now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
“Yeah, it is.” He murmurs, rolling a shoulder slightly as he huffs a quiet sigh. It made it harder when he was the demigod of Frey – the epitome of lust and seduction. It meant that people have often fallen for him only to find disappointment when Sunjata either couldn’t or wasn’t going to reciprocate. It often made for drama, but as of late with things going well between them, he can’t quite figure out what went wrong.
Better yet, where he went wrong. Whether or not it was his fault or wasn’t, to the man with attachment and abandonment issues, well… It spelled trouble. There’s a huff of a laugh that leaves him, though, when she apologizes and offers to help if she can – because she’s the one really going through it. It isn’t his place to shift the grief away from her own unless that’s what she wants to happen. The story hadn’t meant to steal away from her but to tell her how he could relate. “Yeah, I will. For right now, though, let’s focus on you, yeah? Besides, it’s not the first time.” The latter half drops down into a quiet mumble.
When it shifts to focus back on her, he loosens a long and slow breath. “You haven’t fully lost, though. You’re here, right?” Gesturing to the room – even if it was one of his own creation – she was still living and breathing and feeling her heartache and pain. She was alive with it. Physical and there, as much as is evident when she sinks against his side. His arm slips up, wrapping around her shoulders – two lumps of sorrow and stress, even if they try to hide it.
She mentions her husband from years ago – a name and story he doesn’t know but doesn’t press unless she wants to share it. He can offer his own side of it, though. “I’m probably not the best one to talk to about it.” He admits a little weakly, a humorless snort leaving him. “I’ve tried to off myself a few too many times, to be honest. I got talked off the edge after Nate died, but he was the second one that hit me and I think it was different because I couldn’t do anything about it.” He lifts the hand with the wedding ring still on it, spinning the crescent moon in his fingers like it’s an anxiety tick. “I couldn’t see Frey without a blindfold for like a year after, or some crazy amount of time. That whole time I spent here in King’s End in the Refuge after everyone left after the war, too drunk and depressed to function until I found something to focus on and it hurt a little less each day. It’s why I made this. Doing my part as Frey’s, but I can also use it to remind myself of better times.” His head tilts again, squinting at the cabin that surrounds them.
“My mom used to take me and my sister here back in Korofi when my father was being an exceptional piece of shit. Mostly so I could recover.” He tacks on, the explanation one he doesn’t like to share – but given that his father had made an appearance here in Caido and gave even more trauma to him despite the entire beginning of his life, well.. Maybe it made sense to allow other people to hear about it too, so they could understand why he was the way he was; like now, the reason he won’t – refuses – to look at her when he talks about things too close to his chest, too used to being told it was weak and too soft. That he needed to be a man made of steel, of something so strong that nothing could crack his exterior. It’s why he’s got all those masks, the ones he puts on for different shows.
But Colt gets the raw Sunjata right now, the one that looks somehow softer despite all the tattoos and scars that line his body. The one that looks like he’s still trying to figure everything out despite being as close to godliness as one could be. He’d been chosen, but he’s still broken. And that’s okay.
"But I think that even though it's never really going to go away, it's important to allow yourself to feel it when you do, y'know? Otherwise it gets all bottled up and even fuckin' worse." He glances over at her finally with that.
Better yet, where he went wrong. Whether or not it was his fault or wasn’t, to the man with attachment and abandonment issues, well… It spelled trouble. There’s a huff of a laugh that leaves him, though, when she apologizes and offers to help if she can – because she’s the one really going through it. It isn’t his place to shift the grief away from her own unless that’s what she wants to happen. The story hadn’t meant to steal away from her but to tell her how he could relate. “Yeah, I will. For right now, though, let’s focus on you, yeah? Besides, it’s not the first time.” The latter half drops down into a quiet mumble.
When it shifts to focus back on her, he loosens a long and slow breath. “You haven’t fully lost, though. You’re here, right?” Gesturing to the room – even if it was one of his own creation – she was still living and breathing and feeling her heartache and pain. She was alive with it. Physical and there, as much as is evident when she sinks against his side. His arm slips up, wrapping around her shoulders – two lumps of sorrow and stress, even if they try to hide it.
She mentions her husband from years ago – a name and story he doesn’t know but doesn’t press unless she wants to share it. He can offer his own side of it, though. “I’m probably not the best one to talk to about it.” He admits a little weakly, a humorless snort leaving him. “I’ve tried to off myself a few too many times, to be honest. I got talked off the edge after Nate died, but he was the second one that hit me and I think it was different because I couldn’t do anything about it.” He lifts the hand with the wedding ring still on it, spinning the crescent moon in his fingers like it’s an anxiety tick. “I couldn’t see Frey without a blindfold for like a year after, or some crazy amount of time. That whole time I spent here in King’s End in the Refuge after everyone left after the war, too drunk and depressed to function until I found something to focus on and it hurt a little less each day. It’s why I made this. Doing my part as Frey’s, but I can also use it to remind myself of better times.” His head tilts again, squinting at the cabin that surrounds them.
“My mom used to take me and my sister here back in Korofi when my father was being an exceptional piece of shit. Mostly so I could recover.” He tacks on, the explanation one he doesn’t like to share – but given that his father had made an appearance here in Caido and gave even more trauma to him despite the entire beginning of his life, well.. Maybe it made sense to allow other people to hear about it too, so they could understand why he was the way he was; like now, the reason he won’t – refuses – to look at her when he talks about things too close to his chest, too used to being told it was weak and too soft. That he needed to be a man made of steel, of something so strong that nothing could crack his exterior. It’s why he’s got all those masks, the ones he puts on for different shows.
But Colt gets the raw Sunjata right now, the one that looks somehow softer despite all the tattoos and scars that line his body. The one that looks like he’s still trying to figure everything out despite being as close to godliness as one could be. He’d been chosen, but he’s still broken. And that’s okay.
"But I think that even though it's never really going to go away, it's important to allow yourself to feel it when you do, y'know? Otherwise it gets all bottled up and even fuckin' worse." He glances over at her finally with that.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
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.
