and if you want, i could tell you the truth
that this life takes a toll on you. i spend nights
It isn’t that he hadn’t wanted to, the timing hadn’t been right, the accusations thrown at him around every corner, until he’s latched onto the insecurity deep within Phoebe enough to draw her out into the cold, and he had been happy for it – had hesitated to go after her, thought perhaps that the cannibals, cultists, or ursurs could have her and solve all of his problems. But even he wasn’t as cold as that, despite how much he hated the situation she’d put him in.
He had wanted to tell her, to make some sort of ultimatum. But out here in public when he hasn’t had a chance to mention anything yet – well, for appearances sake he keeps it on.
The playfulness is shut off from Maea’s end, and he can tell that much as he offers the bows, finally deigning to look at her and he can see how icy she is, how closed off she is, and he realizes why as he glances back down to the hands offering the bows. He’d taken the ring off for her, and slipped it back on, kept it. He exhales a rasping, quiet sigh at her own businesslike tone, but pushes on – unable to talk to her while the others mill around. Thankfully, they should be wrapping up soon to head inside.
“Hold your arms out like this.” He offers her, showing how to spread them apart in a relaxed posture, so he can measure and divide, to figure out just what size string she requires, what would be the most successful. He sets the bows aside and waits for her to begin, before he steps closer to her and in her space, dark steel eyes scanning over the measurement from her middle finger to the other middle finger, before he reaches to the box beside him and grabs a piece of twine, to add to the measurement and ensure he gets as close to accurate, gaze avoiding hers as he looks to her pale arms and too big clothes.
He had wanted to tell her, to make some sort of ultimatum. But out here in public when he hasn’t had a chance to mention anything yet – well, for appearances sake he keeps it on.
The playfulness is shut off from Maea’s end, and he can tell that much as he offers the bows, finally deigning to look at her and he can see how icy she is, how closed off she is, and he realizes why as he glances back down to the hands offering the bows. He’d taken the ring off for her, and slipped it back on, kept it. He exhales a rasping, quiet sigh at her own businesslike tone, but pushes on – unable to talk to her while the others mill around. Thankfully, they should be wrapping up soon to head inside.
“Hold your arms out like this.” He offers her, showing how to spread them apart in a relaxed posture, so he can measure and divide, to figure out just what size string she requires, what would be the most successful. He sets the bows aside and waits for her to begin, before he steps closer to her and in her space, dark steel eyes scanning over the measurement from her middle finger to the other middle finger, before he reaches to the box beside him and grabs a piece of twine, to add to the measurement and ensure he gets as close to accurate, gaze avoiding hers as he looks to her pale arms and too big clothes.
stitching up the loose threads of my soul
so in the morning i'm bullet proof
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.
