relive who i've been at my worst,
every single night, looking for a distraction
every single night, looking for a distraction
The fact there wasn’t a choice resonates with Sunjata far more than he’d probably admit – so focused on Niki’s voice now to hear all the options that would benefit others. But not Niki and not for Sunjata. Their fates had been sealed from the get go – Niki with his illnesses and Sunjata with his birthright.
“Oh.” Sunjata murmurs, deciding as he focuses on the commentary that it must have been intimidating – to leave what you knew to go to some strangers house with the promise of being an apprentice. Or, perhaps, it was something optimistic. That he wouldn’t be forced to continue to work, live, and die in the same place he’d grown up. But then it gets worse. So much worse, in fact, that Sunjata in between the discomfort in his gut and trying to place it in a space where it would actually go away, finds himself snapping up to look over his shoulder at Niki, brows pinched in both quiet horror and a quiet anger he isn’t sure what to do with, but it feels a lot better than throwing up right now.
There’s a scent of clean alongside patchouli and bergamot and it’s reminiscent to him of the doctors he’d seen before back in Korofi and it only makes the sensation worse as he hears the quiet memorized reverberations of the necromancer’s voice in his ear, watching the hand stray to his chest where the scars intersect. “With or without your permission?” He asks, voice low and careful as if deciding how angry he should feel on Niki’s behalf.
Sunjata's always found it was easier to be upset and angry with other people's traumas than his own - almost like he was Stockholmed into believing that while he'd had it bad, it hadn't been that bad, unintentionally horrifying whomever he's telling the story to. This, however, feels different. And to hear Niki say it so plainly, how much he's always tried to hide it, the memory of what he'd said about his scars? Sunjata feels like he can put two and two together.
“Oh.” Sunjata murmurs, deciding as he focuses on the commentary that it must have been intimidating – to leave what you knew to go to some strangers house with the promise of being an apprentice. Or, perhaps, it was something optimistic. That he wouldn’t be forced to continue to work, live, and die in the same place he’d grown up. But then it gets worse. So much worse, in fact, that Sunjata in between the discomfort in his gut and trying to place it in a space where it would actually go away, finds himself snapping up to look over his shoulder at Niki, brows pinched in both quiet horror and a quiet anger he isn’t sure what to do with, but it feels a lot better than throwing up right now.
There’s a scent of clean alongside patchouli and bergamot and it’s reminiscent to him of the doctors he’d seen before back in Korofi and it only makes the sensation worse as he hears the quiet memorized reverberations of the necromancer’s voice in his ear, watching the hand stray to his chest where the scars intersect. “With or without your permission?” He asks, voice low and careful as if deciding how angry he should feel on Niki’s behalf.
Sunjata's always found it was easier to be upset and angry with other people's traumas than his own - almost like he was Stockholmed into believing that while he'd had it bad, it hadn't been that bad, unintentionally horrifying whomever he's telling the story to. This, however, feels different. And to hear Niki say it so plainly, how much he's always tried to hide it, the memory of what he'd said about his scars? Sunjata feels like he can put two and two together.
the flood
waiting for the sun to rise
pretty sight for some hollow eyes
pretty sight for some hollow eyes
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
