this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
Niki relaxes despite himself as Sunjata reiterates their original plan, letting his smile ease up a bit. At the idea of him wanting a house on stilts, though, he can't help but laugh, gesturing to himself with bemusement. "Do I look as though I would thrive having to walk up and down steps to get home?" he quips, before his expression is growing a touch softer, the necromancer finding himself seeing Sunjata through yet another new lens.
"You would have had it built if I had wanted it," he says, a thread of revelation in his voice. "Wouldn't you?"
But then the conversation takes a turn, one Niki hadn't intended to be so serious, and he's about to tell Sunjata he doesn't need to answer when he starts to expand on it. The necromancer is left listening quietly to the tale he spins - devotion and loathing, commitment to something just to make sure he wasn't left with nothing, and the frown on his face is as empathetic as it is thoughtful, in the end.
"What were you before all of that?" he asks. "Before Safrin or Frey? Would you not have wanted to just be yourself?"
"You would have had it built if I had wanted it," he says, a thread of revelation in his voice. "Wouldn't you?"
But then the conversation takes a turn, one Niki hadn't intended to be so serious, and he's about to tell Sunjata he doesn't need to answer when he starts to expand on it. The necromancer is left listening quietly to the tale he spins - devotion and loathing, commitment to something just to make sure he wasn't left with nothing, and the frown on his face is as empathetic as it is thoughtful, in the end.
"What were you before all of that?" he asks. "Before Safrin or Frey? Would you not have wanted to just be yourself?"
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
