i closed my eyes and saw my father's sins, they covered me like a second skin
i peeled them off, and sure i bled a bit, but now i'm free to sink my own damn ship
i peeled them off, and sure i bled a bit, but now i'm free to sink my own damn ship
She tries to meet him halfway, his steel gaze scanning her face while that protective streak of his dragon shift starts to reach out within him, wanting nothing more than to protect her from the fear she faces, the fears she has and holds close to her chest. “She is.” Sunjata murmurs softly, making a small quick show of the starry tattoos to his arms, a thumb hooked toward the edge of the constellation tattoo that peaks up above where his shirt is unbuttoned the last few notches.
His head tilts while she squeezes his palm, watching her face like a hawk would for anything. “Yes, sweetheart?” He prompts her gently, waiting patiently until she’s done. And what she says isn’t at all what he expects. It warms something within him, something broken and empty and searching for any kind of balm. She grants him this in the future that she paints for them – a future that he hopes goes just as she describes.
He can’t help but to interject with a small boyish smile, perhaps one of the softest ones she’s seen on his rugged, scarred face. “I’m afraid I already have a few grey hairs, liefde.” He murmurs but settles so she can finish what she wants to say, a boost to his confidence of fatherhood, that maybe – just maybe – he isn’t too bad at this. She mentions his own mother and the flowers, the twins, the berry pies, and his gaze is a dance between shadowed from memories and bright with pride, because these are all things she wants to do. The things she looks forward to.
And truthfully, it means so much to him that he pulls her into another tight hug, a soft kiss pressed to the crown of her blonde head. “I wish the world was nicer to everyone, too.” He agrees softly, pulling away so that he can scan the staircase too – wondering if it was even a wish that could be accomplished. “We’re all a part of it though, Ria. And it’s up to us as well as the others to set examples.” He offers gently, gaze returning to his daughter. “If we’re nicer to someone, then perhaps they’ll be nicer to the next, and so on and so on. I know it doesn’t seem like much to do something that might seem like it’s so little… But overall?” He pauses, leaning in toward her to tell her a secret. “All it takes are a lot of little rain drops to make a flood.” There’s the edge of a smile that begins on the scarred side of his face, a dark brow raised beneath longer dark hair.
His head tilts while she squeezes his palm, watching her face like a hawk would for anything. “Yes, sweetheart?” He prompts her gently, waiting patiently until she’s done. And what she says isn’t at all what he expects. It warms something within him, something broken and empty and searching for any kind of balm. She grants him this in the future that she paints for them – a future that he hopes goes just as she describes.
He can’t help but to interject with a small boyish smile, perhaps one of the softest ones she’s seen on his rugged, scarred face. “I’m afraid I already have a few grey hairs, liefde.” He murmurs but settles so she can finish what she wants to say, a boost to his confidence of fatherhood, that maybe – just maybe – he isn’t too bad at this. She mentions his own mother and the flowers, the twins, the berry pies, and his gaze is a dance between shadowed from memories and bright with pride, because these are all things she wants to do. The things she looks forward to.
And truthfully, it means so much to him that he pulls her into another tight hug, a soft kiss pressed to the crown of her blonde head. “I wish the world was nicer to everyone, too.” He agrees softly, pulling away so that he can scan the staircase too – wondering if it was even a wish that could be accomplished. “We’re all a part of it though, Ria. And it’s up to us as well as the others to set examples.” He offers gently, gaze returning to his daughter. “If we’re nicer to someone, then perhaps they’ll be nicer to the next, and so on and so on. I know it doesn’t seem like much to do something that might seem like it’s so little… But overall?” He pauses, leaning in toward her to tell her a secret. “All it takes are a lot of little rain drops to make a flood.” There’s the edge of a smile that begins on the scarred side of his face, a dark brow raised beneath longer dark hair.
i cut my branch down from my family tree to start a fire in the living room
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.
