// i came from a broken home, so look at all my broken bones
count me in, but count me out, i know what this is about //
count me in, but count me out, i know what this is about //
It’s always been his fault. To take away the burden from everyone else, because he’s unconsciously internalized everything to be his fault. The Family got so far into the very breaths they shared because of him. Because he’d tried his best to prove himself to the rest of Caido that this wasn’t a repeat of the New Gods war that he’d walked right into the execution chambers, spoke with Dahlia while she’d danced that guillotine blade across his throat. And while he was Hotaru’s in all the sense of his love, his mind and body had become Dahlia’s.
He is how Pierce knew that Ronin had Wilde’s Rapier.
And Pierce had killed her with it.
He’s had a long time to learn that his best intentions would often blow up, but still he tries, because he has to. And here, with her, with the coals and fire and brands that litter his skin in stories of heroics he shouldn’t have lived through, he still stands. He holds her through the tears, the anger, the fear, the way they both still struggle with sharing their emotions and talking through their impulsivities even though they’ve come such a long way.
“You do make me feel safe.” He counters immediately, confidence bleeding through him. She might not make him feel safe through a purely physical means (which he’s sure is what brands her skin so badly), but emotionally? He’s the safest he’s been. He doesn’t have to question it when he comes home that she’d be there, that she’s safe.
So when she tells him she can’t be there physically to be the one to call when they need her, it sinks low in his gut to hear the rawness of which she says it. It silences him, so that the only sound heard is the water that ripples around their legs, the way the silence of the birdsong becomes loud for the absence of it with her fury.
Her admission is akin to his own; that he can’t go through the rest of his life if she wasn’t there. That he can’t continue to have his soul cut in half over and over and over again because he’s quickly approaching having nothing left. But before he can respond, he hears the chant of the bastard that still haunts her, Thranduil, Thranduil, Thranduil, like a terrible omen that’s finally come for payment.
“The Family is gone. Maybe… Maybe we take this time to rebuild and get stronger for if anything else comes.” Sunjata suggests, his arms loose around her in a way that allows her to slip out if she wants to, because he cannot and will not be her prison. “I know it hurts, liefde, but maybe you don’t have to be the hero. Maybe you can just be her mom she can go to when things are hard. And that’s okay.”
It’s what his mother did, before she was murdered. She guided him, protected him from his father where she could.
She had taught him love. She had taught him loss. She had made him protective and selfless and that unfortunate bridge so that those he loved never had to fear getting wet if he had a choice.
She’d named him after the lion of the sun, because she only ever spent time in the shadows. But that didn’t mean she meant nothing.
She was everything to him. And then she, too, was gone. And he can’t stand the fact that now, Hotaru stands here feeling just as helpless in situations that neither of them know or knew how to navigate.
He is how Pierce knew that Ronin had Wilde’s Rapier.
And Pierce had killed her with it.
He’s had a long time to learn that his best intentions would often blow up, but still he tries, because he has to. And here, with her, with the coals and fire and brands that litter his skin in stories of heroics he shouldn’t have lived through, he still stands. He holds her through the tears, the anger, the fear, the way they both still struggle with sharing their emotions and talking through their impulsivities even though they’ve come such a long way.
“You do make me feel safe.” He counters immediately, confidence bleeding through him. She might not make him feel safe through a purely physical means (which he’s sure is what brands her skin so badly), but emotionally? He’s the safest he’s been. He doesn’t have to question it when he comes home that she’d be there, that she’s safe.
So when she tells him she can’t be there physically to be the one to call when they need her, it sinks low in his gut to hear the rawness of which she says it. It silences him, so that the only sound heard is the water that ripples around their legs, the way the silence of the birdsong becomes loud for the absence of it with her fury.
Her admission is akin to his own; that he can’t go through the rest of his life if she wasn’t there. That he can’t continue to have his soul cut in half over and over and over again because he’s quickly approaching having nothing left. But before he can respond, he hears the chant of the bastard that still haunts her, Thranduil, Thranduil, Thranduil, like a terrible omen that’s finally come for payment.
“The Family is gone. Maybe… Maybe we take this time to rebuild and get stronger for if anything else comes.” Sunjata suggests, his arms loose around her in a way that allows her to slip out if she wants to, because he cannot and will not be her prison. “I know it hurts, liefde, but maybe you don’t have to be the hero. Maybe you can just be her mom she can go to when things are hard. And that’s okay.”
It’s what his mother did, before she was murdered. She guided him, protected him from his father where she could.
She had taught him love. She had taught him loss. She had made him protective and selfless and that unfortunate bridge so that those he loved never had to fear getting wet if he had a choice.
She’d named him after the lion of the sun, because she only ever spent time in the shadows. But that didn’t mean she meant nothing.
She was everything to him. And then she, too, was gone. And he can’t stand the fact that now, Hotaru stands here feeling just as helpless in situations that neither of them know or knew how to navigate.
the flood
// i'm the next, so get in line
just let me have my fucking time //
just let me have my fucking time //
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.
