everybody knows i'm a king without a crown

better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low

Even as he attempts to be suave and playful, mysterious almost, he can’t help the way how her face scrunches with her distaste over him calling her a liar brings another bright laugh from him, even as it’s toe to toe with the way the magic tingles along his skin, like trying to wake up an appendage that has fallen asleep.

She grins at him, though, and he should know better with her to assume he’s won (when has he ever?), and she succeeds in heightening his body temperature, beads of sweat forming at his temples that due to the humidity in the water, stream down the sides of his face as he squints at her, lips still quirked in that amused smile, even as he starts to pant for breath. “Well that’s certainly a much better punishment. It’s already hot.” He admits with a whine, using his freehand to conjure some fresh water that’s hopefully just a bit cooler than the hotsprings, and dumps it onto his head and hers with how close they are, without giving her any insight to what he intends to do.

SUNJATA

you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you

If he thinks he can be dark and mysterious with her then he is sorely mistaken. Hotaru has seen him sleep-ruffled, drunk, and snoring. There is no mystery anymore. Now that doesn't mean she isn't susceptible to his posturing and smirking, but those are in short supply given the way he laughs at her pouting so there's hardly any danger yet.

Oblivious to whatever he's planning - and dearly enjoying the way he sweats and whines at her treatment - Hotaru is the one to laugh brightly this time. "Exactly, I thought you came here to sweat!" If she'd had the time perhaps she might have wiped away the sweat from his temple with her thumb, but he clearly already has a plan in motion to cool himself down. One that makes Ru splutter and recoil as the cold water splashes against her with how close they are, feeling like ice with the temperature difference and disrupting the focus of her magic to give him further relief. Blindly holding onto his shoulder with the arm that had been torturing him, she lifts her free hand to brush the chill off her cheeks and eyelids, pouting. "First of all, rude." From his shoulder, she angles her hand to flick at the backside of his ear. "You ask me here and don't even bring your manners? I have half a mind to leave." An empty threat and they both know it, but clearly petulance is her best defense when their magic is so perfectly contrasting.

better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low

Oh, he’s so pleased that she has no idea what’s going on – it gives him time to formulate the plan of dunking water on them slyly, enough that he can snort and offer a chuckle to her retort. “Not this much!” Comes the added whine, another bead of sweat dripping from his temple along the curve of his cheek, until precisely the moment when he drops the bubble of water atop them, immediately shivering at the temperature difference (despite there being a minute amount, given that it’s the equivalent of room temperature but still feeling cooler than that heat by the springs beneath them).

As the splash and waves dull down and she sputters and recoils, his arms find her to keep her close against him, barking laughter as she flicks at the backside of his ear, incapable of keeping the grin from remaining on his face – so much for the suave and mysterious look he’s going for. “You knew full well I barely had manners to start.” He teases her, and goes so far as to stick his tongue out at her as if to prove his point.

SUNJATA

you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you

His whining makes it hard to keep her facade in place, wanting so badly to laugh or have pity on him because it’s frankly adorable. There’s something to be said about Hotaru’s love for bullying people, but Sunjata has always played into it so well it’s almost impossible not to. Though he certainly has enacted his own fair share, which is why Ru should have anticipated revenge.

If anything she might have anticipated his water magic grabbing at her, not his arms. She yelps a laugh as he snags and pulls her close, skin to skin and half-tangled up. The sudden drop in her stomach and jolt in her head are concealed by the way he sticks his tongue out at her, juvenile and - for a moment - carefree. Stop, look how happy he is, she chides herself, and definitely does not focus on the warmth of his arms around her as she instead reaches to try and grab his tongue with her fingers in an equally childish expression. “You’re right, and I stayed anyway,” she bemoans dramatically, but there’s something a shade more tender in her eyes that makes it more honest. So, to counter it, she drops her head back, dramatically baring her throat and pressing a hand to her forehead as she sags all her weight into his arms (not that it’ll do much). “And now I’ve been captured and my fun has been stolen!” Because why stop the idiocy now?

better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low

Despite it being juvenile and childish, it’s enough to keep Sunjata from thinking about everything else. Enough that he sticks his tongue out at her once he’s grabbed a hold of her, despite the way they’re tangled with only the boon of his orca tail to keep them both upright and the rocks that dig at his spine. And when she reaches to grab his tongue, she misses only by a hair, but not before he partially shifts it to the forked, thin tongue of his cobra shift, wagging each individual end at her as if to say nope, gotta be quicker than that, before it disappears into his mouth again.

“You did.” He agrees, his smile shifting a bit softer, his arms around her growing less tight as the realization sinks in, that they’re both happy and carefree, and being absolute fucking idiots but having fun, and he can’t really remember the last time he felt so distracted from everything else going on to fully enjoy moments like these.

