One foot in sea and one on shore

// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //

The question isn’t one he expects to hear, evident in how the pinch in his brow grows deeper, watching her for a moment before he looks out and around, gaze drifting from the stones to the warring waves in the background, listening to the moving of people and the calls of instruction over the faint wind. And eventually, his attention rotates back toward her, especially when she meets his own gaze, something raw and open and broken in it that pangs in a space Sunjata had been in not that long ago.

“In my experience, it’s more of a… Need. A requirement. There’s no enjoyment, but there also isn’t no enjoyment. It just simply is.” He pauses, falling back into the character trait of not being able to use words well. So he works his jaw slightly and regards her openness, mulling over his words until it can make sense. “It’s purely survival, nothing more and nothing less. Some of my shifts enjoy the aspect of hunting, though, if it helps. The stalking through grass or circling from above just waiting for the right time. But ultimately, the act of it is just transferring it. You sacrifice them so you can live. Anything after that is just... human.” He doesn’t know if it helps, but he does reach up to scratch at Petronella absentmindedly, reading her face and offering his own relatively open, freckles lining his face alongside the pale scar that puckers along his cheek and the one that bisects his eyebrow.

“I survived a year after the war eating only when my shifts forced me to. I can’t begin to understand what the bloodlust is like, but I imagine it’s similar to that.” But as for her worries? “It doesn’t make you a monster, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just part of a natural order.”

the flood

// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Plucking at her sodden sleeves, hungry for any sliver of thought or advice that might settle the conflict within her, Maea kept watching Sunjata as he processed her question. She had surprised him, she realized, and kept surprising herself with how important his thoughts still were to her. Even after all this time.

What he eventually offered... was not quite what she had wanted to hear.

"I did that too," she admitted softly. "After coming back, when I realized what I'd done. I only fed when it was necessary, and sometimes not even then." It was Amun who had turned her away from that. Him dragging her bodily back to the Grounds, where she was safe. No more roaming, no more self destruction. "I told myself that it would be different this time, now that I actually can feel again. It's just... so overwhelming. And I don't trust myself. There's a part of me that doesn't care about what happens to people... like I could step on anyone and feel nothing at all about it." Like with the hospital she had burned, or the girl she had attacked. All means to an end, callous and cruel. "I worry that it will grow. Take over. I think... if that happens, there's no going back."

Maybe she wasn't a monster now, but what if she fell too deeply into the predator, and forgot what it was to be human? She could appreciate the notion of order, just as when Danta had told her of Dygra and Caido - in theory. Never had she considered becoming the one to shed blood and take and take until she was sated. That wasn't her - was it?

Frustrated, Maea rubbed damp palms against her eyes. Wiping at tears that shouldn't fall, pressing a little too hard against the eyeballs until the ache reminded her of life.

"I'm sorry... I didn't intend to bother you with this. Or anyone else, for that matter." Sounding hoarse, the smile she flashed at the Flood was too sharp, more a grimace that did nothing to lighten the mood.

Maea

// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //

A nod of understanding comes from Sunjata, if not a hint of sorrow at the memory. He had lost so much that he’d holed himself away in King’s End, refraining from venturing out except for when his shifts gave him no choice, supplanting the rest of it with alcohol and sleep. He didn’t even go and see Frey until much later, afraid to see what he’d find, forced to wear a blindfold in order to talk to his god so he wouldn’t have the heartbreak of seeing him when he’d yet again not had the chance to say goodbye.

It took Isla to get him out of it. A shared sorrow between them that had created the brothel in King’s End, that had spurred his steps to recovery. And as she continues, he hums a soft little sound, hand dropping from where he scratches the sea panther on his shoulders. “You have to not let it take over.” Sunjata admits softly. “You don’t have to go and eat people for the bloodlust, maybe you go off and have a little deer hunt, bring the rest or another back home to share.” Keep that semblance of helping while also selfishly helping yourself.

