temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones
my skin has lavender tones
He wasn’t fit enough to take care of the kids once Nate had passed. He could barely (selfishly) take care of himself. So those daggers dip in further against his chest until it feels like the pressure won’t release, especially as Bart’s accent continues to rip off those bandaids he’d thought he’d applied better this time.
He bitterly keeps the fact he’d gone out into the ocean, the times he’d hoped he’d waste away, locked behind his teeth, however. Instead, making way for a scoff to leave him at the mention of Melita again. “When I assume, I’m typically right.” He snaps, unable to keep his temper in check. “You can ask her if you don’t believe me.” Of course, he doesn’t really know what she’ll say, but if it’s anything like the rest of their interactions, he thinks he’s got a good guess.
As for Isla and the rest of it, he lifts a lightning scarred hand to his face, pressing two fingers against his temple as if staving off the headache that tries to form. The hand drops and his lips part to reply to that shiv, when he continues on and Sunjata almost wishes it was a physical fight if only to keep the mental shadows from overtaking him again after he’d worked so hard to try and work through it.
“I found out he died the day the war ended. It was something everyone else seemed to know as I stepped out of the refuge. Isla was the one to tell me.” She had been one of the last remaining Ascended, after all. “You’re right. I didn’t hold a funeral for him. That doesn’t mean I didn’t fucking love him!” Frustration airs in his throat, in the way he has to cut himself off to take a breath to keep his voice from cracking, to swallow to keep the stubborn gleam of tears in his gaze. “I am trying to make the hurt easier every day. I can’t even go and see Frey without being blindfolded because all I will see is him. He is everywhere, Bart. I don’t have to be the one to put reminders like billboards into the world. A world that, because of the Old Gods, hated him for what he was.”
He’s still shirtless, as he’d arrived to the party, and if Bart looked anywhere else but his face, he’d see the crudely scarred in ‘NW’ in Nate’s handwriting just under his heart.
He bitterly keeps the fact he’d gone out into the ocean, the times he’d hoped he’d waste away, locked behind his teeth, however. Instead, making way for a scoff to leave him at the mention of Melita again. “When I assume, I’m typically right.” He snaps, unable to keep his temper in check. “You can ask her if you don’t believe me.” Of course, he doesn’t really know what she’ll say, but if it’s anything like the rest of their interactions, he thinks he’s got a good guess.
As for Isla and the rest of it, he lifts a lightning scarred hand to his face, pressing two fingers against his temple as if staving off the headache that tries to form. The hand drops and his lips part to reply to that shiv, when he continues on and Sunjata almost wishes it was a physical fight if only to keep the mental shadows from overtaking him again after he’d worked so hard to try and work through it.
“I found out he died the day the war ended. It was something everyone else seemed to know as I stepped out of the refuge. Isla was the one to tell me.” She had been one of the last remaining Ascended, after all. “You’re right. I didn’t hold a funeral for him. That doesn’t mean I didn’t fucking love him!” Frustration airs in his throat, in the way he has to cut himself off to take a breath to keep his voice from cracking, to swallow to keep the stubborn gleam of tears in his gaze. “I am trying to make the hurt easier every day. I can’t even go and see Frey without being blindfolded because all I will see is him. He is everywhere, Bart. I don’t have to be the one to put reminders like billboards into the world. A world that, because of the Old Gods, hated him for what he was.”
He’s still shirtless, as he’d arrived to the party, and if Bart looked anywhere else but his face, he’d see the crudely scarred in ‘NW’ in Nate’s handwriting just under his heart.
the flood
tell me i'm a loaded gun, tie me up and come undone
i can cover it up, i can cover it up
i can cover it up, i can cover it up
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