She’s quick on it, though, because the second that the thoughts start to creep back in, taking in her appearance with the way her gilded hair sticks to her pale skin, the way she fits so easily in his arms, the way there’s that bidden bit of regret that burns after everything he’s done to her – she sags into his arms dramatically, causing him to tighten his grip back up, shifting slightly to lean over her as if he’s losing his grip – it’s all pretend, of course, he isn’t going to drop her or let her go, not when he has her so well in hand right now. But he preens for her with the grin shot her way, his next words overtly cliché, but he can’t help it when they fall from his lips. “Well, I am a dragon.” And what were they typically found doing? Guarding the damsels in their towers.

SUNJATA

you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you

It’s a devilish little move, and Hotaru’s fingers bump up against his mouth as his tongue retreats scant moments before she can grab it, so she squeezes his lip instead to exact payment. Letting go only once she can feel his mouth purse with the start of words.

And it’s here that shows how well she knows him, knows his grief - though clearly not the rest, things like golden hair and wet skin that she doesn’t even consider to be a possibility of distraction in his head - because she knows not to let either of them linger long in the moment.

He leans over her as if dipping her in a dance, and the bubbling water tickles along her back and makes her stifle giggles. Not once does she think he’ll drop her, even if historically maybe she should at least wonder. Though she immediately wishes he had when his rebuttal is so utterly ridiculous, making her push at his damp shoulder and groan dramatically. “Oh, that was terrible!” Laughing, she looks up at him with his water-dark, tousled hair and boyish grin that makes all the scars and touches of grey seem to fade away, and she silently revels in it. “But am I a damsel or part of your treasure hoard?” Her playfully narrowed eyes makes it clear there’s a better answer here, but she won’t give away any clues as to which.

better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low

He won’t drop her – knowing better than to do that now even if he’d been so blinded in the past to let his emotions and fear get the better of him. And it’s at this point, this moment, that Sunjata has one exact thought that runs through his head before he offers his terrible, nerd joke. It’s that he has absolutely nothing to lose. He’s lost everything that he held so dearly, so why was he so terrified of admitting things? In giving in? What could Caido possibly take next?

Luckily, she pushes at his shoulder and laughs, and he grins an easy boyish smile back down at her, toothy and playful as she narrows her eyes at him and he can’t help the quieter rumbles of chuckles that slip from his chest as he keeps his arms tight around her. It works in his favor as he dips her back up and against his chest, so that his back can rest against the stone again and he can adjust the scarred orca tail that she uses to help bolster herself up. “Certainly the most important of my treasure hoard.” He doesn’t know if it’s the right answer, and after a second of thinking, he realizes she might not know that he does actually collect and hoard a lot of things, varying from books and items to people. It’s part of the reason he was so protective of Nate at the end.

“I do, actually, have a hoard. Did you know that?” He adds on suddenly before he can think about it, loosening his grip slightly to give them a bit more space.

SUNJATA

you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you

Even if she wished to struggle against him - which she does not - Hotaru certainly can't stop the way he pulls her back up and against both him and the scarred tail beneath her, supported on all sides. Grinning and light-hearted, she isn't expecting him to say something so...honest. In fact she prays he's merely joking, because if it's anything less than dramatic she doesn't know what she'll do. Because he's wrong.

In fact, she's so stunned - and surely he'll see it all there in her eyes, raw and uncertain as they stare into his own - that she can't come up with a response, merely holding onto his arms and trying not to automatically assume he's mocking her. Until, blessedly, he says something else. Something she can actually answer.

"No, I didn't actually. But I get it - I have a den." A reflection of her first shift, the big cat that lives in her soul and craves soft things and thick bedding. The falcon urge to nest and the komodo urge to burrow had not exactly improved upon that initial desire. "What sort of things do you collect? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she goads, reclaiming that former energy with an impish grin.

better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low

He’s hoarded quite a few things over time, mostly things he kept hidden under his bed — books and trinkets and the like, but before the war he had been a hoarder of people too. He’d let his draconic protectiveness impart a lot of his brash and impulsive decisions with Nate, protective over Kamaria when she was there. And now, he supposes relationships are another that he tries to hoard, only because of how few and far between they were.

He doesn’t actually intend for it to come off so sincere, noticing the second that the surprise comes into her eyes, the way his arms tighten around her slightly as if realizing it, and uncharacteristically for him, he flushes a shade darker than the warmth of the springs has already made him. But he latches onto the question he gives her.

