"You were burned because this world is shit and unfair, not because you were optimistic." Frey counters softly, breathing warmly against the back of Sunjata's neck. As the Flood twists in their arms, Frey's hands come to rest on the sides of his cheeks, ever careful not to move the blindfold. "Of course you've been yourself." They titter sweetly. "You don't suddenly become someone else when you change or when you don't feel like being you. Talking like that makes it sound like you've done something wrong, grey eyes."
But you haven't.
Sliding their palms down Sunjata's cheeks to rest them against his shoulders, Frey gives a little shrug the Flood won't see. "What about...another little project to work on? Something to give your mind something to think about in those long, dark hours where ghosts call you to their beds, mmm?"
But you haven't.
Sliding their palms down Sunjata's cheeks to rest them against his shoulders, Frey gives a little shrug the Flood won't see. "What about...another little project to work on? Something to give your mind something to think about in those long, dark hours where ghosts call you to their beds, mmm?"
