so is there any treason in the tricky little price I pay?
i can't open up to you
“Most days, they did.” The buildings would always scrape the sky when the clouds were heavy enough, but when it came to the seasons of drought without a cloud in sight? They reached like sharp fingers searching for the means of life, a purpose. It’s all things that Sunjata keeps tied into his chest, swallowing it down as the conversation shifts, the thoughts melting into his mind with a bit more clarity that he never really thought he’d find.
Only for him to shift the conversation before it becomes too sad – he’d always done that, though. Focused instead on the comfort of others rather than tell his full story. It was easier that way. He couldn’t handle the pity that people often shared, because it began to lose its luster after the umpteenth time of being told just how awful it had to have been for him.
Luckily for Niki, the Heartless latches onto the idea of showing the heart, though. Perceptive enough to see his intrigue, it relaxes the tension brewing in his tattooed shoulders that he hasn’t fumbled this up yet. “I don’t mind.” He admits, mentally nudging Petronella to go and grab his bag of holding. The feline hops down from the table and bolts out the door once Sunjata’s stood up to open it for her, lingering enough to wait until she’s back but able to still answer the question he has. “Yeah, nothing romantic at least. Everyone I’ve ever loved is just.. It feels like a ghost of everything? Just people that aren’t here anymore that I remember loving so fuckin' fiercely. It's just empty.”
Petronella doesn’t take long, the bag dragged behind her as she races down the hall and runs back inside, hopping back up on the table to play with the lamp string more while Sunjata closes the door and plucks open the bag, reaching in to snag the box it sat in. Withdrawing it and setting the bag to the side, the demigod steps back over to Niki and scoots the navy chair a bit closer to the emerald one Niki sits in, handing him the box for him to open.
And once he does, he’ll see a relatively barren box, an organic heart that no longer beats – greyed by loss of everything that had kept it alive.
Only for him to shift the conversation before it becomes too sad – he’d always done that, though. Focused instead on the comfort of others rather than tell his full story. It was easier that way. He couldn’t handle the pity that people often shared, because it began to lose its luster after the umpteenth time of being told just how awful it had to have been for him.
Luckily for Niki, the Heartless latches onto the idea of showing the heart, though. Perceptive enough to see his intrigue, it relaxes the tension brewing in his tattooed shoulders that he hasn’t fumbled this up yet. “I don’t mind.” He admits, mentally nudging Petronella to go and grab his bag of holding. The feline hops down from the table and bolts out the door once Sunjata’s stood up to open it for her, lingering enough to wait until she’s back but able to still answer the question he has. “Yeah, nothing romantic at least. Everyone I’ve ever loved is just.. It feels like a ghost of everything? Just people that aren’t here anymore that I remember loving so fuckin' fiercely. It's just empty.”
Petronella doesn’t take long, the bag dragged behind her as she races down the hall and runs back inside, hopping back up on the table to play with the lamp string more while Sunjata closes the door and plucks open the bag, reaching in to snag the box it sat in. Withdrawing it and setting the bag to the side, the demigod steps back over to Niki and scoots the navy chair a bit closer to the emerald one Niki sits in, handing him the box for him to open.
And once he does, he’ll see a relatively barren box, an organic heart that no longer beats – greyed by loss of everything that had kept it alive.
me and my friends are lonely
i always figured i'd be the one to die alone
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.
