Solace in Strange Arms

you have survived every moment of your life

even the ones you swore you wouldn't

Harper had caught Sunjata's elbow before he'd left the meeting, quietly asking to catch up with the man before they'd all departed. It had been no small measure of relief that he'd felt when the Flood had readily agreed, and Harper had flown straight to the House of Midnight as directed once they had exited the nullifying boundaries of the Refuge.

These days, the only friend he can count by his side is Hadama, and Harper had reached for Sunjata with no small amount of desperation and loneliness to inspire the motion.

He isn't the first to arrive, but Sunjata has to take care of a few things before they can speak, so Harper finds himself drawn to the bar area. He has already claimed a booth for the both of them, though he sits at it alone. By the time Sunjata arrives, he will find a small graveyard of glasses on the table - a visual signifier that things aren't going very well for Harper these days. Glancing up, Harper gives a wan smile at the Flood and gestures for him to sit. "It's been a long time," he murmurs, keeping his voice low just to be on the safe side. "How are you these days?" The war had stolen much from the world, and while Harper had been luckier than most, he never assumed the same of others.

this time is no different

you will last

maybe i'll lie to you, maybe i'll play this role

maybe i'll act like my act is together

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected that Harper would be the one to catch his elbow for a chat, and yet here he is, after the meeting getting situated at the House of Midnight, trying to ensure that the workers within know that they’re serving one of the King’s of Torchline. Which, given his previous professional experience, should mean that Harper’s more than perfectly in good hands.

Either way, he doesn’t intend to be gone for so long, so when he gets to the bar he spots the man at a booth; one that seems already laden with empty glasses as he sits across from the other man, offering a soft smile of greeting that tugs on the scarred half of his face. “Too long.” His accented voice rumbles, looking over Harper’s shoulder to catch the bartender’s eye, getting a drink already ready for him alongside a glass of water that would hopefully help Harper’s sure enough hangover.

“I’m doing better these days than I was at the end of the war.” He admits, sitting forward, scarred arms bracing on the table as he slides the empty glasses to the side. “You seem like you’re wearing the weight of the world, though. What’s on your mind?”

maybe i'll cope with life without hope

maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor

SuNJATA

you have survived every moment of your life

even the ones you swore you wouldn't

Harper had been taken aback by the new scars he'd seen on Sunjata at the meeting, but already he had made peace with it, accustomed to war wounds and looking past them to avoid staring or questioning. As Sunjata sits, the Attuned bond will open enough for the Flood to parse the alcohol-tinged feelings of depression-fueled relief at having company on this night.

He opens his mouth to quietly - and hopefully tactfully given he's usually great at handling his alcohol - ask about Sunjata's experience after the war, only to startle and stare wide-eyed as Sunjata asks about him instead. Harper sits there for a beat too long, struck dumb by such a small kindness. When was the last time somebody noticed the weight he was under? Had the care to ask instead of politely looking away?

Maybe it's the alcohol or just his naturally soft heart, but Harper's eyes burn slightly as he considers the question. "Um," he clears his throat, trying to work past the way his heart cracks with childlike relief that somebody has seen him so plainly and unaware that the Flood will sense all of it through the less-than-controlled bond. "Phoebe disappeared right after our son Jude was born. Maeve helped me raise him since I was alone - and we became a couple. Then she disappeared in much the same way, and I...called it off." His hand tightens around his glass, gaze dropping from Sunjata's face to the whitening of his own knuckles. "Flora and I had a bloody political debate, and I was made King of Torchline." His free hand waves slightly, because it's clear Sunjata knows he is King at the very least. "My son aged up because I could not hide how I was struggling, and now I'm an empty nester in a huge house ruling a land I never thought I'd have to." Given he'd lived in Torchline while Sunjata was doing exactly that, he offers a wry grin to the man. "Not that I blame you for leaving. I meant - well, I never thought I'd be a political leader. I was always a military leader." Even if that might seem out of character for a man like Harper; modern, heart-on-his-sleeve, friendly Harper.

this time is no different

you will last

maybe i'll lie to you, maybe i'll play this role

maybe i'll act like my act is together

The surprise he gets from Harper through the attuned bond has Sunjata softening with a twinge of sorrow for the man. Clearly lonely – and not simply by choice it seems. Sunjata at the very least had isolated himself by pure self interest, he didn’t have a right to be upset when people didn’t come and see him or try to find him. He’d hidden himself away.

