you should know, that i'm a ticking time bomb
and you're getting close
Lusea was as much a part of him as anyone. Had changed him, had shown him the world. Perhaps it was much like he had been to Maea – that person that could show that there were better things out there, harder… But better, if the work was to go into it. And she hadn’t trusted him at first, hadn’t trusted him because of what he was and it had been an effort to prove it to her that he was different from the Senzaoks that preceded him.
Here? Here his reputation was shit but for a different reason, a different one that he wasn’t sure was as bad as being a murderer. He had been the golden one, brought down to the shadows of the slums, only to find that the shadows had been his upbringing, and the shadowy slums bathed in sunlight. And he missed it. He missed her. He wishes he’d never messed up, that perhaps she’d still be here.
She had been the one for him, to challenge him, unafraid to fight back when he got into his ways. Phoebe had said that it wasn’t love, that because she made him into the man he was rather than the soft boy of his childhood, that he’d been used. But it’d never felt like that with her. He is who he is because of what she’d done to him, for him.
And it was all unfair, for Maea and everyone else. And perhaps that’s why he was always dissatisfied with what he found here – because he always tried to find her, that flame of confidence and fury that singed against his waters, but still roared high enough that he couldn’t drown her. Perhaps that’s what he needs.
He shudders when Maea leans in and presses her lips to his forehead, eyes shuttering closed and he holds her there, hurting again and again, fucking up over and over again. But at least it had been honest, that it had been this confession and not the fact that he’d tried to find the flame in someone else. But he lets her go when she steps down from the table, away from him, and he leans forward to brace his elbows on his thighs, hands reaching up to cover his eyes and rub at them.
She tells him she needs to go find Shii, and he’s half tempted to let her and let it end like this – but something in him burns and rages, as if this wasn’t enough of a goodbye. Not like Hotaru and him had, with their rules and thoughts laid out. “Maea… Wait.” He rumbles, lowering his hands from his face, making a motion to push himself off the table, swaying on his feet.
He can’t tell if this is a goodbye, but it hurts all the same.
Here? Here his reputation was shit but for a different reason, a different one that he wasn’t sure was as bad as being a murderer. He had been the golden one, brought down to the shadows of the slums, only to find that the shadows had been his upbringing, and the shadowy slums bathed in sunlight. And he missed it. He missed her. He wishes he’d never messed up, that perhaps she’d still be here.
She had been the one for him, to challenge him, unafraid to fight back when he got into his ways. Phoebe had said that it wasn’t love, that because she made him into the man he was rather than the soft boy of his childhood, that he’d been used. But it’d never felt like that with her. He is who he is because of what she’d done to him, for him.
And it was all unfair, for Maea and everyone else. And perhaps that’s why he was always dissatisfied with what he found here – because he always tried to find her, that flame of confidence and fury that singed against his waters, but still roared high enough that he couldn’t drown her. Perhaps that’s what he needs.
He shudders when Maea leans in and presses her lips to his forehead, eyes shuttering closed and he holds her there, hurting again and again, fucking up over and over again. But at least it had been honest, that it had been this confession and not the fact that he’d tried to find the flame in someone else. But he lets her go when she steps down from the table, away from him, and he leans forward to brace his elbows on his thighs, hands reaching up to cover his eyes and rub at them.
She tells him she needs to go find Shii, and he’s half tempted to let her and let it end like this – but something in him burns and rages, as if this wasn’t enough of a goodbye. Not like Hotaru and him had, with their rules and thoughts laid out. “Maea… Wait.” He rumbles, lowering his hands from his face, making a motion to push himself off the table, swaying on his feet.
He can’t tell if this is a goodbye, but it hurts all the same.
so better watch your step, because i'm about to blow
and where the pieces land i guess we'll never know
SuNJATA
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
