s done this – too caught up in his own mind to feel well enough to enjoy things – but for the moment he’s in a decently good mood. It keeps him wandering, if not a little shielded with arms coated in the scales of his snake skin, hidden away from anything that may want to slip out and sting him. And after a little bit of wandering, he stumbles across someone reaching up and touching the vines.

Now, Sunjata understands he strikes an imposing figure. The height and the shifting skins, the scar that gnarls his face – and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t recognize Mateo. So he tries to be as gentle as possible to offer a quiet greeting to announce the fact that the other man’s not alone. “Sorry for interrupting. I’m just passing through.”

the flood

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

totally sniped from odd ilu

Mateo

A dewdrop has hijacked its way from one of the vines and is trickling down Mateo's little finger and onto his wrist. He's just considering the taste of it when a rich voice breaks his reverie, the botanist glancing over his shoulder with his hand still outstretched. Sunjata has succeeded at least, becuse he isn't startled so much as gently stirred from his thoughts. And at the sight of the other man, his blue eyes light up in recognition.

"The Flood," he says, a little obviously. "Ah, mi scusi." Turning properly now, he offers Sunjata a dimpled smile. "We met once before in front of the Mathair in the Greatwood. I do not know if you remember me - I am Mateo Taliesin. Are you here to leave an offering for Ghilio as well?"

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

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

There’s acknowledgement in the moniker that Mateo speaks, and there’s a soft smile that spreads across his scarred face – one that does falter for a fraction at the Italian, giving him pause as he focuses on the man a bit longer. It’s words he hasn’t heard in a long while, in an accent he hasn’t heard in a while, but for the sake of everything he files that particular memory away in a corner, blocked and hidden where he can swallow it down some place else. Some place private.

“Oh!” He says, his accented voice surprised as he steps a bit closer as if surveying Mateo with a calculating eye. “You’ve grown, I apologize that I hadn’t recognized you earlier.” He starts to explain before cutting himself off, shaking his head about the offering of Ghilio. “I was just leaving from speaking with Frey. This is one of the paths I take to get home.” A shoulder rises and falls in a shrug, before he starts to inspect the vine glittering with dew.

the flood

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

totally sniped from odd ilu

Mateo

It isn't Italian, Sunjata, it's the travelling tongue. At least, that is what Mateo would say had he known of the other man's reaction to his words, and that's without taking into account the reaction he doesn't know they've had on the Flood.

Lifting his chin a bit as he realises he's being appraised (and it's hilarious, given their height difference), Mateo offers the other man another grin. "That is alright - I do not blame anyone for not recognising me. It is good to see you." And it is, because whatever his fathers' thoughts about Frey's demigod, Mateo has his own mind and opinions, and they see nothing wrong with Sunjata.

He's both surprised and not at the mention of Frey, though, Mateo nodding gently. "Are you living in Torchline, then?" he asks, shifting the bag on his shoulder. "Or the Frey shrine here just... better?"

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

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

Somehow, Mateo’s honesty when he says it’s good to see him, ends up as a strange sort of balm to Sunjata’s mind. As if this whole time he’d imagined himself as this monster throughout Caido where only the select few would even speak with. And while it still might be mostly true, the fact it hasn’t affected Ronin and Remi’s child, meant a lot.

So he nods, flashing a smile back that tugs on his scar as he steps forward to break the distance between them. “It’s good to see you too. I hope you’ve been well.” He adds casually, unsure what the young man has been up to since the war.

But that’s neither here nor there as he asks if he lives in Torchline and the Flood shakes his head. “Ah, no, I’m still living up in the refuge.” Until the brothel is open, at least. “This is just my favorite shrine. High up in the trees and away from everything.” He shrugs a snake scaled shoulder and flashes Mateo a small smile. “Get a bit more privacy with it than the Torchline shrine.”

the flood

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

totally sniped from odd ilu

Mateo

"I have," Mateo says with a nod and a dimpled smile. "I am a botanist up in Stormbreak. I own a flower shop." And other things - a lot of other things, in fact, but even Mateo with his heart on his sleeve knows not to introduce drugz within two minutes of a conversation starting.

"Oh, I see," he murmurs, tipping his head back to look up at the canopy with fresh appreciation. "It is beautiful here," he agrees, before gazing back to the Flood. "Do you come here often enough to know a good place to give an offering to Ghilio?" he asks. "I do not want to take it to a shrine just in case... well. In case somebody answers," he admits with a smirk.

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

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

“Flowers, huh?” Somehow it doesn’t strike him to be all Mateo does, but if the boys happy with doing whatever it is he’s doing, who is Sunjata to judge? After all, he’d had quite the variety of things under his belt – from owning a bar to a boxing ring, to being a leader of different regions. All a multitude of things he’d never have imagined he’d have done.

As for the offering, though, he glances around initially before his lightning scarred hand rises to rub at the back of his neck, huffing a soft laugh. “Fair enough.” He knows all too well how awkward that can be, so Sunjata takes a moment to gauge where exactly he is in the Oerwoud, what direction they’re facing in the Tangles, where he could try and recall where the offering would be best received.

“The Mistbanks, perhaps?” Nearer to the lush vegetation that would be growing this time of year, both in part from the Flowerbirth deity as well as a simply tranquil place to go.

the flood

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

totally sniped from odd ilu

Mateo

"Mm. I find it interesting how different flora thrives in different places. What you find here is so different to what grows in the Greatwood, for example," Mateo says, and despite Sunjata being absolutely right in the not-just-botany department, there's no doubt that the boy does have a passion for his plantlife.