But he wasn’t what everyone did, nor did everyone deal with what he had to deal with, which he is glad for in a sense, even if he can tell the hurt Harper wroughts through the bond. He doesn’t say anything initially, instead, allowing his side of the bond to be something calming and tangible, something Harper can latch onto. A life preserver tossed out in the wild waters Harper’s drowning himself in.

“I’m sorry.” He says initially because he doesn’t exactly know what to say. He’d heard about Phoebe’s disappearance, had learned of it just before the war. And as for Maeve, well… Sunjata has his own opinions regarding the woman. But when it comes to Torchline and Flora, he also has no right to say anything about the young woman, hardly knowing her but knowing that she tends to get her prowess and her attempts at reaching higher than where she is from her mother.

But for Torchline’s leadership, well, that’s something he can comment on better. “You know I only left because Safrin wouldn’t allow me to lead with Nate at my side.” He doesn’t know who all knew the reason – just that he’d told people it was too much for the moment. Which… It was too much. Alone. And so he’d lifted Nate higher, only to have Safrin deny him the chance to continue, swapping Maeve in place of him. “That is… A lot, though. I can see why you’re drowning your sorrows. I can’t blame you either, given what I did after the war.” It wasn’t a secret that Nate hadn’t made it through the war, and given the silence that had come from Sunjata in the years past, well… it was evident he didn’t handle that well either.

So much so that the memory of it has him downing his entire glass the second the bartender drops by before he decides to just bring them the whole bottle and a pitcher of water alongside the glasses. “So are you looking to just try and compartmentalize it? Or have you come for advice?” Given that Sunjata hadn’t succeeded in his role at being a father (despite the rumors of Edmund’s parentage), he was childless now; but he had been married to Phoebe and had spent many a night with the previous Queen of Torchline.

maybe i'll cope with life without hope

maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor

SuNJATA

you have survived every moment of your life

even the ones you swore you wouldn't

Sunjata's calm is exactly what he aims it to be - a life preserver that Harper latches onto in his slight haze, bond easing open wider than he otherwise might have let it as he grasps onto that feeling with both hands. Harper admittedly expects the conversation to end at 'I'm sorry', given how many times it has in the past. Hadama never pushes him, always lets Harper find him on his own time, share what he needs to - but Harper is not the type of man to burden others, certainly not willingly. He moves to apologize for having dumped so much on the table all at once, perhaps even blame the alcohol, when Sunjata goes on.

Frowning heavily, emoting even more freely with the liquor in his veins, Harper's head shakes just a fraction. "What? For what reason? Safrin didn't seem to have any thoughts on who lead when I told her I was voted in so long as the region itself remained faithful to her." Right now he can't even remember if it had been Sunjata or Maeve who had sworn Torchline to her, so long has it been under her name in his eyes. Still, no matter his confusion and instinctive desire to defend Safrin, Harper is a tactile man. The reminder of Sunjata's isolation after Nate's death has him reaching across the table to grip the Flood's forearm with surprising strength for an intoxicated man, empathy and companionship drowning the bond with overwhelming sincerity.

"I lost the love of my life to war before I was brought to Caido. She died in my arms." He'd been useless, incapable of saving her even when she was right there. "When I heard about Nate...I wanted to reach out. I just wasn't sure if it would be offensive, coming from me." A man whom Sunjata was frankly not nearly as close with as others. A man who had lost next to nothing in Caido's war. "I'm sorry. Truly. Nate was an amazing person." Someone Harper had met frequently, but who had always seemed more like a flash of sunlight he couldn't catch in his hands than anything tangible, touchable.

Stunned anew when Sunjata asks him what he's looking for, Harper retrieves his hand and glances down, only now realizing the bartender had dropped off an entire pitcher of water. "Well...neither, I guess. I really did just come because I missed you." Which sounds almost childish even to his own ears, making him wince. "But compartmentalizing has never really worked for me." Too reliant on emotions, both good and bad, to force himself to go numb or overly logical. "So if you have any advice...?" Harper looks up, eyes a little glassy but still clearly, painfully hopeful. Desperate.

this time is no different

you will last

maybe i'll lie to you, maybe i'll play this role

maybe i'll act like my act is together

If memory serves, Sunjata had been the one to give Torchline to Safrin. And ever since then, she had started to become a stain on his life, manipulative in ways that he couldn’t see at first. Not until he’d gotten out from her thumb. Really, being Frey’s demigod had been like breathing air after being stuck underwater for so many years. Relieving. Revitalizing. “Because he was Ascended.” Sunjata says with all the casual air of that’s the only reason, thinking for a moment that perhaps Harper’s too drunk to hear about how the starry goddess of the sky had convinced their daughter that Nate was a spy and would murder her in her sleep.

