[se] where's the day I'll have started forgetting

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

“Was there any other option?” Sunjata asks quietly. He doesn’t think there was, the second everyone’s minds were made up, there wasn’t any way of changing that. Not with the gods agreeing, breathing down their necks. The Voice, from where Sunjata stood, seemed to be the outlier – the one that would have preferred any route. The Old Gods, the ones he’d aligned with? Already were poised, preparing for it. “Protect my own, yeah.” The Flood shrugs, grabbing a few more jagged pieces and tossing them in the trash corner.

As for the congratulations and the comments of his grey hairs, the laugh that leaves Amun despite his face not changing anything has Sunjata nodding, a small snort leaving him. “I think the grey hairs came from having a child with Safrin, but…” He shrugs, casting his gaze back toward the potter. “I think it’s safe enough.” Though he gets the joke. He’s leaning on the idea of him being a governor didn’t make him a king. He’s banking on that.

Once enough of the space had been cleaned up, Sunjata works to take the trash out of the room, opening up the space more for more cleaning. And when he returns after removing the trash, he moves to the corner, using his magic to summon a fair amount of water, getting the floor wet enough to scrub with a cloth and wipe away with clean water. “The more I live here the more I realize that peace isn’t really… Possible.” He grimaces, working on the dirt and dust glued to the flooring.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA