// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //
The first no that reaches him feels like an accident at first. But that second one, with her gaze lifting up to meet his, all red rimmed and broken and clear in spite of the drugs and the liquor are more like the last nail in the coffin as she declines his easy acceptance. And maybe it is too easy for him to say that everything was fine, easier still to go through the motions of pretending like he hadn’t gone home to lick his wounds for an uncomfortable amount of time, even sought out his god for any idea of what to do because she’d gotten under his skin so much.
And yet, somehow, he doesn’t think that it’s what Colt wants to hear. But how often had the Heartless said what he thought everyone wanted to hear and still ended up in this spot at the end of the day?
Muscles feather in his jaw, short of chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I was mad.” He admits, repeating it in case she’d forgotten. But as she continues and trips over herself in the way she tries to get everything out in a way that he can understand, this picture of him that she’s painted and expecting him to be, word vomiting in a variety of ways to try and get him to react the way she thinks she deserves to be reacted to.
He’s struck with a sudden realization that it’s exactly what he does, too. When he’s pushed too far and he lashes out, however unfair it is. It’s no wonder he’s ended up in this position again and again if he tended to push people away by being the worst parts of himself.
“I’m not gonna yell at you, Colt.” He says with a resigned sigh, lifting a hand to run through his hair. “But if you want my honest thoughts? Fine.” Exhaling the sigh that slips past his lips, he looks away from her to the snowy landscape they find themselves in, realizing this was a conversation better suited to where they wouldn’t suffer from hypothermia, just the pain of the razor blade sentences between them.
He forces himself to look back at her – but not directly, because he still can’t bring himself to be open and vulnerable under scrutiny. “You were upset and I get that, I do, but then you implied that I don’t take care of my region and the people in it. Like I didn’t care, and that was probably the worst thing for me to hear. I’m not perfect, I know, but it… I thought we were closer than what we were. You were my friend and you just took all the shit I’m always sensitive about and tossed out at me like you didn’t care how long it’d hurt me.” He sucks in a sharp breath and swallows hard. “You fucked me up enough that I went to see Frey because I couldn’t manage it on my own.” She had the power to do that, and if she wants to know how much it hurt him, then the cards are all laid out. "And it feels shitty to say that when you literally lost your home and everything." Like he's trying to balance the traumas and can't equate them out the same, because he's so used to just stuffing it down until the light can't shine on it anymore with the apt easy sentence of shit happens.
And yet, somehow, he doesn’t think that it’s what Colt wants to hear. But how often had the Heartless said what he thought everyone wanted to hear and still ended up in this spot at the end of the day?
Muscles feather in his jaw, short of chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I was mad.” He admits, repeating it in case she’d forgotten. But as she continues and trips over herself in the way she tries to get everything out in a way that he can understand, this picture of him that she’s painted and expecting him to be, word vomiting in a variety of ways to try and get him to react the way she thinks she deserves to be reacted to.
He’s struck with a sudden realization that it’s exactly what he does, too. When he’s pushed too far and he lashes out, however unfair it is. It’s no wonder he’s ended up in this position again and again if he tended to push people away by being the worst parts of himself.
“I’m not gonna yell at you, Colt.” He says with a resigned sigh, lifting a hand to run through his hair. “But if you want my honest thoughts? Fine.” Exhaling the sigh that slips past his lips, he looks away from her to the snowy landscape they find themselves in, realizing this was a conversation better suited to where they wouldn’t suffer from hypothermia, just the pain of the razor blade sentences between them.
He forces himself to look back at her – but not directly, because he still can’t bring himself to be open and vulnerable under scrutiny. “You were upset and I get that, I do, but then you implied that I don’t take care of my region and the people in it. Like I didn’t care, and that was probably the worst thing for me to hear. I’m not perfect, I know, but it… I thought we were closer than what we were. You were my friend and you just took all the shit I’m always sensitive about and tossed out at me like you didn’t care how long it’d hurt me.” He sucks in a sharp breath and swallows hard. “You fucked me up enough that I went to see Frey because I couldn’t manage it on my own.” She had the power to do that, and if she wants to know how much it hurt him, then the cards are all laid out. "And it feels shitty to say that when you literally lost your home and everything." Like he's trying to balance the traumas and can't equate them out the same, because he's so used to just stuffing it down until the light can't shine on it anymore with the apt easy sentence of shit happens.
i know we'll make it anywhere away from here
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.
