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
Her honesty is the one thing that does break through to him, his scarred brows twitching closer together for a brief moment, letting it wash over him and all the knives and shards of glass inside him that have been stabbing him over and over again which each and every breath. He exhales, tension leaking out of him, his guard dropping just enough that he seems a little less rigid, less tense, less likely to snap or partial shift toward the dragon or the macaw in his skin. He remains just him, hearing her out.
It’s not an apology, nor is it an acceptance of an apology, but it’s a good start. A start that makes him think this isn’t going to be the continuation of the argument they’d had previously. He won’t complain about that turn of events. He’s already so tired of having to constantly prove himself to whomever he’d let down time and time again. “The desert?” He asks after a moment, like theres some other Hak Etme that she plans on turning somewhere liveable.
And as someone that has done what feels like the impossible, well, Sunjata downs the initial bitterness that spikes in him, like it’s some subconscious attack (a gift from his father, to read between the things said to hear criticisms unsaid), like he half expects her to try to make Hak Etme livable to prove to him that he’s not doing it right. But he swallows down those bitter thoughts like a terrible pill with the help of the tea in front of him before he finds it in him to speak.
“It takes a lot of work.” Not that he thinks she wouldn’t be dedicated for it, but it wasn’t for the faint of heart. “I wish you luck.” And he means it, in the little brief glimmer of his gaze as he looks back up at her and thinks about what that means for him, for King’s End as a whole. “Where your ranch… was.. Do you have plans for that?” He pauses, because if she’s leaving, he’s going to assume she doesn’t. “Would you be okay if eventually the land it’s on gets used?” Clarification, perhaps, that he doesn’t intend to touch it without her blessing.
But if she’s leaving it all behind anyway, well, he technically doesn’t need her permission. He could just do something with it one day. But as she’s offered him the bit of good will in this conversation, it’s the least he can do to offer her some of his own.
It’s not an apology, nor is it an acceptance of an apology, but it’s a good start. A start that makes him think this isn’t going to be the continuation of the argument they’d had previously. He won’t complain about that turn of events. He’s already so tired of having to constantly prove himself to whomever he’d let down time and time again. “The desert?” He asks after a moment, like theres some other Hak Etme that she plans on turning somewhere liveable.
And as someone that has done what feels like the impossible, well, Sunjata downs the initial bitterness that spikes in him, like it’s some subconscious attack (a gift from his father, to read between the things said to hear criticisms unsaid), like he half expects her to try to make Hak Etme livable to prove to him that he’s not doing it right. But he swallows down those bitter thoughts like a terrible pill with the help of the tea in front of him before he finds it in him to speak.
“It takes a lot of work.” Not that he thinks she wouldn’t be dedicated for it, but it wasn’t for the faint of heart. “I wish you luck.” And he means it, in the little brief glimmer of his gaze as he looks back up at her and thinks about what that means for him, for King’s End as a whole. “Where your ranch… was.. Do you have plans for that?” He pauses, because if she’s leaving, he’s going to assume she doesn’t. “Would you be okay if eventually the land it’s on gets used?” Clarification, perhaps, that he doesn’t intend to touch it without her blessing.
But if she’s leaving it all behind anyway, well, he technically doesn’t need her permission. He could just do something with it one day. But as she’s offered him the bit of good will in this conversation, it’s the least he can do to offer her some of his own.
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.
