we owe this to ourselves

SUNJATA

i was never the sharp knife, but i was never the dull mind
i was somewhere in between, a thorn, an acquiescent

There’s a small amount of bristling that, if he’d known she was attuned, he’d hide it better. But it seems they’re both surprised by the realization, the bristling and bitterness shifting immediately into the sensation of holy shit. So the macaw stands, shakes out his feathers, eyes the woman curiously before his thickly accented voice slips across the bone toward her. It’s alright. Sorry to interrupt. He offers quietly, before settling on the branch a moment longer while his head spins.

Somehow, he thinks being in a shift isn’t helping matters much; but there’s also the wariness of showing who he really is — and the demigod is torn between the two for long enough that his head continues to throb and he heaves an internal, mental sigh, shifting on his branch back into himself. His long legs drape over the edges of the branch, a hand lifting to rub at his face, covering the scar that tugs on the side of his cheek, but not hiding the lightning scars that dance along his hand and the scar that bisects his eyebrow.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be on my way.”

so you said it was for me, when you tried to break me
well you can save your breath, i know, i'm not the kind you pray for