It helps, though, that the second Harper reaches across the table and squeezes his arm, he’s not expecting the touch. He’s far past the point of tensing or twitching or flinching, though, so he offers a cool and collected boon of gratefulness that floods through the bond, enlightening the sorrow and loneliness that Harper feels. And perhaps, some amount of kinship, as Harper continues. “Well, we have that in common. I just didn’t think it would happen twice.” Perhaps not the right thing to say, but given that Harper had had two partners disappear on him since arriving here, perhaps not the wrong thing to say either.

At least they were alive, that was something. But for those with abandonment issues and intense guilt? Crippling. “Thank you.” He says quietly, unsure how to continue initially before he exhales a soft sigh. “I just found ways to try and cope with it.” Which, brings them to this part of the conversation, where there’s the flicker of surprise through the attuned bond as Harper tells him that he missed him, and he’s strangely charmed by it – thinking that nobody in their right mind seemed to miss him of all people.

Except for Hotaru, he supposes.

As for asking for advice? Well, Sunjata chuckles deeply, pouring himself a glass of more liquor, taking a sip. “Perhaps it’s what makes me a good pick for Frey, but, my typical ways of coping used to be drinking and fucking.” A casual shrug given before he returns his attention to Harper. “Wasn’t anything permanent, but, it helped to feel a little less lonely at the time. And you’re here, which means you can kill two birds with one stone, yeah?” A suggestion, before he waves his lightning scarred hand, filling Harper’s glass with more water from the pitcher in a smooth stream.

maybe i'll cope with life without hope

maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor

SuNJATA

you have survived every moment of your life

even the ones you swore you wouldn't

Harper recalls how she had given him his bisected staff, with its Ascended nullifying properties. "But...Frey let you include the Ascended in the Refuge's powers," he murmurs, clearly a sharp and logical man even when inebriated. Even when charmed by Safrin. "I know many of the heralds hated the Ascended, but they ruled the Grounds too." So why would it matter to them?

Harper is admittedly glad not to have been rejected in a way that would have been fair for the Flood to do given the Stalwart's uncommon touchiness. Well, uncommon by Caido standards. Standards that are partially to blame for why he is here at the bar now, lonely and lost. It's not something he wants to have in common with Sunjata - for both their sakes - but he manages a tiny smile all the same. What else can he say but more apologies?

Harper watches the water stream into his cup and grimaces, but - a rather submissive man at times when it comes to commands, even unspoken ones - he reluctantly takes it up and drinks from it. If Sunjata believes he's at his limit, it's best to acquiesce. "I've never been one for sleeping with anyone I don't have feelings for," he admits softly, moreso out of contemplation than shame. Harper has never been ashamed to be different from the stereotypical masculine mindset. "And I only drink when I'm...like this." His jaw feathers, clearly indulging in a moment of self-hatred as he holds his water cup and stares at the empty vessels to the left. "I have a lot of old war trauma. If I lose control...I'm always afraid it will come out. Hurt someone." A confession he has only ever made to Phoebe, but Harper believes Sunjata might be the only other person who will understand.

Gripping his glass, he props his other arm onto the table and drops his head into his palm, sighing. "But clearly it's not working for me anymore. Maybe I do need to try it." At worst, it wouldn't work. A humorless chuckle leaves him, emboldened by the liquid courage in his veins. "Gods, I haven't even been with a man since before Caido. I do miss it." Misses, desperately, the way he could give up control instead of always being expected to take it. Fuck, maybe he will take Sunjata up on that offer. That idea alone is immensely enticing.

this time is no different

you will last

maybe i'll lie to you, maybe i'll play this role

maybe i'll act like my act is together

“Frey is not like the other heralds.” He teases lightly, able to find the relief within it. Safrin and Ludo appeared… Greedy, manipulative, like it was their way or the highway. Frey on the other hand simply wanted life to move on with the least amount of damages. Their motto seemed much like the ‘have fun, enjoy, just in case it’s your last you should indulge’. Which, truthfully, Sunjata needs a bit more experience with it.

