(SE) never really had a way with words

when driving past your house, the taste of iron in my mouth
or the shame, that i have to look like mom

Coming back to Torchline, he certainly hadn’t expected it to be so soon – but upon working on the reconstruction of his office space in the House of Midnight (after making promises), he’s reorganized the shelf that held the lanterns of Nate and Lusea, realizing belatedly that while he’s thinking relatively clearly, he has time to be able to readjust and fix up a few parts of them.

Nate’s, in particular, had been crafted well by him, but had been made mostly from items found in their old house in the Boondocks and other things found in King’s End or traveling carts. Torchline, however, had been a huge part of their history, and in order to update it he realizes belatedly that there are things he should return to the ocean region to retrieve.

So here he is, with a small little bag strapped along his back and the bag of holding in hand that holds Nate’s lantern, he slips toward the shop they’d been to in order to make their wedding rings, flashing the merchant a small smile of greeting as he’s recognized, and makes his request for a larger version of the detail on their rings (the crescent shaped detail on his own ring, alongside the sun shape that Nate’s had born, blown larger to be melded around the outside of the lantern).

And when that request is made, he slips toward the streets of Haulani, toward the sandy beach to pick a wooden bench and stone table to remake the lantern in order to fit the new additions.

the flood

disgraced, i made me my father's son
you're still to close to me, i swear at night i feel your breath

Unsure if he'll make it back home in time to retrieve his mother's lantern, Koa thinks it best to simply set about making a new one. This is easier said than done: despite his surname and family history, Koa's skills as a craftsman are rather lackluster at best. An engineer of vibes rather than structure, he had offered Noe moral support as she artfully constructed the one that now rests in a place of honor on their mantlepiece.

So it is no surprise that he opts to buy a pre-constructed framework, despite knowing full well that his father might have an aneurysm should he find out. He figures he will make up for his sins by adding his own décor, specifically shells and beach glass melted together through dragonfire.

He's on his way back from the beach to collect his framework when a lanky figure on a bench stops him in his tracks. Koa can't help it: he's a bit of a nerd, and so of course he's seen renditions and heard descriptions of Sunjata the Flood, Demigod of Frey. So when he finds the man on the street, sitting there, making a lantern without a care in the world, well...

"Mister Sunjata, Sir?" The young soldier stops in front of the older man, Pip peering curiously down from his shoulder. A piece of smooth blue sea glass slips between fidgety fingers, hesitation and eagerness warring through tense muscles and into bright eyes. "I hope you don't mind the interruption, it's just... well, I've read and heard a lot about you. Kind of an honor to see you here, in the flesh."

be love in its disrepute,

scorches the hillside and salts every root

when driving past your house, the taste of iron in my mouth
or the shame, that i have to look like mom

This certainly isn’t expected. He’s half into taking apart the lantern to retrofit it with where the new pieces will go, when he hears his name alongside a mister title that has his brow lifting, eyes sliding toward the stranger as he’s greeted, a small look of confusion crossing his steel gaze.

And gods if the little amount of information that Koa has given doesn’t boost some internal ego that’s been snuffed under, he doesn’t know what will. “I don’t mind. Would you like to take a seat?” A lightning scarred hand gestures to the bench across from him, an offering to talk more should Koa wish to.

“I didn’t realize things were written about me, to be honest.” He rumbles with a huff of a laugh, his accented voice painting the air between them as he starts to continue tinkering with the lantern.

the flood

disgraced, i made me my father's son
you're still to close to me, i swear at night i feel your breath

"Sure!" Koa's enthusiasm at being asked to sit is innocent and palpable, and he's almost bashful as he slides into the empty space at Sunjata's side. Pipsqueak, of course, has no such qualms: she is quick to slither off Koa's shoulder, her snout extending curiously toward the collection of lantern pieces, nostrils flaring and large ears dancing expressively on a furry head. The Dragoon keeps a hold on her as best he can, trying to prevent her from fully scrambling into Sunjata's lap where she's sure to attempt some larceny. "Sorry about Pip. She has no decorum." A dramatic sigh accompanies the complaint, Koa shaking the dragonling with fond exasperation.