At her apology, though, he shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s good to get it out.” He offers quietly before shrugging lightly, again to not bother the cub. “Besides, if anyone knows what it’s like to toe the line between monster and not, it’s me.” That was half of the reason they had so much shit between them when they’d been together. Even the sharp toothed smile she offers doesn’t phase him, having seen it in himself time and time again. “Frey is of the mindset that who cares what happened, you’re here now so get on with life and everything it’s got to offer.” In response to her sharp toothed smile he shoots her one of those roguish smirks, a Cheshire grin that’s different from the last time she’d seen it, only because it’s permanently crooked now with the scar that curls on the corner of his mouth. “So if I made it through being a public enemy for years, I think you’ve got a shot Maea.”

the flood

// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Biting her lip to hold back protestations, it was hard for her not to point out that people remained included in the things that made her teeth itch. Perhaps she didn't have to go after them... but the urge to would always be there. How could she ever get close to others like that? It was impossible, a recipe for disaster and bound to get someone hurt. They, if she lost control, and she when they found out and left. Sunjata made it sound so easy, but Maea just couldn't let herself believe that it would work.

Bowing her neck under the weight of churning thoughts, it took her name on his tongue for Maea to look up again. Catching him smile, a pang shot through her chest, bitter and sweet; more sweet, actually. It had been a lifetime since Sunjata smiled at her.

"When did you become so wise?" she murmured, lured to return the gesture with an expression that softened ever so slightly. "I hope you are right. I've never been good at getting on... but it would be nice. Misery is becoming a bit... old."

Acting on an impulse, Maea reached out a hand and ran a clawed finger down the sea panther's nose. Soft and warm to the touch, the sensation in and of itself was a sign of change; that it almost made her cry again from sheer joy, that she was even capable of accessing those kinds of emotions - it had to be a good thing.

"Thank you, Jata. For listening."

Maea

// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //

He could absolutely counter the same argument when it came to his dragon shift – he just had to be aware enough to steer it into ramphires and the like. But it isn’t aired, it isn’t said in a way that Sunjata can hear, so he’s resigned to offering her what he can, relaxing as the seconds go on to see his previous lover start to soften, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as the tension drains from him and he exhales a sigh. “Could’ve been the lightning strike I took to the arm. Or… The drowning. Or when Safrin killed me.” He lists off just a few, making a joke of his life altering events, only because it was easier than to continue to dwell on the what ifs and maybes.

“It’s important to want to learn to change. It was a lesson I had to get beat into my head a few times.” And so he tilts his head in as close to a shrug as he could, right when she reaches out and runs her finger along the panther’s nose, and Petronella offers as close to a purr that she can before she scrambles down from his shoulders to aim for Maea next.

At her thanks, though, he nods, softening equally as much. “Yeah, of course.” He certainly isn’t the same man he was before, now he harbors an air of strength and confidence that bleeds from him that hadn’t been there before. It's made things far easier.

the flood

// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

It shouldn't be funny. It really wasn't, really, except Maea understood the overehelming chaos and madness in Sunjata's predicaments all too well, and she coughed to disguise the startled laugh that threatened to spill out.
"Ah, yes. It might be that. Then, given how I was eaten by a Ghost whale, busted out of Mort's realm to Ascend and then became Ancient and spent a few years as a stone statue, there must be hope for me too." A pale brow rose, testing his own willingness to laugh.

Maea knew she wasn't quite at the point where these things had ceased to bother her yet. Saying it out loud was enough to make her head spun, Sunjata being right there in front of her was like having her insides seared over hot coals and the coiling pit viper of self-contempt slithered through her bowels as usual... But she was alive. Alive, alive, and she kept breathing and sensing the ground under her hands, the water at her feet - and even though the Flood smelled of whiskey and sunlight and freedom, she had yet to either kiss him or punch him.

And if she was stuck halfway between creation and destruction, child of Dygra in love with all of Caido's creations... so what? She could figure it out. Somehow. She could learn. If Sunjata could... he had always been the bigger mess between the two of them. It shouldn't be half as difficult for her to change.
"Biggest problem is, I don't really know what to do differently," she admitted. "All the things I used to want lie behind burned bridges. My magic, Halo - " you. "I don't know what to do with myself, or where to be, or how to find out."

