what's harder, harder to fake? that you want me to stay, or that you want me to stay the same
for you? chained to a lie. who's to blame? let it die. we're the same
for you? chained to a lie. who's to blame? let it die. we're the same
If he’s being truthful, Sunjata had never wanted LongNight to go like this. Had never wanted to venture out into Torchline during it, never wanted to be the one that took the brunt of the damage of the octopus in the tunnels of Rae’s Fingers. He’d rather have stayed a large berth away from it, ignoring it because it wasn’t his job, but again it was his job that had gotten him involved in the first place. Just as it was Nate’s job that had gotten him involved in his own attack as well. And then of course, Clem’s death. Nate had been closer to the boy than Sunjata had been, but it still fucking hurt regardless.
Sunjata’s tired too. More emotionally than anything, because with the tiger striping of burns that Nate’s obsessively taken care of, he’s slept a lot if only to try and keep himself from moving too much. Everything hurts, breathing, drinking, all of it. And a migraine has formed as a cross between his body trying to heal itself and the light that filters in despite drawn curtains. It’s only added to more, Sunjata leaning over to his side – the left side to be exact, where less burns sit, a more manageable pain this way as he rubs at his temple and Nate departs the bed.
Haai is alerted by the sound, a quiet bark given despite Nate’s quick answer – and Sunjata can’t find it in him to listen for the conversation downstairs, instead choosing to listen to the pattering of rain on the roof, along the windows, drawing a blanket up and imagining that whomever it is, Nate can deal with it. He’s certainly in no position to.
But then there’s the weight of not just Nate on the bed, and Sunjata remains hidden away beneath the blanket, relishing in the darkness of it as his head throbs. “Who is it?” He asks, voice hoarse and far more accented than usual, his exhaustion evident with the shallow breaths.
Sunjata’s tired too. More emotionally than anything, because with the tiger striping of burns that Nate’s obsessively taken care of, he’s slept a lot if only to try and keep himself from moving too much. Everything hurts, breathing, drinking, all of it. And a migraine has formed as a cross between his body trying to heal itself and the light that filters in despite drawn curtains. It’s only added to more, Sunjata leaning over to his side – the left side to be exact, where less burns sit, a more manageable pain this way as he rubs at his temple and Nate departs the bed.
Haai is alerted by the sound, a quiet bark given despite Nate’s quick answer – and Sunjata can’t find it in him to listen for the conversation downstairs, instead choosing to listen to the pattering of rain on the roof, along the windows, drawing a blanket up and imagining that whomever it is, Nate can deal with it. He’s certainly in no position to.
But then there’s the weight of not just Nate on the bed, and Sunjata remains hidden away beneath the blanket, relishing in the darkness of it as his head throbs. “Who is it?” He asks, voice hoarse and far more accented than usual, his exhaustion evident with the shallow breaths.
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.
