SUNJATA
i was never the sharp knife, but i was never the dull mind
i was somewhere in between, a thorn, an acquiescent
i was somewhere in between, a thorn, an acquiescent
She’d reached out – and for Sunjata, well, there’s a certain feeling about the request that feels as much like a goodbye as her actually saying it aloud. And since the last time they’d seen each other, the Heartless had spent countless minutes going over everything they’d said to each other, wondering just how much of it had been true or anger and hurt, and wondering whether or not this conversation would go the same way.
And while he might not have a heart anymore, it didn’t prevent him from being fucking anxious about it, even if he felt like he shouldn’t be. He should be used to this. He should expect it. And yet the idea still hurts in the deep crevices and cracks of his hollow chest cavity.
New Haven is a welcome reprieve, at least, not without the ghosts of everywhere else. At least the city seemed vibrant and less likely to harbor the uncertainty settling in his chest as he slips through the building to see Colt’s golden crown of hair, smoke curling up from her and steam curling up from the cups sat in front of her.
He does hear her muttering as he approaches, the hEARs helping with that as he slides into the seat opposite of her and adjusts his shirt – a long sleeved shirt made up of a warm, dark burnt orange cotton. “Wouldn’t surprise me if it did, unfortunately.” He offers out, equally quiet as he snags a cigarette of his own and sparks it to life to drag quietly from it, before his steel gaze lifts to see her face and actually force himself to look at her. “Hey.” He says quietly in greeting, as neutral of a boon as he can manage.
And while he might not have a heart anymore, it didn’t prevent him from being fucking anxious about it, even if he felt like he shouldn’t be. He should be used to this. He should expect it. And yet the idea still hurts in the deep crevices and cracks of his hollow chest cavity.
New Haven is a welcome reprieve, at least, not without the ghosts of everywhere else. At least the city seemed vibrant and less likely to harbor the uncertainty settling in his chest as he slips through the building to see Colt’s golden crown of hair, smoke curling up from her and steam curling up from the cups sat in front of her.
He does hear her muttering as he approaches, the hEARs helping with that as he slides into the seat opposite of her and adjusts his shirt – a long sleeved shirt made up of a warm, dark burnt orange cotton. “Wouldn’t surprise me if it did, unfortunately.” He offers out, equally quiet as he snags a cigarette of his own and sparks it to life to drag quietly from it, before his steel gaze lifts to see her face and actually force himself to look at her. “Hey.” He says quietly in greeting, as neutral of a boon as he can manage.
so you said it was for me, when you tried to break me
well you can save your breath, i know, i'm not the kind you pray for
well you can save your breath, i know, i'm not the kind you pray for
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.