His smile shifts to becoming lopsided, head tilting slightly as he nods his understanding. “That makes sense.” He could see her with one, perfectly at home and comfortable. “Ugh, it’s going to ruin the facade I have going on.” He drawls, head angling up as he breaks eye contact, staring toward the sky as he heaves a very dramatic sigh.

“Books, mostly. But I keep a lot of different trinkets I had originally planned to attach to things but they just stay there.” He shrugs as he looks back down toward her with a snort. “Your turn.”

SUNJATA

you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you

The color in his cheeks would inspire a coo, or perhaps even something charmed in the pit of her stomach, but this time she has to stare at the edges of his tattoos to keep control of herself and her thoughts. There aren't exactly excessive therapists in Caido, but Hotaru has been forced to be quite introspective given the effects of the war, and she doesn't want to doubt or hope in the aftermath of his...admission? Joke? Regardless.

"Ruin? You barely had it in place to begin with," she refutes teasingly, though he'd been close for a moment when he'd pulled her close and entrapped her, disarmingly suave. Mysterious hadn't even been on the table though.

Books is not what she expects to hear, and though she valiantly tries not to laugh she can't help it, those childish mean girl tendencies positively gleeful at the idea of something so nerdy. "Really? You can't just leave it at that! What genres? How many do you even have? Where do you keep them?" Eyes practically gleaming with the hunger for more ammunition, needing the details before she can twist them to use against him.

Of course that's when he turns the tables, and Hotaru goes suspiciously silent, immediately regretting the trade she'd offered. There are easy answers she could give. Half-truths and diversions. But if he'd been even remotely honest with his earlier joke then maybe he deserves something in return. "I have a lot of the standard den items; furs, pillows. A few scented sachets, though I'm very particular even when I'm not shifted." She always has been; perfumes, candles, incense, all of them subjected to her incredibly sensitive and picky nose. To say the least Sunjata's magically-accurate scent is distracting with its rare appeal. But now it's her turn for her eyes to slide away and her cheeks to darken, but also for the bond to slowly narrow as if against her will, wanting to simultaneously be honest but finding the idea of being seen nearly unbearable. "But I have a horrible habit of stealing clothes from loved ones for their scent, even once it fades. I - I have one of your very old shirts in there." Having accidentally been thrown in her bag the day she'd left, and yet she'd never been able to part with it after all these years. Vainly searching for a diversion, she laughs, a little strained. "Half the fun is playing dumb when people complain about missing items, or sneaking certain ones back to trade out for fresher things." Something that brings her no end of entertainment, a never-ending game of thievery she has yet to be caught in.

better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low

“Hey, now who’s being mean?” He asks her, a teasingly crooked smile on his face before he unloads the fact that his hoarding generally involved books. And he is surprised when she laughs, rolling his eyes in the face of it with the smile still on his face, arms still wrapped around her as a boon to keep her upright in the water alongside him. “Thinking about stealing them, huh?” He flashes a more roguish grin at her with a spark in his eyes that seems to suggest she’ll have to see it for herself and that he wasn’t going to divulge all of the information possible.

So he exhales a slow sigh, letting his steel gaze focus on her own dual toned ones again. “Histories and some fantasy genres.” The way the words leave him almost seem like pulling teeth, but he shakes it off to turn the question onto her – watchful and curious what kind of things she’d collect for her den.

Of course, a lot of them are what he expects, even after her suspicious silence. And he hums his understanding over the scent of things, having grown more appreciative of them as of late. But he doesn’t expect to hear that she’s stolen one of his, the way her eyes slip from him and her cheeks darken, and his arms tighten around her as a huff of a surprised laugh leaves him. “Hotaru,” he drawls, not even a little bit upset about the fact she has one, but the tenderness in his gaze speaks volumes should she look. “Please tell me it isn’t the green stripey one.” He doesn’t know what it could be, but that shirt had gotten lost and it was one of his favorites – having just assumed it had gotten misplaced somewhere.

His arms still remain around her, however, his touch and body language screaming something soft and gentle and appreciative when he hums a bit brighter of a laugh. “You little minx.” He teases her, before his head tilts and he thinks on it. “What else have you snuck away?”

SUNJATA

you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you

“I might be inclined to steal them if they’re interesting enough,” she teases, amused by his reticence. “Though I might anyway just for the excitement of stealing from a dragon and seeing the reaction.” The intrigued, eager gleam in her eyes makes it clear this is a definite possibility in the near future, no matter the repercussions. It’s the equivalent of a challenging heist which is catnip for the Valkyrie. So even though she’s more intrigued by the fantasy novels than anything historical, it already implants itself into her mind as a target.