Petronella came clambering towards her, and Maea grew very still as clumsy paws made the transition. Her own shoulders were far smaller and narrower than Sunjata's, and it took some positioning before the heavy weight settled across her neck and shoulders. Warmth bloomed against Maea's skin, slightly wet and smelling of cats and oceans; very carefully she raised her hands to pet the companion. Unsure of what to do. Half reluctant to accept that it felt good, that she enjoyed being touched - even by an animal.

Searching Jata for answers, she perceived the difference in him, like a stillness on the surface of a pond. Currents might still rage beneath, but in this moment at least, he seemed more himself than she'd ever seen before.

And she wouldn't be human if she didn't feel stabs of regret for what she'd lost. What could have been.
"What are you doing, these days?" Just a little bit of self-torment was fine. Just for today.

Maea

// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //

Unlike her attempt to hide the startled laugh, Sunjata lets his own slip from his throat, a warm rumble of laughter for his own misfortune now alongside hers as she lays it all out too. Of course, it ends with a soft sigh and a smile, a nod granted in her direction. “I’d say there’s a chance.” He offers, focusing his attention back onto her as she starts to explain the deeper thought process.

He has no idea how deep his presence here hurts, but from recent comments from Isla, he should be more aware of it. Being Frey’s demigod has changed him immensely, practically making him a billboard with his strength and magic. He’d gone from just a rebellious arrogant asshole that followed the goddess of the stars to essentially being a fallen, broken thing, raised by Frey into the heights of power and strength, learning over and over again how to simply live and thrive in this new existence he finds himself in.

“You explore, find new things to find enjoyment in.” And he pauses, watching as Petronella settles on Maea’s shoulders, a soft exhale leaving him as he looks away and out toward the violet sky, the waves that crash in the back. “When Nate died, I…” nearly drowned myself in the sea to get rid of the feeling that always seemed to happen to me, losing the one I love again and again and again… “Had to find out how to live. I avoided Frey because I was terrified of seeing him in their face. I just wasted away in King’s End, avoiding everything and everyone. But I had to find purpose. Frey and Isla helped with that, admittedly.” He winces slightly, shaking his head, lifting a hand to run through his hair now speckled with a few streaks of grey. “I was a demigod, sure, but I was worthless and useless. I needed to do something more than just drink.” And perhaps Maea would notice that he doesn’t say drink and fuck, that part of his coping mechanism dying immediately the second he’d learned what happened in the war.

“So I did.” His gaze flickers back toward her, the water dripping down from his shoulders from Petronella’s squabble to get off his shoulders leaves the bronze hued skin blackened with floral tattoos wherever the water touched. “So to answer your question, I made a brothel in King’s End. I worked to make the region livable, which it is now. And I rule it.”

the flood

// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

It used to be her favorite thing, making him laugh. It was still satisfying, in a way. Pleasing to know that the times of tearing into one another whenever they crossed paths might be over at last, good to realize that she was capable of more than just hurting him. Maybe she would never entirely get over this man, never completely forgive him, or forget the disasters they unleashed on one another in the name of love and lust... But as Maea listened to him talk about Nate and how devastating it had been to lose his husband, she found that she just might be able to let him go. He was not dead, not beyond reach; still here and very alive, and her hands still ached with the urge to reach out for him - she knew the feel of those dark curls under her fingers, and knew that he would be just as warm and firm as the colt she'd held in her arms - and Maea Valair knew that the singular worst thing she could do was to try.

She buried her fingers in Petronella's fur instead, with a dignity she never knew she possessed.

"Purpose, huh," she eventually sighed. Turning her gaze to the sea, she contemplated the solutions Sunjata had found for himself, and how suitable they seemed. How fitting it was that the Flood would carve out a path for himself, like the unstoppable force he'd always been. He had made a place for himself, and was governing it, protecting it... Moving on.

"I'm glad. I hope you find happiness there, too." Genuinely.

