this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
"You did alright at tinkerin' when we made those boxes," Niki objects, but it's a distracted jest at best, the necromancer blinking across at Sunjata to watch him through half lidded eyes as he settles down beside him. "And you did? Alright, next time I'll box you," he announces with a boyish grin, as if he stands a chance of even throwing a punch at the Heartless without breaking his hand. "Even better if you're tired. You can sit down so I can reach."
Hiding a yawn behind his hand, he glances properly at the silver of the other man's eyes as he draws attention to them, and to the freckles that scatter across the bridge of his nose. "Pretty," he says quietly. "Though from what you've said 'bout your father I doubt you think so. I've got no idea where any of my... me came from." Shrugging, Niki honestly can't say he's ever thought about it either. Maybe he ought to more often.
Hiding a yawn behind his hand, he glances properly at the silver of the other man's eyes as he draws attention to them, and to the freckles that scatter across the bridge of his nose. "Pretty," he says quietly. "Though from what you've said 'bout your father I doubt you think so. I've got no idea where any of my... me came from." Shrugging, Niki honestly can't say he's ever thought about it either. Maybe he ought to more often.
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
