// the edge is getting closer, it's a long spiral down. it's so fun to fly 'til you hit the ground
i think i'm getting too close, i think i'm getting too close //
i think i'm getting too close, i think i'm getting too close //
It’s pain and then nothingness, darkness that encroaches, until it doesn’t.
And he’s suddenly aware of a brightness that glimmers in the backs of his eyelids, the red hue of something bright. he hears Ronin’s voice, confusion pulling him out of… Whatever this was, groggy enough that he can feel the softness of a blanket. His chest heaves. He’s breathing, and despite the calming words Ronin tries to offer, he jolts upright – hands immediately moving to his throat, finding it intact somehow. But there’s still blood, and it brings back memories that he’d long tried to forget, the blanket pooling in his lap, hands withdrawing to look at hands covered in blood with a bright sunny day above them.
He has to be dead. It’s LongNight. The sun won’t be up until the end of the week. He blinks up at the clouds drifting through the sky, a shuddering breath leaving him, hands trembling, refusing to look at Ronin as his gaze drops back to his hands and he swallows around a painful throat – but why, he can’t recall. “No.” He begins through a hoarse voice, choked previously with blood and claws. “I’m not.”
It’s unclear if he means that he’s not alive, or that he’s not alright.
And he’s suddenly aware of a brightness that glimmers in the backs of his eyelids, the red hue of something bright. he hears Ronin’s voice, confusion pulling him out of… Whatever this was, groggy enough that he can feel the softness of a blanket. His chest heaves. He’s breathing, and despite the calming words Ronin tries to offer, he jolts upright – hands immediately moving to his throat, finding it intact somehow. But there’s still blood, and it brings back memories that he’d long tried to forget, the blanket pooling in his lap, hands withdrawing to look at hands covered in blood with a bright sunny day above them.
He has to be dead. It’s LongNight. The sun won’t be up until the end of the week. He blinks up at the clouds drifting through the sky, a shuddering breath leaving him, hands trembling, refusing to look at Ronin as his gaze drops back to his hands and he swallows around a painful throat – but why, he can’t recall. “No.” He begins through a hoarse voice, choked previously with blood and claws. “I’m not.”
It’s unclear if he means that he’s not alive, or that he’s not alright.
it's hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands
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.
