now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
Her question confuses him – the relation of it, but as an Accepted he supposes she wouldn’t know. He certainly didn’t when he’d arrived and had the ability to do it before he’d become attuned. It feels like a lifetime ago, but something that has him hesitating because he isn’t too sure if it’s so much of a compelling aspect. “I mean.. No?” He murmurs, trying to think of how to explain it with his own expectation. “It’s kind of jarring actually. You get pulled and you hear what the request is, and you only have a short amount of time to do it before you’re back where you were.” He takes the moment to glance down at her, as if he might be able to see the lines in her face that explain just why she’d asked that question.
Coming away empty handed, however, has Sunjata looking away again, taking in the minute shifts of the room – books he’d forgotten the name of that suddenly come to him the longer he sits here, materializing before their very eyes on the bookshelf across the way. The fireplace that’s warm and crackles its merry delight has a few more cracked bricks than it had before. “Well, yeah. But it’s a different kind of bad.” It’s closure, whether he liked it or not. An answer to the question that harbors in his soul.
More tears come, though, and he makes no comment on it as she hides her face away. He’s a hider, too, so unwilling to share his emotions even when he should because of the lessons his old man beat into his head. His father always had been a psychopath and unable to share his emotions unless it was anger. He was the man made of iron, at the end of the day. “Guess we get to be two people in misery, huh?” Sunjata says, looking down at her as he catches her looking up at him. A faint smile tugs on his face, too, lopsided with the scar that bunches against he muscle the wound had sliced through.
“Oh keep what up? I'm not doing anything.” He asks out of complete and undeserved innocence. He’s unfazed by her thwap against his chest and he huffs a soft laugh in response to it, settling for draping an arm across her side while the other rests against the side of the multicolored couch.
Coming away empty handed, however, has Sunjata looking away again, taking in the minute shifts of the room – books he’d forgotten the name of that suddenly come to him the longer he sits here, materializing before their very eyes on the bookshelf across the way. The fireplace that’s warm and crackles its merry delight has a few more cracked bricks than it had before. “Well, yeah. But it’s a different kind of bad.” It’s closure, whether he liked it or not. An answer to the question that harbors in his soul.
More tears come, though, and he makes no comment on it as she hides her face away. He’s a hider, too, so unwilling to share his emotions even when he should because of the lessons his old man beat into his head. His father always had been a psychopath and unable to share his emotions unless it was anger. He was the man made of iron, at the end of the day. “Guess we get to be two people in misery, huh?” Sunjata says, looking down at her as he catches her looking up at him. A faint smile tugs on his face, too, lopsided with the scar that bunches against he muscle the wound had sliced through.
“Oh keep what up? I'm not doing anything.” He asks out of complete and undeserved innocence. He’s unfazed by her thwap against his chest and he huffs a soft laugh in response to it, settling for draping an arm across her side while the other rests against the side of the multicolored couch.
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.
