now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
She’s right again, that typically he doesn’t apologize at the end of a tirade. He doesn’t usually give in so easily. But he’s tired, in pain both physically and mentally, and he can’t keep the mask on here in Caido — it had been far easier in Dorobo, where people didn’t know him, where he could traverse from place to place, a ghost in the night. Here? People knew him, they knew what he was like, and it made it so difficult for him to keep his old habits.
Again, he was changing, and he really didn’t want to.
But she accepts his apology, and he exhales quietly in a small amount of relief at that, giving her a quiet nod in response to her inquiry. “Yes.” He pushes off the doorframe, aiming to guide her where she’d originally wanted him to lay down, the light still trickling in from the windows and gaps in the curtains. It wasn’t much, didn’t seem like it had been used much (it hadn’t because he usually slept down in the Advocates lair) but he passes off it anyway, pretending for the sake of pretending, that this was where he’d spent his time.
The bow and arrow Deimos made him sits along the corner of the wall, among other things akin to weaponry he’d been practicing with, but there wasn’t a trace of Lusea in this room — nothing but cold, dark fixtures. But Phoebe had told him to lay down, and so he does, slipping sluggishly from his jacket and his shirt with a quiet sigh, setting them on the chair before crawling under too stiff blankets, one hand resting behind his head, the other rubbing at his temple once again.
Again, he was changing, and he really didn’t want to.
But she accepts his apology, and he exhales quietly in a small amount of relief at that, giving her a quiet nod in response to her inquiry. “Yes.” He pushes off the doorframe, aiming to guide her where she’d originally wanted him to lay down, the light still trickling in from the windows and gaps in the curtains. It wasn’t much, didn’t seem like it had been used much (it hadn’t because he usually slept down in the Advocates lair) but he passes off it anyway, pretending for the sake of pretending, that this was where he’d spent his time.
The bow and arrow Deimos made him sits along the corner of the wall, among other things akin to weaponry he’d been practicing with, but there wasn’t a trace of Lusea in this room — nothing but cold, dark fixtures. But Phoebe had told him to lay down, and so he does, slipping sluggishly from his jacket and his shirt with a quiet sigh, setting them on the chair before crawling under too stiff blankets, one hand resting behind his head, the other rubbing at his temple once again.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
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.