She kept her face turned away when her eyes began to burn again. Catharsis came with the realization that she didn't hate him, didn't blame him for finally doing what she'd hoped that time, when she had gone away and left him behind. If she cried this time, it was for herself; for the ache of loneliness and the realization of how far she had left to go to even come close to where Sunjata was now. And while she could ask him for advice... every step she took from here on out would lead away from him, and from what they had shared, and everything she had used to dream about.  

Like a candle before a raging bonfire, Maea's shoulders slowly bent under the onslaught of her own emotions. When she couldn't hold the grief back any longer, scarred and ruined hands rose to cover her face. Crying helplessly into them, powerless to carry it all within herself any longer, her small, delicate body shook from the heartwrenching sobs.

Maea

// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //

He’s cautious at first to bring it up – knowing the kind of wrench thrown into everything between them that Nate had been. And yet, the Ascended demigod had shaped him, changed him, destroyed him when he’d died that Sunjata had no other choice than to piece himself back together – only it had taken quite a long time to find all the pieces. And even now, there are parts that feel as though they are missing, filled by the memories Hotaru offers when they find it in themselves to even talk about the Lone Ranger.

Petronella offers as much of a purr that the sea panther can, content to be pet by whomever was willing to give her attention – bonus points for those that seemed apprehensive at first, as Maea had. And for him, well, his attention finds her pale face when she looks out and away from him, taking the moment to study her and see the horns that sprout from her head. “Purpose.” His accented voice rumbles the repeated statement.

As for his happiness, well, he is happy. “Hotaru has been helping me with that.” He offers as gently as he can, precisely at the time that her shoulders slump and Petronella slides off to offer comfort where she can, the Flood watching as she tries to hide the tears that fall and feeling as though part of that is from his presence and admissions.

They aren’t close anymore, but that doesn’t mean that Sunjata doesn’t care. He’s less of an asshole these days, far more cautious of people’s thoughts and opinions than he had been before, whether or not he listened to the instinct. He’d been paying attention, and it’s something that has him reaching for her as he shifts into a better position, giving her no warning and knowing it’s likely the last place she wants to be, but he pulls her in for a hug – to let her cry on his shoulder if she needs to.

Because even though his heart feels like a punching bag on its last thread of hope, it’s still there. Still enough to offer what comfort he can to the people that had changed and shaped him along the way.

the flood

// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Whether Sunjata was responsible for her tears or not was beside the point. The important part was that she let them fall, let him pull her close, allowed herself this moment to do what she should have done in the days and weeks after they broke up. Dying and being pulled back from death had interrupted a process that might have been far less devastating if Maea had been able to grieve properly.

But she had not, and now here they were. Here she was. Burying her face into the shoulder of the first man she had ever loved, a mere vessel for emotions that always seemed a size too big. She didn't know how long she spent overflowing. Only noticed, gradually as the wrecking sobs subsided, that Sunjata's touch didn't quite burn her skin the way it used to. When the storm calmed into the occasional sniffle, it was the weight of Petronella on her lap that helped her move again. Gentle strokes from balled up knuckles turned into full bodied caresses when pale fingers unfurled. Contemplating the change in a sluggish, absent way - and what it might mean - until the young woman began to feel more like herself again.

"I see... you and Hotaru, huh." It was a late response, muffled and pinched as her nose was thoroughly blocked. Mulling over that little nugget, Maea found that she was surprisingly okay with the idea. "Good... that's good. You suit each other."

Gently untangling from the Flood, she offered him a watery smile that wasn't forced; the most relaxed and genuine expression she'd offered him in years. Pained, yes, and tired, raw and upset - but not with him.

Maea

// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //

She lets it all out and Sunjata is silent while she gets through her tears, holding her and scanning the world behind her for however long it takes before her shaking starts to cease, when the lid of the bottled up emotions begins to find its way back onto a mostly empty vessel while Petronella offers comfort in the sense of a warm lap.

Her voice is late in response to his words, and he doesn’t find himself shying away from the fact that he and the Valkyrie have started over, a new beginning for the both of them. Still, it sparks a low hum of a laugh from him when she says they suit each other, allowing her to untangle from his embrace as he settles back to give her space. “Yeah. I think we do, too.” He admits, even if at times it felt like they suited each other a bit too much.

