right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold
He physically stills as Safrin confirms his thoughts, the breath that’s released is slow and quiet, as if he’s had a film over his gaze ever since his father’s arrival and the drugging that had lead to his inability to trust his mind. This he can trust, even however people wanted to spin it. He had been right. Even if there isn’t anything he can do about it.
With Remi, though, it does manage to spark a small smile, crooked as relief swells through him for the first time in a long while. “He’s a demigod, can’t he just… Not die?” He asks (never having learned the boundaries of what being a demigod meant), wondering if the boulder would just be something that pinned the Lullaby there for a long while. (Apparently he isn’t as over the dream murder and stealing Hotaru away as he thought he was.)
He focuses on her, though, on the words that reinforce and reorient himself, that takes little by little off of his plate until it’s easier to be balanced. The Flood has never been good at compartmentalizing things, prone to outbursts and poor impulse control. His head is cradled and he watches her, tilting his head into her hands a bit more, believing every word she says. “It’s all subjective.” He agrees softly, before he pauses to chew at the inside of his cheek. “I am worried that people will continue to try and pull the veil over my eyes. Is it possible to get something that can help me see through them?” The lies, the trickery, the absolute fuckery everyone tries to do to him.
With Remi, though, it does manage to spark a small smile, crooked as relief swells through him for the first time in a long while. “He’s a demigod, can’t he just… Not die?” He asks (never having learned the boundaries of what being a demigod meant), wondering if the boulder would just be something that pinned the Lullaby there for a long while. (Apparently he isn’t as over the dream murder and stealing Hotaru away as he thought he was.)
He focuses on her, though, on the words that reinforce and reorient himself, that takes little by little off of his plate until it’s easier to be balanced. The Flood has never been good at compartmentalizing things, prone to outbursts and poor impulse control. His head is cradled and he watches her, tilting his head into her hands a bit more, believing every word she says. “It’s all subjective.” He agrees softly, before he pauses to chew at the inside of his cheek. “I am worried that people will continue to try and pull the veil over my eyes. Is it possible to get something that can help me see through them?” The lies, the trickery, the absolute fuckery everyone tries to do to him.
you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone
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.