He nods eagerly, somewhat surprised Sunjata doesn't know this. "In school we had a whole section on demigods," Koa explains, "And their roles in the war. I always thought it was admirable, how Frey's chosen created a haven for the preservation of those who could not fight." Not taught, because this was essentially propaganda, was Sunjata's role in the fall of the Tower. All credit for that had gone to Wessex and Nate, and it's a good thing in this moment, for Koa would look quite less reverently at the Flood were he to know the truth.

be love in its disrepute,

scorches the hillside and salts every root

when driving past your house, the taste of iron in my mouth
or the shame, that i have to look like mom

The stranger immediately sits with all the innocent excitement of someone meeting a celebrity (and it almost feels like how things had gone once upon a time back in Korofi), but luckily for Koa, Sunjata’s eyes focus on the dragon that slithers off his shoulder, closing in on the pieces of the lantern before noticing it seems like she’s looking for a lap. Sunjata simply hums a soft laugh, arms opening a bit to let her should she wish to explore. “That’s okay, I miss having a companion just like that. Mine would always find a way to cause problems.” The smile on his scarred face seems to suggest that it’s been long enough now that Haai’s death wasn’t as painful as it once had been.

It's true, though, he does miss having a companion. Though he isn’t sure if it’ll be worth trying to bond to another one after the heartbreak he’d gone through having his soul torn up the way it had.

But his gaze lifts toward Koa as he explains the schooling he’d done. And while he isn’t bashful, per se, he is unable to keep the soft smile from his lips as it boosts a little hidden spot of his ego. This close to him, Koa might notice the barrage of Ascended bite scars that remained etched as pale little marks in his sun-tanned skin. “It was… A lot of work to get it together. Talks with Frey and the Voice over how exactly it would work.” But they had done it, and the refuge still stood as a reminder and a symbol of sorts. A place for safety, even if the barrier that had once kept it safe was no longer around. “But it did, and everyone in there came out the other side.” Which was the goal, right? Frey had told him they wanted him to make sure life went on.

And it did. Even if it was hard and it hurt.

the flood

disgraced, i made me my father's son
you're still to close to me, i swear at night i feel your breath

Pipsqueak needs no further invitation: she slithers out from her bonded's grip like a mink-coated eel, immediately depositing herself amongst the Flood's bits and bobs. Curious little claws reach out for a particularly shiny piece of glass, the dragonling inspecting it with the critical eye of a natural born hoarder. Koa, for his part, watches with fond exasperation that shifts to surprised sympathy when Sunjata speaks. "Oh, you... Fuck, I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to say, doesn't know the man well enough to pry further, so he contents himself with feeling for the bond he shares with Pip, suddenly more aware of and grateful for it than ever before.

Koa wouldn't know an Ascended bite if one appeared on his neck. Truth be told, the sheltered lad has never personally met an Ascended - unsurprising, considering he came of age in a place designed to keep them out. Which is to say, he does not notice the Ascended bites, especially as they're wrapped up in the entrancing tattoos that litter the Flood's shoulders and neck.

The young man nods seriously, his gaze shifting to the lantern pieces he's now pulled from his bag. "Not everyone did," he murmurs softly, rubbing a finger tentatively over a piece of blood-red glass. He doesn't say more, doesn't want to, just leaves the unsaid hanging there. They're both making lanterns, so they both know loss.

Sometimes it's enough to simply know that someone else gets it.

be love in its disrepute,

scorches the hillside and salts every root

when driving past your house, the taste of iron in my mouth
or the shame, that i have to look like mom

“Don’t be sorry.” Sunjata says quickly, smiling as Pip embarks into his lap alongside all his lantern pieces, “it’s been a few years since.” He’s learned to live with it and deal, though the trauma through the Attuned bond when it had happened is still something that he hates that he shared with Remi and Ronin at the time. Ah well, such is life.

His lightning scarred hand lifts to run along Pip’s back, fingers gently running along her scales as the dragon shift in Sunjata feels extra protective over the young companion, distracted by it momentarily as he looks back over to Koa when the conversation shifts into serious waters. “No, not everyone did.” He agrees with a soft sigh, lips twisting toward a frown, steel gaze lingering on the red glass he pulls out of a bag and Sunjata moves to start piecing together his lantern again despite Pip’s hindrances. “My husband died in the war. This is his lantern.” He says softly, opening up a little to see if Koa would reciprocate or appreciate the closeness – also unsure if that was even noted in the books that he was married to the opposing side.

