you should know, that i'm a ticking time bomb
and you're getting close
He stacks up the marble exterior more and more as she wraps her arms around his waist, weeping into his chest to where the tears felt cold against his skin. He fucked up, immensely, but was it better to have it happen now? Before the room was full of things that were theirs and he realized it would never work until he figured himself out?
He was only delaying the inevitable the longer it went on; and Maea had unfortunately been stuck in the crosshairs, screaming her hurt and he builds the walls further with each single brick. His arms wrap around her, hold her tight, strong while the world falls apart for her — when he hopes, somehow deep down, that he’s opened it for her. That she might try to be more daring, try to do new things, while he gets his shit together. “I’m sorry.” He says again, soft and quiet, keeping his words to the minimum to keep his deep tones from shaking.
He had flooded her, and now where did that leave her? Like this, pouring him out of her, calming only to stir again. He does nothing else other than hold her close, fitting her into his lap on the floor, letting her cry and shake and scream and tremble. Because what else can he do? He can’t make it better, can’t take it all back with the way his head swims, fuzzy and full of alcohol and conversations that had gotten too deep too quickly.
He needs a break. She needs a break. She needs to find out that there are ways you can love people differently, that there’s so much potential for her if she simply went out to get it. As for him? He needed to drown in the shadows further and further until maybe, eventually, there might be a light. But he’s always been pegged as the villain in the story, and perhaps now he realizes it. The Devil’s Advocate, the monster he told her he was, with blood coating his hands and shadows and storms too deep to trudge through.
And so he holds her, giving her his warmth while he remains still, even, a pillar. A storm raging within.
He was only delaying the inevitable the longer it went on; and Maea had unfortunately been stuck in the crosshairs, screaming her hurt and he builds the walls further with each single brick. His arms wrap around her, hold her tight, strong while the world falls apart for her — when he hopes, somehow deep down, that he’s opened it for her. That she might try to be more daring, try to do new things, while he gets his shit together. “I’m sorry.” He says again, soft and quiet, keeping his words to the minimum to keep his deep tones from shaking.
He had flooded her, and now where did that leave her? Like this, pouring him out of her, calming only to stir again. He does nothing else other than hold her close, fitting her into his lap on the floor, letting her cry and shake and scream and tremble. Because what else can he do? He can’t make it better, can’t take it all back with the way his head swims, fuzzy and full of alcohol and conversations that had gotten too deep too quickly.
He needs a break. She needs a break. She needs to find out that there are ways you can love people differently, that there’s so much potential for her if she simply went out to get it. As for him? He needed to drown in the shadows further and further until maybe, eventually, there might be a light. But he’s always been pegged as the villain in the story, and perhaps now he realizes it. The Devil’s Advocate, the monster he told her he was, with blood coating his hands and shadows and storms too deep to trudge through.
And so he holds her, giving her his warmth while he remains still, even, a pillar. A storm raging within.
so better watch your step, because i'm about to blow
and where the pieces land i guess we'll never know
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.
