i closed my eyes and saw my father's sins, they covered me like a second skin
i peeled them off, and sure i bled a bit, but now i'm free to sink my own damn ship
i peeled them off, and sure i bled a bit, but now i'm free to sink my own damn ship
There is a deep part of him that wishes to argue back, that wishes to try so desperately hard to get Safrin to not see his husband as the enemy she calls him to be. But he doesn’t, he can’t, because there’s fear in the deeper recesses of him, exhaustion too heavily worn on his soul from all the bullshit recently that he almost shuts it off instead.
What’s more bullshit among the rest when you’re looking at an overwhelming pile in the first place? Negligible.
So he leans into the departure of his husband, to the kiss that’s shared and lets it warm him before the creeping cold settles in again, hands shoved in his pockets when he turns back to Safrin — avoiding her gaze to let a somber look watch their daughter. Safrin’s explanation so far of Nate, however, ruffles feathers and he finds himself looking away from the two of them. “She’s too young to hear the story, Safrin.” His voice is hoarse, an almost air of pleading with it not to tell her.
His own experiences in growing up with all the difficulties and stories have him wanting to protect Kamaria from the truth of it all for as long as he can. He doesn’t want Safrin to poison their daughter’s mind when she’s so impressionable. The thought of it terrifies him.
But she goes on, silent, cold, deadly — Sunjata’s head turning back as he works his jaw, gaze finding the shrine (anywhere but Safrin, truthfully) because he feels himself fracturing further with it. His father’s voice creeping into his mind, reminding him how he’s never changed, still too soft, still too stupid to ever rule anything with success. Why should he ever be surprised when things he cared for were taken from him?
Isn’t that how his story goes? Is it not how it would always go?
He sighs heavily, shoulders slumping, eyes trained on the floor — falling back into old habits. Okay. He works his jaw over and over and over again, wondering what he’d even tell his husband. A governorship here and gone in an instant and he feels absolutely horrible over it. And so, purely for his own selfish curiosity, he asks, what would you have me do after demoting Nate?
What’s more bullshit among the rest when you’re looking at an overwhelming pile in the first place? Negligible.
So he leans into the departure of his husband, to the kiss that’s shared and lets it warm him before the creeping cold settles in again, hands shoved in his pockets when he turns back to Safrin — avoiding her gaze to let a somber look watch their daughter. Safrin’s explanation so far of Nate, however, ruffles feathers and he finds himself looking away from the two of them. “She’s too young to hear the story, Safrin.” His voice is hoarse, an almost air of pleading with it not to tell her.
His own experiences in growing up with all the difficulties and stories have him wanting to protect Kamaria from the truth of it all for as long as he can. He doesn’t want Safrin to poison their daughter’s mind when she’s so impressionable. The thought of it terrifies him.
But she goes on, silent, cold, deadly — Sunjata’s head turning back as he works his jaw, gaze finding the shrine (anywhere but Safrin, truthfully) because he feels himself fracturing further with it. His father’s voice creeping into his mind, reminding him how he’s never changed, still too soft, still too stupid to ever rule anything with success. Why should he ever be surprised when things he cared for were taken from him?
Isn’t that how his story goes? Is it not how it would always go?
He sighs heavily, shoulders slumping, eyes trained on the floor — falling back into old habits. Okay. He works his jaw over and over and over again, wondering what he’d even tell his husband. A governorship here and gone in an instant and he feels absolutely horrible over it. And so, purely for his own selfish curiosity, he asks, what would you have me do after demoting Nate?
i cut my branch down from my family tree to start a fire in the living room
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.