But things were good and he was happy and strong and living the life a true demigod should, immortal and powerful, a walking billboard for the aspect of Frey in which he followed. Even still, the genuine smile she offers him relieves some previous tension he hadn’t realized was there, a factor that has him settling a bit easier, breathing a bit lighter, even if it already looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders after so many years of letting it beat him down. “Are you feeling a bit better?” He asks curiously, wanting to ensure that she was at least fine before he felt okay about it enough to depart.

the flood

// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Good. Jolly good. He was happy, they were happy, and Maea was alive, embarked on a quest of self discovery. The board had been set back full circle to where the pieces had been before spite weddings and riverside encounters, only older now, and wiser. This time, Maea knew better than to kiss married men, and he knew better than to ask for it, and with a bit of luck she would not hurt herself on hope any longer.

"A bit better, yeah. Thank you." Gently scooping Petronella from her lap to return the companion to Sunjata, Maea rinsed her face to erase any trace of the tears. Her eyes remained a bit puffy, but for the most part she did feel better. "I should probably head back to work soon..."

There was no real urgency, only a sudden need to close this chapter in her life before anything could muddle the moment. Doubtlessly they would meet again - but Maea had a feeling that things would be very different by then. Wanted, and needed it to be; it was the whole point of moving on.

"Are you staying long in Torchline?" Pulling her feet from the shimmering heat of the pool, she rose and stretched out her back, stiff from sitting awkwardly for so long. The leathery tail coiled lazily around her knees, moving with a life of its own

Maea

// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //

Honestly, had not so much happened in the past years, he likely would be a similar man to who he was – flirtatious and playful, willing to dive in with whomever offered their bed. But then Nate had died and he’d been unaware, unable and incapable of using it as a distraction with how far down he hated himself, finding comfort in the bottle and too many cigarettes a day, holing himself away in the refuge until he was forced to come out.

Which, truthfully, doesn’t bode too well for a man who’s supposed to be a walking billboard for the sex god. He supposes, at least, that now with the healing he’s undergone and the connection with Hotaru, that he can balance both with how he is listed on the options for the House of Midnight, but a packaged deal with Hotaru alongside. A mix of both to sate both who he’s become as well as who he’s supposed to be.

“You’re welcome.” He rumbles softly, taking Petronella from Maea to slip her back onto his shoulders, her paws pressing in against his bicep as she stretches and he moves to stand again, straightening out his shirt and clothes. Her next question has his gaze lifting toward her, shaking his head before he rubs at the side of his face where the scar puckers the most. “Not long. Just came to help where I could. I’m sure the House of Midnight probably needs a bit of help since I’ve been gone.” The brothel he runs, having given them instruction for a certain amount of time before he needs to return to continue the efforts of helping those displaced by the flooding.

the flood

// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //

I'll drown eventually so don't save me

Their eyes met as Sunjata spoke, and while the conversation had turned very mundane, there was something so profound about the moment that it staggered her. It was as if her feet landed solidly on the ground only in this instance, so hard that the connection of her soles with the earth rattled up her spine and made every instance between her awakening and now seem a daze or a daydream.

Alive. Alive alive alive alive she was ALIVE, and bound to no one and nothing, freer than she had ever been - able to go and see and do whatever she wanted. While she had friends and acquaintances remaining, this was the last chain that really tied her to the past... and the force of it snapping was such that the impact landed only later.

Maea smiled fondly at Sunjata so that she wouldn't tear up again and nodded, excessive bobbing of the head replacing words she hesitated to set loose, in case they trembled. Without ever seeing the place, she could still picture it. Knew him well enough, she thought, to understand his tastes. But then she suddenly sobered, because this man also had a penchant for trouble.

"Be careful out there," she said. "These new creatures, and the meteor... I've a feeling things are going to get bad." As a demi-god, he was bound to get involved somehow, and while she was content to let go of their old relation... she still cared about her friends."If there's anything I can do to help, I'll be in the Grounds."

Maea