nostradamus could never

"Mm, or maybe the crater is whatever's left of them," Dahlia says for the sake of playing devil's advocate - probably. Wiping the juice from her chin with one long finger, her head tilts, catlike, as she catches Sunjata's reaction (or the attempt not to have one, more like). "All this in the space of a year?" she croons, lips curling into a smile. "Happy anniversary."

Scooting to the edge of her seat, her eyes linger on the Flood's lips and then to the amber liquid in his glass, as if momentarily transfixed. "May I try some?" she asks; unsurprisingly, with the first taste of peach and cherry, already her senses seek out something new.

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

“Hmm.” Comes the low, accented rumble, gaze drifting as do his thoughts the second after he comments on the House of Midnight being open for this long. “Thank you.” A crooked smile is shit her way, letting his gaze take her in completely the second she scoots to the edge of her seat. And given her reaction to the fruit thus far, something seems to tell him it might be an exact opposite with the sharp burn of the whiskey when it hits her tongue.

So he mirrors her, legs drawing back so he can scoot closer, reaching out to offer the glass to her with his lightning scarred hand. “I will warn you, it’s not nearly as sweet as the fruit.” His hand withdraws to brush against the scar that sits on his face, propping his head up by the same hand, wholly fixated on her and her reaction to it.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

Accepting the glass and almost feeling the condensation blush against it from the warmth of her fingers, Dahlia examines the liquid within, followed by the scars that strike across Jata's hand - and the one that cuts through his cheek. "I consider myself warned," she murmurs, lifting the whiskey to her lips and taking a considerably indulgent sip from the glass.

There is sweetness, sort of, and a woodiness too, only for fire to ignite in her throat almost instantly afterwards. Inhaling only makes it worse, though Dahlia absolutely savours the pleasure-pain of it, her cheeks flushing and mouth watering from the bite of the liquor. "Gods," she hisses, pressing the glass back into his hands with a soft, wheezing laugh. "You made it look so easy. It's stronger than anything we get where I'm from."

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

She says she considers herself warned, but Sunjata remains silent in wait for the reaction. He smirks, watching as she inspects it, and does allow his surprise to cross his face when she takes an indulgent sip. The smirk spreads into a crooked smile, a huff of his own laugh leaving him as she presses it back into his calloused hands.

He lifts it to his lips then in response, swallowing down another sip of it as he feels it burn down his throat again, the taste lingering in his mouth. “I’ve been doing it a while.” He says, shrugging off her comment before his head tilts, still angled toward leaning toward her. “And where was that again?” North of here, or did it have a name?

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

"Clearly I am in need of some practice," Dahlia concedes, her lips still numb and throat on fire from the after-effects of the whiskey - not that she's complaining. Selecting another cherry from the plate, she mimics Sunjata and remains somewhat leaning forward, pursing the fruit against her lips. "It's some nothing village in the Wilds," she murmurs, slipping the cherry into her mouth whole this time. "You wouldn't know it."

Removing stem and cherry pit with fingertips stained red with juice, Dahlia lets out a soft, content sigh. "Would you mind showing me to a room? You're welcome to join me, of course, but I'm finding it a little crowded down here." And she can't decide if she enjoys it right now or not. There's a teasing sense of intimacy between she and the Flood, and she's unsure whether it's a string worth pulling. (Who is she kidding - of course she's sure).

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

“There is more where this came from.” He says, idly spinning the glass in his hands, the amber liquid swirling with the movement as she answers his question with an answer that only sparks his curiosity. “Ah, right.” He drawls, shifting to straighten up as she makes her request.

Of course, it isn’t something he can indulge in. But he can look and offer her to her room. “Of course,” he murmurs, though it’s unclear whether or not he’s answering both her suggestions or just one. He downs the rest of the whiskey, moves to stand, and offers his hand out for her to take to guide her up.

He already knows what room to take her to, already knowing there were fresh clothes and more drink and food ready within, but he opens the door to let her step foot in first. “You can make this room whatever you would like it to be.” He reminds her, allowing her to make all of the changes before he follows her in to show her the extras brought in.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

Dahlia doesn't know it yet, but she's about to be the queen of indulgence, so she'll be the judge of Sunjata if and when it comes to that, she thinks. "All the better for practicing," she says with a small grin - the warmth of the whiskey has spread from her throat deep into her chest now, and her fingers close around the Flood's as he gets to his feet.

Following at his heels on bare feet and with wide eyes that don't seem nearly as innocent as they should, Dahlia steals glances at the other patrons, other drinks, other scents and sounds and whatever glimpses within the rooms she might manage. It's a miracle she doesn't get lost, in fact, and she tiptoes into the offered room without hesitation.

Darkness blooms overhead instantly, only to explode with stars and nebulas, comets roaring and moons twinkling in every available space. Gasping softly, Dahlia twirls on her feet and tilts her head up to admire it all, almost tripping and falling into the white silk sheets of the bed beneath. "I have always adored the night sky," she whispers.

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

“Exactly.” Sunjata murmurs, letting the warmth of his calloused hand warm her own as he stands and pulls her up with him. It’s an easy guide to the room, but his pace is languid and slow – giving her time to look around and take everything in. Everything from the patrons to the rest of the food and drink, to the rooms and sounds that slip out from them the second a door is open. It’s all become static to Sunjata, a white noise of just… Normal these days. But it fades the second they’re in the room.

