SUNJATA
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
“That’s worse, somehow.” He admits quietly, mind racing toward the fact that she didn’t want to lie to him if she hadn’t been pregnant, as if he were some kind of monster who would have taken it out on two innocent children. It was an event that made him feel the closest to his father that he ever had, that stone faced Korofian lingering beneath him, raging to rise to the surface when given the opportunity, one that Sunjata tried to refrain from. Often. “You could have talked to me.” He suggests – though it does no use. They’re talking now, the past was in the past, and there’s far more holes in his heart than there had been this time last year.
After all, it’d been a year, hadn’t it? A year since he’d come home during the storms to meet Hotaru and Nate, to tell them what he’d done. A year since Nate had become a demigod. A year of hell that seemed to follow after.
She turns in his embrace, her face to his shoulder, forehead against his stubbled and scarred jaw, and he swallows hard before he tilts his head into her own, breathing her in while he can, his arm tightening around her. The other hand twists, moving to interlace with her own, brazened by the alcohol and the way she tries to change the subject.
“I don’t know what to do with myself, either.” He admits quietly. “Though something tells me nobody would appreciate me working at the Halenani, hm?” The tease is gentle, something that tries to lighten the mood as well even if internally he’s sour and bitter and distrustful. Her giggle arises and his head lifts, the bar spinning as he does so, incapable of shaking his head. “Honestly? Helps me sleep, that's about it.” Especially when Nate’s not there. If nothing else, he’s too drunk to toss and turn and wake up from the nightmares every night.
After all, it’d been a year, hadn’t it? A year since he’d come home during the storms to meet Hotaru and Nate, to tell them what he’d done. A year since Nate had become a demigod. A year of hell that seemed to follow after.
She turns in his embrace, her face to his shoulder, forehead against his stubbled and scarred jaw, and he swallows hard before he tilts his head into her own, breathing her in while he can, his arm tightening around her. The other hand twists, moving to interlace with her own, brazened by the alcohol and the way she tries to change the subject.
“I don’t know what to do with myself, either.” He admits quietly. “Though something tells me nobody would appreciate me working at the Halenani, hm?” The tease is gentle, something that tries to lighten the mood as well even if internally he’s sour and bitter and distrustful. Her giggle arises and his head lifts, the bar spinning as he does so, incapable of shaking his head. “Honestly? Helps me sleep, that's about it.” Especially when Nate’s not there. If nothing else, he’s too drunk to toss and turn and wake up from the nightmares every night.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
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.
