we owe this to ourselves

SUNJATA

i was never the sharp knife, but i was never the dull mind
i was somewhere in between, a thorn, an acquiescent

She can get away with it. He’s not a monster, after all, and even manages a huff of laughter as she teases him. He shakes his head now that the ache in it is mostly gone. “I thought for a second you were my sister, so I tried to look again and hit the branch.” And then spiraled out of control, which she’d certainly seen.

But that’s neither here nor there. Especially as he informs her that he’d done the drop she wishes to do — a thrilling jump from the highest part of the oerwoud, until the ground starts to catch up, only to shift and fly out of there.

The Feverlands, on the other hand, create a bittersweet memory for him — one of relic hunting and losing his companion, a pain to his soul that still sharpened his senses if he thought too long on it. “The Feverlands are quite possibly my least favorite place here.” He admits, wrinkling his freckled nose. “I’m a fan of King’s End, though. It’s where I live currently.” In either the brothel that was the House of Midnight, or the refuge he’d made before the war.

All of them not too far from the house he’d shared with his late husband.

so you said it was for me, when you tried to break me
well you can save your breath, i know, i'm not the kind you pray for