And he wonders if it even matters anymore to Stormbreak, where the lines had been drawn.

the flood

disgraced, i made me my father's son
you're still to close to me, i swear at night i feel your breath

He watches the way Sunjata plays with Pip, the scarred hands disappearing into salt-stained fur, eliciting a purr of delighted contentment as the dragonling rolls over to expose her scaled belly, long body contouring to the curves of the demigod's laugh. It fills him with another pang of appreciation, and sorrow, because for what little time Koa has spent thinking about how glad he for his bond with the wyrmling, almost none has been devoted to imagining how its loss might feel. "Pip's still young - we only bonded this year," he says quietly, reaching out to fiddle with the end of her tail. "Do you... have any advice? On being a good companion to her?" It's an opening, if he wants to talk more about his own absent friend.

Here's the thing about Stormbreak: it's very advanced and shiny and developed, but it was also under the leadership of insular racist fuckwits for centuries and bad habits are hard to break. Is it a surprise, then, that the history books might fail to mention a marriage between two rival demigods? That they may not want obedient young soldiers to think too hard on the complexities of life and love, the grey forces of the world that can, at times, overpower even the gods?

All this to say: When Koa asks his next question, it is with sincerity and innocence, not some hidden agenda. "Why didn't the gods protect him?" Because if one was beloved of a demigod, it seems to reason that the Heralds would step in, would make some effort to keep them safe.

be love in its disrepute,

scorches the hillside and salts every root

when driving past your house, the taste of iron in my mouth
or the shame, that i have to look like mom

Does he have any advice? He actually does, surprisingly. And as the dragonling shuffles into his lap and rolls over to expose her belly, Sunjata’s hand moves to gently pet along her scales, looking back over toward Koa with a softer tinged smile. “They know your emotions just as much as you can feel theirs. Listen to them, they only want what’s best for you, because what’s best for you is inherently best for them.” If he had listened to Haai a bit more often, perhaps things might have gone differently. Perhaps he would have left her at home, knowing how dangerous that relic hunt was.

But he didn’t, and he lives with the regrets of it. Alongside many other regrets. The majority of them coming up, actually, in the conversation as he explains that his lantern was for his widowed husband. And there is surprise hidden there when Koa asks him why the gods hadn’t saved him, causing his attention to drift toward the lantern in turn, Sunjata’s head tilting to the side as if he’s trying to figure out the wording of such a thing. After all, everyone practically knew. It was rare for him to find someone who didn’t know about him in such a regard.

So he takes a deep breath and continues to pet Pip’s stomach for his own internal comfort, wondering off topic if he should get a cat to stay at the House of Midnight. “Because he was one of the Voice’s demigods.” He admits, finally tilting his steel gaze back toward Koa. “I had hoped that selfishly the Voice would allow him to stay in the Refuge with me, but she didn’t. And, as I’m sure you know, the Voice lost and most of the Ascended died in the war.”

the flood

disgraced, i made me my father's son
you're still to close to me, i swear at night i feel your breath

Yeesh. Koa cringes inwardly, feeling rather bad for Pip as he thinks back to his tumultuous emotions over the past seasons. Luckily the dragon seems rather unfazed, baking in attention like the honeyed ham she is. "I'll keep that in mind," her boy promises, smiling as he fidgets with Pipsqueak's tail. "Thanks."

The boy thinks he's hit a nerve with the question, immediately regretting his curiosity. But that anxiety is nothing compared to the wild surprise at Sunjata's revelation that he'd been married to a chosen champion of the enemy. Copper eyes grow wide before he can stop them, the information processing visibly on his face. "But... wouldn't the Heralds have forbidden that?" he blurts out with all the subtle tact of a bee-stung elephant. "I mean-- I'm sorry, but he was Ascended. They were responsible for the war."

A war which cost the young man his mother, and Koa's knuckles whiten as his grip on her lantern grows tight.

be love in its disrepute,

scorches the hillside and salts every root

when driving past your house, the taste of iron in my mouth
or the shame, that i have to look like mom

A hum of you’re welcome leaves Sunjata, preoccupied by the dragonling as he removes one hand to start pieces parts of the lantern together, awaiting his companion’s reaction to the news he drops. And it’s taken precisely how he expects it to be – the large amount of propaganda that has proven that he couldn’t change the world as much as he had hoped.

What he can do, however, is answer the questions as honestly as he can, as middle of the road as he can. “Frey didn't care. But Safrin tried, in a way.” But he’d betrayed her in favor for Frey who didn’t care who Sunjata loved. And for that, the Flood was forever grateful. But he does hum a soft little laugh when Koa blurts out his surprise. “The Ascended weren’t directly responsible for the war.” He says, casting his gaze back toward Koa, raising his scarred brow.