He's still a little touchy on the subject, of course. But he’s getting better. Enough so that he can offer advice and help wherever needed, and it seems like he’s certainly the type of company that Harper needs right now, even if in his mind the other man keeps checking all the boxes he himself had checked and bypassed what felt like ages ago.

It’s what sparks the rumbling chuckle from his lips, courtesy of the help with the alcohol and not the story that Harper provides. If anything, complete and utter understanding flows through the bond toward the King of Torchline, lips twisting in a playful smile. “It’s no wonder Phoebe liked you so much.” He drawls with a slight playful tone to his voice. “I did the exact same thing, and you know what happened? It never got to the point where I completely lost control. Arguments, sure, but everything else was purely just me.” Maybe a balm, maybe it doesn’t help, but Sunjata has to say it all the same.

As for the rest, he watches Harper’s head fall into his palm and Sunjata pours himself a bit more of the whiskey, sipping from it rather than downing it – even though it takes a lot more alcohol these days to get him fucked up the way he occasionally wanted to be. “What’s the worst that happens if it does or doesn’t? Besides, the rooms I offer are magical. They’ll be whatever you want in the moment.” A casual shrug before he continues, leaning across the table a bit to get closer toward the other man with a roguish smirk that tugs on the scar bisecting his cheek. “I know what you mean. We have options, though, whomever suits your fancy.” He leans back, swirling the liquor in the glass, his steel gaze flickering from it to Harper, a note of playfulness through the bond that aims to dash away the sorrow and loneliness.

maybe i'll cope with life without hope

maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor

SuNJATA

you have survived every moment of your life

even the ones you swore you wouldn't

"I have a lot of respect for them," he admits freely. "I just never thought I was uh...promiscuous enough for them," he laughs, shaking his head slightly. Then again, Phoebe was one of the most monogamous people he'd ever met, and equally invested in only sleeping with someone if feelings were involved - though she had refused marriage ever since Sunjata - so maybe he wouldn't be so amiss in Frey's realm. But he's Safrin's man. No sense in dwelling on Frey.

The playfulness doesn't escape him, and Harper chuckles in return. "You're right, I had no idea we had so much in common." And, because he trusts Sunjata's judgment as he always has, Harper's gaze is guileless and trusting as it locks unblinking onto the Flood's. Maybe he can trust himself. He's yet to have it happen, right? Maybe it really is an unfounded fear. "I never wanted to become an alcoholic," he murmurs, shame encroaching on the edges of his side of the bond as he looks at the discarded glasses, "but these days it's all that seems to help. I just always do it at home, because I've always been so scared." But if Sunjata believes it won't happen, Harper can't help but take hope in that.

As Sunjata leans in over the table, Harper can't help but be swept up in his humor, his roguish playfulness. Brightening like a sun that had forgotten how to shine, Harper smiles right back, easy to pull into one mood or another like a buoy drifting on someone else's current. "You're right. How else can I leave you a glowing review if I don't try it out? I have to use my weight as King sometimes." As if Sunjata needs the help advertising at all. Harper could never risk going to the Halenani no matter how stringently closed they keep their client books, but here? Here, he can trust he'll be taken care of. He just didn't expect that help to also come in the form of Sunjata's kinship and kindness.

this time is no different

you will last

maybe i'll lie to you, maybe i'll play this role

maybe i'll act like my act is together

Truthfully, you didn’t have to be promiscuous enough for Frey. After all, Harper had known Phoebe to know that was a lie, but Sunjata doesn’t feel the need to mention it given that the man before him was wholly Safrin’s. It’s a conversation that has him humming a sound of understanding under his breath before the tone shifts, toward their camaraderie in just how similar they were without realizing it until now.

Their eyes meet and Sunjata remains that effervescent, playful roguish character even as the murmuring reaches his ear. “And what exactly do you think you’re going to do here that I won’t be able to stop?” Exactly nothing – if his magic and shifts and his reputation were anything to go off of. Nobody messed with anyone within this establishment, and if they did… Well, it usually ended up with him handling the situation. And in most cases, people tend to calm down once a demigod gets involved.

At least, in his experience.

