now i'm afraid to sleep at night, those who love me never felt the light
Oh how he rolls his eyes, lighthearted enough now that Nate’s back to find it in himself to snort in response. If only it were so easy to perish the drama, to push it aside. He’s lived under a rock since then, kept to himself mostly, kept in others beds – which he supposes is certainly not something Frey would complain about. Regardless, he takes a deep sip of the cooled drink, hissing lightly as it slides down his throat.
“A lot, actually.” He admits, drawing up to sit a little straighter, cradling the cold glass in his hand. “Do you remember a few seasons ago when all the stars went out of the sky in Flowerbirth of all seasons?” He poses the question, solely prepared to answer immediately, even if he knows or doesn’t know. “That was me. Sort of. I pissed Safrin off a great deal and she almost killed me.” It had been later, of course, because in that time he doesn’t know how long he’d spent in Frey’s reality fringes to burn the goddess of the stars from his soul, to scrub him clean.
And because he’s dramatic, he waves a hand - the arm one that used to be covered nearly completely with tattoos of waves, now barren and lightning scarred, creating little droplets of water that begin to spin like diamonds in the reflection of the pale light that filters in behind the curtains. “I’m Frey’s man now.”
“A lot, actually.” He admits, drawing up to sit a little straighter, cradling the cold glass in his hand. “Do you remember a few seasons ago when all the stars went out of the sky in Flowerbirth of all seasons?” He poses the question, solely prepared to answer immediately, even if he knows or doesn’t know. “That was me. Sort of. I pissed Safrin off a great deal and she almost killed me.” It had been later, of course, because in that time he doesn’t know how long he’d spent in Frey’s reality fringes to burn the goddess of the stars from his soul, to scrub him clean.
And because he’s dramatic, he waves a hand - the arm one that used to be covered nearly completely with tattoos of waves, now barren and lightning scarred, creating little droplets of water that begin to spin like diamonds in the reflection of the pale light that filters in behind the curtains. “I’m Frey’s man now.”
haunted by the darkest sky
tell me, who the hell am i? tell me, who the hell am i?
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.
