and if you want, i could tell you the truth
that this life takes a toll on you. i spend nights
’So?’ Gods, he doesn’t even know how to explain it. Instead, he watches her take aim and miss again and again, and he focuses on his own, taking up his bow again and another arrow, checking down the sights and pausing, holding his breath to keep from swaying or moving, feeling the light breeze ruffle his hair ever so slightly. He lets his arrow go and it misses, and he chides himself internally, shifting as he lowers his bow, stretches out his arm a bit, already feeling the exhaustion set in.
“So, I couldn’t tell her. I don’t even know where to begin to tell her.” He clenches his jaw. It’s not for lack of wanting to, lack of wanting his life to go back to some semblance of normal. He doesn’t know if it ever could, if it ever will, but he wonders what part of himself he could give up if the opportunity arose to change it, to go back in time and fix the decisions and mistakes he’d made. Perhaps it’d be easier that way, to sacrifice to fix.
He draws the arrow back again, grip tightening around the handle, squinting through the rising sun and holding his breath again before he aims once more. And this time, it slides into the space between where the dummy’s chest and arm meets. “Ter wille van Gods.” He curses beneath his short breath, running a hand through his hair, unable to focus because of the topic at hand, the insanity of it all.
“So I said nothing, while she went off claiming that it wasn't so bad if I stopped making it about me.” He finally says, knowing it's not the right words, but knowing that it's what happened, what caused him from saying anything to her and burying himself further away and further down, cold and detached and bitter. He clenches his jaw and refrains from looking at her as he focuses on the wind, the stance and placement he’s taken, literally anything else.
Ter wille van Gods. – for gods’ sake
“So, I couldn’t tell her. I don’t even know where to begin to tell her.” He clenches his jaw. It’s not for lack of wanting to, lack of wanting his life to go back to some semblance of normal. He doesn’t know if it ever could, if it ever will, but he wonders what part of himself he could give up if the opportunity arose to change it, to go back in time and fix the decisions and mistakes he’d made. Perhaps it’d be easier that way, to sacrifice to fix.
He draws the arrow back again, grip tightening around the handle, squinting through the rising sun and holding his breath again before he aims once more. And this time, it slides into the space between where the dummy’s chest and arm meets. “Ter wille van Gods.” He curses beneath his short breath, running a hand through his hair, unable to focus because of the topic at hand, the insanity of it all.
“So I said nothing, while she went off claiming that it wasn't so bad if I stopped making it about me.” He finally says, knowing it's not the right words, but knowing that it's what happened, what caused him from saying anything to her and burying himself further away and further down, cold and detached and bitter. He clenches his jaw and refrains from looking at her as he focuses on the wind, the stance and placement he’s taken, literally anything else.
Ter wille van Gods. – for gods’ sake
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.
