i can't quite tell you how it hurt me, but my god
His heart thunders in his chest at her approach, but his mask has been carefully placed over years of practice, of trying to ensure that nobody got the upper hand of him again. He listens to her introduction of herself to him, giving a quiet nod. Daughter of Mort, huh? He supposes that she’s a bit easier to reach then when it came to small questions like this.
Small to the gods, at least.
He explains that he’s lost someone close, giving no names whatsoever. And his head lifts, eyes narrowing on Delphia when she says Lusea’s name, his gut churning and his temple begins to throb. ’No longer with the living’. He clenches his jaw, taking a step back and shaking his head slightly. The first step of grief? Denial. She’d gotten her name, sure, but how does he know? There’s a slight touch of cold that he can feel on the edge of his shoulders beneath the clothes he wears, but he passes it off as his heart thunders further, hands clenching in his pockets.
She is fiery, passionate. But that could be said about many here. “How do I know that you’re telling the truth?” Uncharacteristically, his voice shakes but he refuses to look at her, refuses to look at anything but the gentle rippling of the water they stand beside. And then the guilt begins to set in, jaw clenching harder again, muscles feathering in his jaw, trying to keep his breathing as steady as possible.
Small to the gods, at least.
He explains that he’s lost someone close, giving no names whatsoever. And his head lifts, eyes narrowing on Delphia when she says Lusea’s name, his gut churning and his temple begins to throb. ’No longer with the living’. He clenches his jaw, taking a step back and shaking his head slightly. The first step of grief? Denial. She’d gotten her name, sure, but how does he know? There’s a slight touch of cold that he can feel on the edge of his shoulders beneath the clothes he wears, but he passes it off as his heart thunders further, hands clenching in his pockets.
She is fiery, passionate. But that could be said about many here. “How do I know that you’re telling the truth?” Uncharacteristically, his voice shakes but he refuses to look at her, refuses to look at anything but the gentle rippling of the water they stand beside. And then the guilt begins to set in, jaw clenching harder again, muscles feathering in his jaw, trying to keep his breathing as steady as possible.
how it still aches today
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.
