// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //
He knows his dismissal is sharp, like a knife that’s just waiting to be buried deeper and deeper the longer he stands there. Ultimately, he’s glad that she’s made it and she’s back, but there’s a part of him internally that shakes with cobwebs and hurt of something that was there that feels like it’s been stabbed of its own right.
He’s halfway out the door with Petronella, pausing long enough for her to climb up his pant leg and shirt to climb onto his shoulder when he hears her comment. He finds deep down that he also doesn’t want the house they built, imagining that if she doesn’t want it either that it’ll just come to a ruin eventually.
Just like his heart. Just like his suddenly fragile mental state.
Unlike Nate, she’s still breathing. Still there. A reminder of how much he’d loved her and how much it had hurt when she’d vanished. How much more it hurt to realize that she’d succumbed to a death in the Draig and he’d been completely unaware. It felt like a betrayal, regardless of whether or not she meant to or not. It’s a mental hurt, one that sharpens the silver tongue of his father’s whispers, one that tells him maybe he is better off alone after all.
“If you want to.” He says to her question of whether she could write. He can’t promise he’ll write back. He can’t promise he’ll open them the second he sees them on his desk.
He looks over his shoulder toward her, hidden mostly by the black puff of fur that Petronella makes as she curls into his neck with. “I can’t tell you what to do, Hotaru. You’ve got to figure out what to do for yourself.” Saying her full name feels just as wrong as it did to hear her say his full name, but it feels just as pertinent to let it slip from his lips. He doesn't have anything else to say, and he starts to move again, stepping down the steps of their wind around porch onto the warm grasses of Meadowreach to slip away in the night.
He’s halfway out the door with Petronella, pausing long enough for her to climb up his pant leg and shirt to climb onto his shoulder when he hears her comment. He finds deep down that he also doesn’t want the house they built, imagining that if she doesn’t want it either that it’ll just come to a ruin eventually.
Just like his heart. Just like his suddenly fragile mental state.
Unlike Nate, she’s still breathing. Still there. A reminder of how much he’d loved her and how much it had hurt when she’d vanished. How much more it hurt to realize that she’d succumbed to a death in the Draig and he’d been completely unaware. It felt like a betrayal, regardless of whether or not she meant to or not. It’s a mental hurt, one that sharpens the silver tongue of his father’s whispers, one that tells him maybe he is better off alone after all.
“If you want to.” He says to her question of whether she could write. He can’t promise he’ll write back. He can’t promise he’ll open them the second he sees them on his desk.
He looks over his shoulder toward her, hidden mostly by the black puff of fur that Petronella makes as she curls into his neck with. “I can’t tell you what to do, Hotaru. You’ve got to figure out what to do for yourself.” Saying her full name feels just as wrong as it did to hear her say his full name, but it feels just as pertinent to let it slip from his lips. He doesn't have anything else to say, and he starts to move again, stepping down the steps of their wind around porch onto the warm grasses of Meadowreach to slip away in the night.
// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //
SUNJATA
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.