The door shuts behind them and Sunjata watches as the room changes into a series of colors and stars and nebulas, and he can’t help the way he feels like the absent tattoo on his chest starts to itch. “I used to love it more than I do now, admittedly.” He murmurs, not in a way that would have her change it if it were exactly what she wanted, but to give a bit of an answer to his shift in behavior.

He does approach the edge of the bed, where a nightstand is settled in black and ombres of blues and pinks to collect a pile of clothes to set beside her on the bed. “Here is a new set of clothes for you to get comfortable in.”

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

"What isn't to love about it?" Dahlia asks breathily, her face upturned to the winking sky above even as her fingers plunge into the beautifully soft silk, staining them slightly pink from the cherry juice. Letting her bare toes graze the plush carpet, eventually she's drawn from the nebulas overhead to the twilit silhouette of the master of the house. "That's very kind of you," she murmurs, glancing down at the clothes and selecting a nightgown to wear.

Rising to her feet - an action which brings her only inches away from Sunjata, she promptly draws her dress over her head, letting it pool at her feet and leaving her curves bare to the starlight. "What would this room be if you had decided to step inside first?" she wonders. "Who would I be?"

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

“A certain goddess of the stars might’ve ruined my taste for it.” He admits, thankful for the distraction to peel his attention away from the view of the sky and space above them to retrieve her clothes. He sets them beside her on the silk blankets, watching her as she rises to her feet merely a breath away from him. And perhaps he should know better, but the second that she starts to draw the old dress from her body, his attention flickers elsewhere and he steps back – keeping his gaze focused anywhere but her.

As for her questions? Well, “A place from Korofi, more than likely. It’s where I’m from.” An Outlander, where nothing here in Caido could ever replicate the cold, wet, and dreary city. As for who she would be, a hum of a soft laugh leaves him. “It doesn’t change people. But if you must know,” a brief pause as his steel gaze flickers back to her face and only her face. “I only partake in these rooms with my girlfriend.” Just ignore the fact he’s still wearing his wedding band.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

"No one really rules the stars, you know," Dahlia murmurs, enjoying the feel of the warm air on her bare skin, letting her fingertips brush along the inside of her wrist, up the length of her arm and to her collarbones. "Don't let anyone ruin anything you enjoy, that's what I say." Smiling and turning to inspect her nightdress again, all dark tresses and voluptuous curves, she repeats the word Korofi under her breath, as if trying to taste the word.

"Mm...?" The word girlfriend is an interesting one, Dahlia thinks, and she draws little meaning from it in the way Sunjata might intend. "Why?" she asks, turning back towards him with the nightdress draped across one arm. "You came to this room with me," she points out. "And I think you want to look at me."

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

“Mm, well, I think it’s a bit late for that.” It’s been years since he’s written the stars off. It’s to the point now where he finds little to no enjoyment in any thought of them. But he doesn’t feel as if he’s lacking from it. “But it is a good rule to abide by.” He agrees, careful to keep his attention only at her face or to the blanket of space above while he keeps his distance, offers his explanations, until she turns around and seems relatively confused over the whole ordeal.

Which is peculiar. “I,” he pauses because she finishes up with the thought of him wanting to look at her – which he is, right now, looking at only her face. “Because I made a promise to her.” He could slip on his charm, make it exciting and leave her on the edge for one of his workers to take care of her, but he isn’t sure if that’s a step too far in regards to his promise to Hotaru. “I came with you because I wanted to be sure they had set up everything you needed. But if it’s company you seek for the night, I have options for that too. Just, myself excluded.” His attention remains raptly focused on her face, blatantly ignoring the comment of wanting to look at her (which he assumes to be the rest of her).

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

"I didn't take you for a quitter," Dahlia teases, her eyes sparkling with starlight as she raises a brow up at him. "Perhaps the stars enjoy looking at you, hm?" With deliberate care, she draws the nightie up and over her head, smoothing it down until it just about skims her upper thighs. "That's a strange promise to make, for a demigod of Frey. Especially one in charge of a place like this."

It comes out as a remark rather than a judgement, Dahlia letting her fingers dance along the rest of the clothing he's kindly brought for her, before moving to the food and drink on the other bedside table. "I have all the company I need right now," she assures him, reaching out for a couple of glasses. "More whiskey?"

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

Perhaps she’s right in that Safrin didn’t own the stars – but here, as far as Sunjata was concerned, they bent and bowed for her. And by that logic, all he can do is offer a softer little apologetic smile (over not quite living up to the standards she apparently holds for him). “The stars tried to kill me.” He decides to offer the explanation regardless, looking away from her again the second she starts to dress herself, taking the moment to inspect the cosmos she’s decided was her ideal space. “Mm, it is, but alas I have baggage.” A lot of it. Trunk loads. So much so that after Nate’s death he hadn’t given into his usual coping mechanisms.

Like it broke a fundamental part of him and he’d pieced it back together differently enough. Regardless, as far as he was concerned, Frey was still pleased with the work he could do whether or not he participated or not. And while it wasn’t intended to come out as judgement, it still chafes against the part of Sunjata that had been conditioned to drive for success – to excel expectations. But she seems content with the company regardless and Sunjata finally lets his gaze land back on her again now that she’s clothed (enough, he can still see the lines of curves on her body). “Of course.” He mentions by means of getting more whiskey, stepping toward the door to crack it open and make the request, and not more than a few seconds later, a decanter of whiskey is handed to him. He closes the door once more, stepping back over toward her side where she has the glasses ready, pouring a knuckle’s worth in both of them before setting it on the bedside table. “Should be plenty to get you somewhat used to it.” He murmurs, flashing her a playful wink. still playing the part.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?