don't you know i'm no good for you?
“You are married to the Dean of the Medical College…” She doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before he’s grimacing beneath the scolding. To think that he had wanted her to see him like this is both in part amusing to him as well as enough to shame him, and he clenches his jaw, before taking another rattling sigh, another shake of his head. “It has to go through it’s course, Hotaru.” He gruffly replies to her, gaze lifting to reveal the honesty of it. “It’s in my lungs, I got it when I was suffocating in that creature that attacked the Festival.” He explains. “Loren healed me after I got out and it still developed, and I’m trying.” Sort of. Had he been trying, he wouldn’t have given into the barbs from Phoebe in Halo, wouldn’t have overexerted himself in the river in the Greatwood.
He was back on the spiral of self-destruction, but under a different name. No smoking, no drinking, no whoring to pass the days. Just left alone with his thoughts, his frustration, his spite towards his wife. And it never mixed well, never melded well, and it never would. And so he stares at that silver bracelet on her wrist, focusing on it like a lifeline as he offers a broken apology, only for her to drop his hand like he’d burned her. And he had, in more ways than one. He’d burned everyone involved, a spiraling flame of self-destruction, vibrant and bright and beautiful from afar, devastating when directly involved. And he’d involved everyone he’d cared about.
The question of if he were intending to fix the mistakes does have him slipping his other leg over the edge of the bone bridge, to stand and face her, though he still leans against the bone bridge ever so slightly. Her suggestion does cause him to run a hand through his hair, shifting and breaking and faltering within himself, the hand with the ring on it snagging at a horn before his gaze rises to meet her and he folds his arms along his chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He begins, unsteadily, before she tells him that he’s not forgiven – and his brow raises.
He hadn’t asked for forgiveness, had fully intended on burning with the blame until it ended him, fully deserving of it. But he can’t help but to tear his gaze away from her, lip curling in a small sneer. “I wanted to apologize for making shit mistakes, for doing exactly as you said I would, for falling for her tricks and giving in. I don’t want this marriage, I don’t want her, I don’t want the enchantments to these fucking rings.” He snaps with a slight pant of breath, fanged teeth clicking with his frustration.
He looks back at her then, with something shattering within his gaze. “I thought I could help her, but as per usual I got cornered and I had too much pride to give into her when she knew I’d back off. I agreed because she knew I wouldn’t, and then she went through with it just to spite me for it. That’s why it was only three days. That’s why I didn’t come and see you, because I didn’t know how to explain it. She gets under my skin and I do stupid things because of it, and every single day that I wake up –” He shudders for a moment, pausing to catch his breath, knowing that words aren’t his strong suit, knowing that he’s not good with them, but he has to tell her even if it makes her open that wooden box and stabs him with the gift within.
“– I realize it should have been you. It should have always been you.” He stares at her there, laid bare – she can see beneath the masks, the multitude, and she always has been. Her secrets, her past, the things she’s gone through would always be a secret with him too. That it isn’t his intention to ruin her, or break her, or any of that. That she had been the one to care for him the most after Lusea’s death, had made him realize how easily manipulated he was, and he had still fallen for it.
If anything, she didn’t deserve him, how strong and powerful she was when it came to handling her own life, when he fell back into old habits of picking up the pieces.
"Open it."
He was back on the spiral of self-destruction, but under a different name. No smoking, no drinking, no whoring to pass the days. Just left alone with his thoughts, his frustration, his spite towards his wife. And it never mixed well, never melded well, and it never would. And so he stares at that silver bracelet on her wrist, focusing on it like a lifeline as he offers a broken apology, only for her to drop his hand like he’d burned her. And he had, in more ways than one. He’d burned everyone involved, a spiraling flame of self-destruction, vibrant and bright and beautiful from afar, devastating when directly involved. And he’d involved everyone he’d cared about.
The question of if he were intending to fix the mistakes does have him slipping his other leg over the edge of the bone bridge, to stand and face her, though he still leans against the bone bridge ever so slightly. Her suggestion does cause him to run a hand through his hair, shifting and breaking and faltering within himself, the hand with the ring on it snagging at a horn before his gaze rises to meet her and he folds his arms along his chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He begins, unsteadily, before she tells him that he’s not forgiven – and his brow raises.
He hadn’t asked for forgiveness, had fully intended on burning with the blame until it ended him, fully deserving of it. But he can’t help but to tear his gaze away from her, lip curling in a small sneer. “I wanted to apologize for making shit mistakes, for doing exactly as you said I would, for falling for her tricks and giving in. I don’t want this marriage, I don’t want her, I don’t want the enchantments to these fucking rings.” He snaps with a slight pant of breath, fanged teeth clicking with his frustration.
He looks back at her then, with something shattering within his gaze. “I thought I could help her, but as per usual I got cornered and I had too much pride to give into her when she knew I’d back off. I agreed because she knew I wouldn’t, and then she went through with it just to spite me for it. That’s why it was only three days. That’s why I didn’t come and see you, because I didn’t know how to explain it. She gets under my skin and I do stupid things because of it, and every single day that I wake up –” He shudders for a moment, pausing to catch his breath, knowing that words aren’t his strong suit, knowing that he’s not good with them, but he has to tell her even if it makes her open that wooden box and stabs him with the gift within.
“– I realize it should have been you. It should have always been you.” He stares at her there, laid bare – she can see beneath the masks, the multitude, and she always has been. Her secrets, her past, the things she’s gone through would always be a secret with him too. That it isn’t his intention to ruin her, or break her, or any of that. That she had been the one to care for him the most after Lusea’s death, had made him realize how easily manipulated he was, and he had still fallen for it.
If anything, she didn’t deserve him, how strong and powerful she was when it came to handling her own life, when he fell back into old habits of picking up the pieces.
"Open it."
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
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.
