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
Prayer was something Sunjata sought often, more and more as the weeks went on, and yet? Yet he still kept much of it to himself. Not willing to get into too many details of his worries and fears, simply just tucking them away within himself again and again. It’s like that now, buried thoughts swallowed down hard as he drifts from the stairs up above. Nate had bound the broken wing and yet Sunjata hasn’t been able to partially shift it back yet, trying to let it heal enough that he could for the upcoming reception.
And so he drifts, the edges of the wings dragging along the stone stairs until he makes it out into the night, pausing to glance down the path toward home. It appears longer than it is, provided he hasn’t gotten turned around as he has before, and he takes the moment to light a cigarette, letting his wings block the evening wind from affecting the light of the match. And when he withdraws them again, that’s when he notices something (someone) that wasn’t there before.
There’s a strange sort of nostalgia that overcomes him with the sight. How many times had they met under the lighthouse? “Maea.” He murmurs his greeting to her, his tone far more exhausted and less stressed than it had been before — having had time to process it all, to figure things out, and of course to have that horrible meeting with his father that he’s kept quite the hidden secret.
And so he drifts, the edges of the wings dragging along the stone stairs until he makes it out into the night, pausing to glance down the path toward home. It appears longer than it is, provided he hasn’t gotten turned around as he has before, and he takes the moment to light a cigarette, letting his wings block the evening wind from affecting the light of the match. And when he withdraws them again, that’s when he notices something (someone) that wasn’t there before.
There’s a strange sort of nostalgia that overcomes him with the sight. How many times had they met under the lighthouse? “Maea.” He murmurs his greeting to her, his tone far more exhausted and less stressed than it had been before — having had time to process it all, to figure things out, and of course to have that horrible meeting with his father that he’s kept quite the hidden secret.
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.
