// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
“Yeah, I know.” Sunjata huffs with an almost humorless half laugh, his head dropping briefly as he feels the swell of their arrival, the warmth that he breaths in shortly after as a means to ground him, the warmth at the back of his neck working at muscles that likely haven’t known an inch of relief in the past twenty some-odd years. It fills him, though, and the hollowness in him feels more manageable, listening as his god goes on, nose wrinkling with the mention of death.
It wasn’t the result he wanted, but he supposes that’s the point. He’d lost everyone one way or another, even if the most recent one had been his choice. That’s perhaps the letdown part that Frey mentions. And he thinks, for a moment, that it’s selfish of him to just give up when the let down does happen, even if Frey’s tone and the movement of their hands and being give him absolutely zero inclination that it’s a bad thing.
He feels their hands still, before one is threading up through his hair – the brown flecked with strands of grey throughout as his head tilts into the touch like a feline might with the attention he craves. You’re allowed to, followed by so many potential reasons that help him feel a little less like a villain in so many stories, even if he might always be at the end of the day. But it’s the Circumstances change. Feelings change. People change. And that’s okay that really settles in his chest. The warmth is steady around him, an embrace that he realizes maybe he’d spent so long being afraid of being alone when he wasn’t really alone at all.
Frey was always there for him, had given him the space and the freedom he desperately craved from being under Safrin. But in the times that he needed their direction and their help, they were always willing to be here like this, however he might need.
He takes another long slow breath in, lets it fill him, before his head tilts up and back to let his grey gaze look back at his god – the shock of seeing vibrant blue eyes and dark hair, the stark masculine edge of their face that screamed Nate but wasn’t quite entirely him these days. Not since his heart died. “Why does everyone make it feel so.. shitty, though?” He asks with a small sigh, not able to accurately explain it. So he aims for trying to cast the feelings out in his mind, sure that they’ll pick up on it. The way that Hotaru had looked at him when he’d tried to talk to her at the Mathair. How he thought he was being reasonable not wanting to use her. How the look she’d given him screamed that it wasn’t fair and that he shouldn’t be doing it, that he should let her in again even if the one mistake she had made hadn’t been the one thing he was most afraid of happening.
“I feel like it took me so long to get back into everyone’s good graces after the Ascended war and everything I did in it and now everyone just thinks it’s convenient to use me as an excuse that I’m not doing enough or I don’t care enough. And when I do try to do something, it’s either too late or not good enough.” Which, as the words fall from his lips, he realizes are very minute and minimal in comparison to the god that he looks up at, and it’s that recognition in the storm clouds of his eyes that has him almost utterly exhausted. “Or maybe I’m just reading into it too much and shouldn’t care as much as I do. You’d think the whole Heartless moniker might’ve made that easier.” A snort escapes him as he tilts his head back down and slumps back into Frey. “I haven’t really slept in so long it’s hard to keep track of the why's.” Because as he’s sure Frey knows, Sunjata sleeps so poorly when his bed is empty.
It wasn’t the result he wanted, but he supposes that’s the point. He’d lost everyone one way or another, even if the most recent one had been his choice. That’s perhaps the letdown part that Frey mentions. And he thinks, for a moment, that it’s selfish of him to just give up when the let down does happen, even if Frey’s tone and the movement of their hands and being give him absolutely zero inclination that it’s a bad thing.
He feels their hands still, before one is threading up through his hair – the brown flecked with strands of grey throughout as his head tilts into the touch like a feline might with the attention he craves. You’re allowed to, followed by so many potential reasons that help him feel a little less like a villain in so many stories, even if he might always be at the end of the day. But it’s the Circumstances change. Feelings change. People change. And that’s okay that really settles in his chest. The warmth is steady around him, an embrace that he realizes maybe he’d spent so long being afraid of being alone when he wasn’t really alone at all.
Frey was always there for him, had given him the space and the freedom he desperately craved from being under Safrin. But in the times that he needed their direction and their help, they were always willing to be here like this, however he might need.
He takes another long slow breath in, lets it fill him, before his head tilts up and back to let his grey gaze look back at his god – the shock of seeing vibrant blue eyes and dark hair, the stark masculine edge of their face that screamed Nate but wasn’t quite entirely him these days. Not since his heart died. “Why does everyone make it feel so.. shitty, though?” He asks with a small sigh, not able to accurately explain it. So he aims for trying to cast the feelings out in his mind, sure that they’ll pick up on it. The way that Hotaru had looked at him when he’d tried to talk to her at the Mathair. How he thought he was being reasonable not wanting to use her. How the look she’d given him screamed that it wasn’t fair and that he shouldn’t be doing it, that he should let her in again even if the one mistake she had made hadn’t been the one thing he was most afraid of happening.
“I feel like it took me so long to get back into everyone’s good graces after the Ascended war and everything I did in it and now everyone just thinks it’s convenient to use me as an excuse that I’m not doing enough or I don’t care enough. And when I do try to do something, it’s either too late or not good enough.” Which, as the words fall from his lips, he realizes are very minute and minimal in comparison to the god that he looks up at, and it’s that recognition in the storm clouds of his eyes that has him almost utterly exhausted. “Or maybe I’m just reading into it too much and shouldn’t care as much as I do. You’d think the whole Heartless moniker might’ve made that easier.” A snort escapes him as he tilts his head back down and slumps back into Frey. “I haven’t really slept in so long it’s hard to keep track of the why's.” Because as he’s sure Frey knows, Sunjata sleeps so poorly when his bed is empty.
i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?
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.