The tables turn on her immediately however, and her cheeks go only darker as he croons her name in disbelief, making her choke a laugh and tilt her head to the ceiling in the vain hopes of not utterly combusting. The way he says it is just - Gods. He can surely feel the way her fluster fills the bond with girlish embarrassment, fluster, and butterflies. “Sunjata!” she parrots, though it’s far more strained and pockmarked with the titters of laughter. Falling quiet only when she looks down and sees the tenderness in his eyes. Then she drops her forehead onto his shoulder, nose against his clavicle as she groans. “Yes. It’s the striped one.” And he can surely feel the helpless grin pressed into his skin.

“So many sweaters and mittens. I don’t know why but mittens in particular are a favorite, and so easy to steal in Halo.” And both easily lost and easily replaced, so nobody ever questions it. “I stole Nate’s jacket for a while, and then had a tailor recreate it. But it didn’t smell the same.” Not that she’d bothered to remove it for that reason. What else? “A few of Melita’s socks because she’s hard to steal from. Beanies, sometimes. If the den starts getting too big I sneak items back to their owners and take something else,” she laughs into the salt of his skin.

better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low

“Only you could want to test such a reaction.” He huffs, letting the conversation slip away there – not even sure what he’d do but knowing now that the second he gets back to the House of Midnight that he’s going to need to catalogue them. More work to do, even if it’s for what is quite likely a joke. But what if it isn’t?

Luckily, he distracts her with the way he drawls her name, a bright smile blooming on his face as soon as he feels the way she reacts, the bond opening with all of that embarrassment, fluster, the tenderness and butterflies of something so innocently childish that he can’t help but to open up his side to her in return. It’s similar – a warm, honeyed feeling, dripping with playfulness and pangs of shock the second that she grins into his skin that it was the stripey one. But the bond also opens up that protectiveness as his arms move to wrap around the middle of her back, a rumbling laugh slipping from him. “I wondered where that had gone.” He murmurs softly, head angling up as he exhales a forlorn sigh at the memory of that specific shirt.

But he draws silent to listen to the rest of her chosen items, head angling again to press his scarred side of his cheek down atop her head, humming a soft sound of note when it came to easier things like mittens, versus Nate’s jacket., versus Melita. “I have a different jacket of Nate’s that I’ve kept. It still smells a little like him.” Ingrained into the fibers was that distinct Ascended Nate scent that Sunjata would never forget. “I would never try to steal something from Melita of all people.” He grumbles with a softer laugh, sure that she can feel the way he shakes his head.

And after a moment, as the silence overtakes his thoughts, he speaks again, softer and more tentative as if he isn’t sure what the answer would be. “Do I… Still smell like me to you?” Because the magic shifted and changed with every person now, how is he to know what he smells like? If it’s even remotely close to what it was like before.

SUNJATA

you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you

Nothing can compare to the intimacy of the bond, and she'd often mourned seeking out Frey too late, wondering if things might have been different if they'd been able to share in the honesty of their own emotions. But here and now it is honey on her skin, a protective layer of warmth that pools in every crevice, inside and out. It appeases the possessive feline inside enough to begrudgingly offer, "You can have it back if you'd like." She'd never assumed it would leave her den given reconciliation seemed so impossible, but now things are different. He deserves the option to have it back, even if it unequivocally smells like Hotaru now instead of himself after so many years. Perhaps that's why she's more inclined to part with it since his ghost doesn't live in the fabric and seams any longer.

It's painfully nice to talk about Nate without wanting to gouge her heart out of her chest. Even these idle, passing comments are a comfort, the same way talking about Enzo without discussing his death helps her remember the young man he'd been instead of the life that had been cut short. It's easy enough that when he mentions Melita, she laughs openly against his damp skin and pulls back to sit face-to-face once more, amused and at peace. "She's the one I fear retribution from the most, but it's almost impossible to resist the urge so I always end up going back." Hotaru shakes her head, grinning shamelessly. "I even went so far as to find the shop she buys from so I can replace them with new pairs. It's a very involved heist." One the Honeybee hasn't caught wind of yet, and Hotaru would like to keep it that way.

The sudden lapse into silence triggers a small flicker of concern in the bond, the emotive equivalent of a question mark without ever opening her mouth. Not that she could have expected such a question. Clearly, it bothers him, but Hotaru can't figure out why. Is he worried he smells differently after becoming a demigod? Something with the House of Midnight? "What do you mean? You smell the same to me as you always have." Unaware of just what she's revealing with not only her confusion, but her utter certainty. Leaning forward, she lifts a hand to firmly wipe the water from his neck before pressing close enough that her nose is nearly to his skin, inhaling slowly with both human and animal senses activated in turn before retreating with a puzzled frown. "Yes, still you." As familiar to her as Deimos', or Tal's, or Flora's. She could parse the undertones in her sleep like a collector describing a fine perfume.