But Harper latches onto the sensation through the bond and Sunjata leans back somewhat, still aiming that charming grin toward the other man. “Now you’re getting it, Harper.” He rumbles, an air of approval flickering through the bond as his voice drifts into a deeper range from his playfulness. “Feel free to try it out.” He raises a scarred brow at the other man, as if waiting with bated breath for him to test it.

maybe i'll cope with life without hope

maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor

SuNJATA

you have survived every moment of your life

even the ones you swore you wouldn't

What others might see as arrogance, Harper sees as a safety net, and it only enforces the clear fact that he trusts Sunjata that the anxious cut of his shoulders ease instead of worsen at the implication that Sunjata can and will stop him if he becomes a thread. "You're right. Gods, you'll never get rid of me now," he laughs, shaking his dark curls slightly. Why would he ever want to leave a place he feels safe, a place he can unwind and indulge his loneliness and escapism without fearing himself?

Sunjata's encouragement is all he needs, even the way the Flood says his name making him shiver with anticipation even if the demigod won't be the one in his bed tonight. Still, he goes a bit shy, leaning across the table a bit. "Can I shift while you show me my options? I would feel so bad saying no, even if I'm sure everyone you employ is quite professional." The flush of color in his cheeks makes it clear Harper would care far too much about their feelings, even if he'd hardly be at risk of hurting them.

At Sunjata's (amused, but still) agreement, Harper shifts to his gore crow form and quite gracefully hops across the table to step onto the Flood's hand, allowing himself to be lifted and perched on the man's shoulder so they can venture forth to find a suitable companion for Harper for the evening.

this time is no different

you will last

maybe i'll lie to you, maybe i'll play this role

maybe i'll act like my act is together

“Might be part of the plan.” Sunjata drawls with a playful smirk, keeping it lighthearted enough that no second doubts could start to spread in Harper’s mind. The goal here is temporary relief, and maybe it would help pick up his mood to know he’d be welcome at any time.

He picks up on the shyness, though, and he tones it down slightly as he lets his smirk shift into an easier smile, less roguish, less like he’s trying to pick him up. “Of course.” Any way to make it more comfortable for the other man.

He easily slips the gore crow up onto his shoulder, finishes his glass, and moves to stand out of the booth and moves upstairs easily. Already there’s the faint noises from this floor that can be heard when he calls forward those who are available for a reservation, and Harper has three to choose from; a tall, gorgeous man with the smattering of freckles and hazel eyes, a woman with long dark hair, braided back with plenty of curves, and a shorter man with a short crop of blonde hair and honeyed eyes and suntanned as if he’s just come back from a vacation in Torchline. None of them are attuned, so feel free to tell me your pick. And if they make it quick Sunjata can pick for Harper and to get him set up into a room with everyone else none the wiser.

maybe i'll cope with life without hope

maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor

SuNJATA

you have survived every moment of your life

even the ones you swore you wouldn't

Sunjata needn't worry, as Harper is only bolstered by the toothy grin and playfulness. It has been starkly lacking in his own life for years now, starving an integral part of himself. Flirtation, mischief, fun. Things he'd once exercised at large, and then reserved for his partners. Now, without them, he'd forgotten how to initiate it - and Sunjata was gracefully picking up the slack.

Even from his (very tall, wow) shoulder perch, Harper's telltale blues might seem a bit odd on a gore crow, but given none of the three are Attuned they likely won't even question it. Sensing the surface layer of the plan of expediency that Sunjata has in mind, Harper looks between the three available; dismissing the woman out of hand for now, he gently grabs the top of Sunjata's ear in his beak (which is admittedly unnecessary) and translates his choice through the bond. The taller man. It still comes out a little shy, even with the increased privacy, but at least he's expedient about it.

Now all he has to do is sit perched on the Flood's shoulder and wait to be told what to do next.

this time is no different

you will last

maybe i'll lie to you, maybe i'll play this role

maybe i'll act like my act is together

It doesn’t take Harper long to pick, which helps make it seem as though Sunjata isn’t the one picking for himself — and it offers the easy segue of his voice reaching out to his workers. “Jameson, go ahead and get ready. Whichever room you’d like and just let me know so I can send him up.” He rumbles, giving them all a brighter smile and a nod once Jameson picks. “Thank you all.” He drawls, turning away to head back down the stairs toward a place quieter and hidden.

Whenever you’re ready. You’ll be in room four. He sends the second that he thinks it’s been long enough for it to seem like it was a casual reservation. “Is there anything else you need?” He hums, giving Harper the space to shift back, and the second that he does he straightens out the other man’s collar, hands smoothing over the other man’s broad shoulders, in his space as if helping to try and get Harper into the mood.

A combination of hands off and hands on.

maybe i'll cope with life without hope

maybe i'll open the door and fall through the floor

SuNJATA