this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
"Very much without." Niki's voice has slipped into a rough whisper despite his attempts otherwise, his hand clenching into a fist over his chest, jaw feathering as if to keep anything else from leaking through. Alcohol has gotten its fingers into the cracks in his composure to prise them open; the necromancer doesn't remember ever speaking this aloud. The closest he'd come is with Flora some seasons back, and even then he'd not been able to say much more than this.
"I was... eleven, I think, the first time it happened. Almost seventeen by the last time. Anatolii died that year." And before Sunjata can even consider asking, Niki glances across at him, eyes quietly pleased but without anything darker in them. "I had nothing to do with it." But he'd wished he had.
Inhaling a sudden, trembling breath, the necromancer seems to notice the changes in the room for the first time, scowling and shaking his head like he can get rid of them. "Sorry," he mutters. "This can't be helping - I'll talk about something else."
"I was... eleven, I think, the first time it happened. Almost seventeen by the last time. Anatolii died that year." And before Sunjata can even consider asking, Niki glances across at him, eyes quietly pleased but without anything darker in them. "I had nothing to do with it." But he'd wished he had.
Inhaling a sudden, trembling breath, the necromancer seems to notice the changes in the room for the first time, scowling and shaking his head like he can get rid of them. "Sorry," he mutters. "This can't be helping - I'll talk about something else."
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
