this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
"If you are sure," Niki says with a grin, taking up his own drink once he's set the demigod's mug down and bringing it to the kitchen table so he can sit - unsurprisingly, he isn't a fan of being on his feet for too long if he can help it. He gestures for Sunjata to join him too, if he wants. "If this is going to become a habit, perhaps I should invest in some when I get to King's End," he says of the syrup, smirking down at his own black coffee; unadorned and unsweetened, some might call it boring. Others might call it intense.
As for the Mathair and the screaming rain, Niki shakes his head softly out towards the window where the rain has begun to softly patter down. "I do not know," he confesses, "but many people in the Greatwood seem to think so, and it would fit her aesthetic, no?" You know, spooky, leaving you feeling vaguely cursed and on edge, that sort of thing. "Even if it is not her doing, I imagine she would happily take credit for it. And you do not bug me, Sunjata, I assure you."
As for the Mathair and the screaming rain, Niki shakes his head softly out towards the window where the rain has begun to softly patter down. "I do not know," he confesses, "but many people in the Greatwood seem to think so, and it would fit her aesthetic, no?" You know, spooky, leaving you feeling vaguely cursed and on edge, that sort of thing. "Even if it is not her doing, I imagine she would happily take credit for it. And you do not bug me, Sunjata, I assure you."
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