“The Ascended wanted to just live. It was the heralds that as far as I’m concerned are responsible for the war, used people and their followers as their puppets.” His tone takes on a somber note, his scarred face looking more serious as he tries to catch Koa’s attention, imagining he won’t take kindly to that answer. “Nobody won in that war.” Sure, the Old Gods side technically won, but what came from it? So much blood.

the flood

disgraced, i made me my father's son
you're still to close to me, i swear at night i feel your breath

"How did she try, if I may ask?" And why is not said - it simple makes sense that Safrin, that any Herald, would try to keep a demigod from a relationship with the enemy.

He tries to listen with open ears, but good gods is it hard to break through a lifetime of indoctrination just because one (admittedly epic) demigod has suggested he do. Koa is too young and too sheltered to understand the world in nuanced shades of grey, though his viewpoint has expanded in the time he's been out of Stormbreak; still, the young man bristles as all blame is laid on his gods. "And the Voice wasn't responsible?" he accuses fiercely, shaking his head in disbelief. "Without her trying to break the natural order of things, none of this would have happened."

At least they can agree on one thing, and that is that the war cost more than it should. His grip still quivering on the lantern, Koa looks back to his hands. Brows are knit together in quiet pain as he thinks of the day Stormbreak flew into the sky, of the reports of death and destruction everywhere. "Maybe if more people had been prepared, we might have lost fewer lives." Sure, Sunjata's shelter had done a lot, but what about the rest of the world?

Koa sighs, exhaling some of his tension, his shoulders rolling in a sad shrug. "I guess it doesn't matter who started the war. It happened, and people died." He sounds older than his twenty one years, a man and not a boy as he traces a dragon motif on the stained glass. "That's what I want from the Dragoons. To give people the power to protect themselves."

be love in its disrepute,

scorches the hillside and salts every root

when driving past your house, the taste of iron in my mouth
or the shame, that i have to look like mom

“Oh, you can ask.” Sunjata offers, flashing Koa a small yet gentler smile – if not tinged a little in excitement. If only because Sunjata would take any chance he could to drag the starry goddess’ name in any way he could. And selfishly, he was close enough to her to know how that would continue to burn her. “Well, she told me she could keep my husband safe in the war, but I had to make a deal with her. A life for a life, so,” he pauses, moving to start adding the pieces back to Nate’s lantern. “I had a kid with her. And in the end, it didn’t even matter.” Another casual shrug. “I’m not sure if your studies covered my betrayal of her, but that was part of it.” An offering to share more should Koa wish him to.

As for the war, Sunjata snorts and shrugs. “I’m not saying she wasn’t. She just did the same exact thing the Heralds did. What I’m saying is that the people she made weren’t responsible.” Because there’s that separation – where people like Nate had chosen to Ascend and been promised a life of no illness, no pain, only to be used as weaponry for a brewing war. “Besides, half of the fighters the heralds used wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the Voice taking us here.” Ronin and Remi, for example, are both Outlanders like himself.

But they can agree on the fact that the war did happen, and bad things came from it, and Sunjata alongside so many others were never going to be the same. As for the Dragoons, Sunjata hums a thoughtful sound, glancing sidelong to Koa as he fits another piece of the lantern on. “For Stormbreak’s people, or make it bigger than that?” He asks out of pure curiosity.

the flood

disgraced, i made me my father's son
you're still to close to me, i swear at night i feel your breath

"That's... not in the books, no," Koa agrees blandly, because how else is one to respond to such a revelation? Zuko.gif 'That's rough, buddy'? He'd heard that Safrin could be fickle, but to abandon the father of her child? The young Dragoon isn't sure how much of Sunjata's story he believes, but the casual, even way it's all presented sure does add credibility.

He doesn't pursue it. His worldview has been rocked enough for one day: any more challenge and the poor boy's brain might stop computing. Immensely relieved to be back on familiar footing, Koa brightens considerably as the conversation turns more fully to Dragoons. "Bigger," he replies confidently, clicking the walls of the lantern into place. "I want it to be an organization anyone can find find safety in.

"Wouldn't hurt to have a demigod in the ranks," he adds with limited subtlety, glancing sidelong at Sunjata who, what do you know,  just happens to be a demigod himself.

be love in its disrepute,

scorches the hillside and salts every root