[se] where's the day I'll have started forgetting

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

There’s a lot of faces Sunjata hasn’t seen in a while. But it’s rare when those crop up again, even rarer when he’s stepping down the cobblestone path of the Domiciles, having headed from the VlamVloed to go on an errand run, to see one that’s been missing for some time. The door to the pottery shop is ajar, the building in shambles, and Sunjata slows the closer he gets – working the scar that spans the side of his face, his longer hair tucked back away from his face as his steel gaze dances between what feels like a ghost and the ruined shop.

But he can’t just leave it, stilling the closer to the potter he gets, his head cocking slightly. “Amun?” He asks, unsure if maybe he’s some kind of doppleganger of sorts, before he clears his throat. “Long time no see.” He murmurs, straightening up his posture. Since the last time they’d seen one another, Sunjata had been Safrin’s through and through – with the starry tattoos to mark himself one of hers that she’d even implemented and finished up herself. And now? Now he stands before Amun nearly bare of his tattoos, aside from the compass and wings, and one wave sleeve – with brand new scars shedding through both compasses on his chest and tucking down beneath his shirt collar.

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

SUNJATA