"The Mistbanks?" he repeats, smiling at the name alone. "Sure. Is it far? I don't want to keep you if you're busy." Frey's demigod probably had a lot of important things to do which weren't to do with escorting him through the Oerwoud. "I don't want to upset Frey either, for taking up your time," he adds.

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

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

“They adapt to their environments.” Sunjata responds with a small shrug. “It’s surprisingly similar to people.” He tacks on at the end, flashing Mateo a small smile. Sunjata was one of those that had certainly had to adapt. Numerous times, not including his Outlander status. But from Caido itself.

As for the Mistbanks, he’s equally pleased when Mateo agrees, shaking his head to the question as well as the follow up. “Not too far. I’ll show you.” As if it might dissuade any thoughts Mateo may have over whether or not he was keeping him away from anything important. Sometimes his visits with Frey went on for a while, sometimes they didn’t. So he often planned accordingly. “Why would Frey be upset about how I choose to spend my time?” He asks after a moment, turning to pick the path that leads toward the Mistbanks, glancing over his shoulder for the young man.

the flood

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

totally sniped from odd ilu

Mateo

"Yes, I suppose that is right." Mateo agrees with a crooked sort of smile. "Apart from my friend, Everest," he concedes after a moment, however. "He is a sort of... specialist houseplant, I suppose. He has a lot of variables to consider in order for him to thrive in his environment. I am not sure he would adapt to any old place." Not like Mateo, who is trailing after Sunjata happily enough, hopping over the snaking movements of what he hopes is just a sentient vine and not an actual snake.

Nodding his gratitude and joining the trail towards the Mistbanks as well, the boy shrugs his shoulder a bit, simultaneously readjusting the bag of holding he's carrying. "When you have fathers like mine," he says with a smirk, as if that ought to be obvious. "Are you saying that Frey has never been mad at you at all, then? Never not been there for you?" Because that's how it sounds for a lot of people he's spoken to, honestly.

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

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

There’s a soft laugh that leaves him as he paves the way toward the Mistbanks, nodding in agreement. “He’d just need a bit more care to be able to thrive, hm?” He remembers Everest. Remembers the first time they’d met in a shift more or less the same, and it brings a soft smile to his face as he thinks on it.

However, the comment of Mateo’s fathers wipes it from his face easily – even if there was some amount of nostalgia in the fact that Ronin and he had been good friends once upon a time. Remi had handed over the leadership of Torchline to him. All of that under amicable terms before the war had broken out. It felt like a lifetime ago.

And the follow up question does have Sunjata wincing slightly, his steps faltering and slowing until Mateo’s beside him. “Frey’s never been mad at me, no. But… There was a time when I had asked for their help and they didn’t show.” His gaze remains focused away from the boy, off into the distance. “When I betrayed Safrin, your father Ronin had me try to make amends. And after she and I argued, she killed me. I prayed to them, then, and they never showed. Telling me later when I’d asked that I had wanted to get away from Safrin from her being too close, when I suppose it had swung the opposite direction to Frey where they had been a bit too far.” There’s the slight wince again, before he huffs a small sigh and looks to Mateo.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Ronin hadn’t healed me. Though I can’t seem to figure out why.” He has his thoughts, of course, why Ronin had constantly spared him from the consequences of his own actions. But he’s never had the chance or will to ask.

the flood

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

totally sniped from odd ilu

Mateo

"That's right," Mateo agrees with a nod and a grin. "But not too much care - he does not thrive well there, either." Everest is a delicate balance between constant supervision and needing to be left alone, and while others might deem him difficult or awkward because of it, Mateo (with his heart forever on his sleeve) would say he's his closest and dearest friend.

He's still thinking on the Attuned when Sunjata's steps slow, Mateo finding himself beside the Flood quite without realising it, and he gazes up only to try and fail to find his gaze. "Oh," he says softly, furrowing his brow and realising he's accidentally blundered onto a sensitive subject. "I am sorry, I did not meant to pry." Well, he had, but he'd expected more of a lol yeah, Frey left me with a boner that lasted four days rather than this.

Hopefully he can shed a little light on Sunjata's second point, though, Mateo's infectious smile returning. "My pa has a hero complex," he says easily. "He cannot help but do the right thing - it is like a habit or an addiction. For what it is worth, I am glad he saved you."

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

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

A low hum vibrates from his throat at the mention of Everest requiring more but not too much more attention. He decides not to add anything else, given the conversation shift, the way it delves toward Frey and the downside thus far. But Sunjata had taken it as a personal attack in the matter – as if in the few short weeks since he’d become their demigod, that he’d fucked up somehow and caused it so they wouldn’t respond.

In reality, it had been a sort of expectation given his previous relationship with Safrin. “You didn’t.” He offers Mateo easily, tilting his head toward Mateo with a slant of a smile. “You would’ve likely found out any other way. It’s not a secret, after all.” Much of what he did wasn’t a secret, even back then. And since the war, everything had come to light, enough so that it seemed as if Sunjata could barely harbor any secrets these days.

So much at odds from how he used to be.

His face does soften at the fact that Mateo is glad that he saved him, as if it soothes the idea that perhaps he isn’t as terrible of a person as everyone had made him out to be. “I am too.” He admits, even if he knows he’d been a pain in the ass for Ronin after that. Perhaps his karma had come with Nate’s death. He exhales a sigh that puffs out his cheeks, before he shakes his head. “We were good friends before the war tore us apart.” If there hadn’t been the war, would any of this had happened?

Would he still be under Safrin’s careful, manipulative eye?

the flood

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

totally sniped from odd ilu