So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes
No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight
No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight
Koa's face pales a little as Sunjata suggests he ask his god, grateful for the way the low light hides the heat on his ears. "Yeah, that's a good idea," he replies almost hesitantly. He doesn't want Sunjata to know about his quest from Safrin, that it was she the young man last went to for aid, despite the demigod's warnings. Oh, he has no regrets about his choice, but somehow he suspects that the Flood would not approve of Koa's admiration for the Lady of Stars, even if their history was only half as fraught as what the older man had revealed.
He brightens at the offer to keep the chakram. A wondering glance is given to Sunjata: "Are you sure?" he clarifies, but the bladed wheel is already spinning on his fingers, tossed with ease from hand to hand. Again he turns to face the forest and again the disc is flung, this time embedding with a satisfying thud into the trunk of a tree. The young man raises his hand, a triumphant grin blooming as the weapon returns back to him. "Just like a legend," he breathes with awed reverence, slipping the disc onto his belt.
Too wired to sit, the boy remains standing, kneeling only to gather a collection of small stones. "What kind of bow?" he asks Sunjata, before flicking one of the rocks into the darkness, toward a knot he can just barely make out in the gnarled trunk of a tree. Another one follows, and a third, each getting steadily closer to a perfect bullseye.
He brightens at the offer to keep the chakram. A wondering glance is given to Sunjata: "Are you sure?" he clarifies, but the bladed wheel is already spinning on his fingers, tossed with ease from hand to hand. Again he turns to face the forest and again the disc is flung, this time embedding with a satisfying thud into the trunk of a tree. The young man raises his hand, a triumphant grin blooming as the weapon returns back to him. "Just like a legend," he breathes with awed reverence, slipping the disc onto his belt.
Too wired to sit, the boy remains standing, kneeling only to gather a collection of small stones. "What kind of bow?" he asks Sunjata, before flicking one of the rocks into the darkness, toward a knot he can just barely make out in the gnarled trunk of a tree. Another one follows, and a third, each getting steadily closer to a perfect bullseye.
Koa
No other version of me I would rather be tonight
And, Lord, she found me just in time
And, Lord, she found me just in time
