now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
Had Deimos asked about the whale, he would have said yes. He’d known what he was, had seen them before – rarely, but occasionally there would be a pod off the coast of the ocean, playful and dancing along the surf. It was the biggest form that could deal the biggest damage, that couldn’t be slowed easily by the mud when there were little to latch onto. And gods how he tried and tried, drowned and drowned, fought and suffocated and survived in the end when others hadn’t.
It was a burden to bear, and one he was all too familiar with, it hit too close to home, and it withdraws him further into his sickened mind of confusion and frustration, headaches and fevers that impair a small amount of judgement in certain regards. All in all, he’s being too hard on himself at this present moment, and he tries to take a step back as Deimos’ voice rumbles up. A slight nod is given toward him in acknowledgement. That he had tried.
When he speaks of the blight next, Sunjata can’t help but to let his gaze lift toward the Sword. He can understand the thought pattern, what might have started it all springing from the place it had all began, in the end. “I had the blight.” Sunjata murmurs softly, a quiet rasp before he shakes his head ever so slightly.
The question, however, almost like a double edged sword. They could give up and let others suffer. Or they could trudge on and take the wins when they came, deal with the losses when they came. “No… No it does not.” Perhaps it’s a good metaphor for his soon to be wedding, too, hitting a bit closer to home than he expects. He swallows hard and goes to help hold another piece of wood wherever Deimos might need it.
“We try harder the next time and learn from our mistakes.” His gaze lifts to glance at Deimos, a dark brow raised in a silent question.
It was a burden to bear, and one he was all too familiar with, it hit too close to home, and it withdraws him further into his sickened mind of confusion and frustration, headaches and fevers that impair a small amount of judgement in certain regards. All in all, he’s being too hard on himself at this present moment, and he tries to take a step back as Deimos’ voice rumbles up. A slight nod is given toward him in acknowledgement. That he had tried.
When he speaks of the blight next, Sunjata can’t help but to let his gaze lift toward the Sword. He can understand the thought pattern, what might have started it all springing from the place it had all began, in the end. “I had the blight.” Sunjata murmurs softly, a quiet rasp before he shakes his head ever so slightly.
The question, however, almost like a double edged sword. They could give up and let others suffer. Or they could trudge on and take the wins when they came, deal with the losses when they came. “No… No it does not.” Perhaps it’s a good metaphor for his soon to be wedding, too, hitting a bit closer to home than he expects. He swallows hard and goes to help hold another piece of wood wherever Deimos might need it.
“We try harder the next time and learn from our mistakes.” His gaze lifts to glance at Deimos, a dark brow raised in a silent question.
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.
