temporary fleeting thrills, keep me bruised and make me ill
my skin has lavender tones
my skin has lavender tones
Even as Bart gruffs out that statement, he doesn’t need to continue it. Sunjata understands, perhaps better than most, and it’s a part of him that he remains ashamed of deep down in the crevices of his broken, shattered soul. And as Bart stares down between them, Sunjata’s own gaze closes, as if to blot out the environment, to pretend that it is just the two of them on the edge of this merry little gathering that feels too sunny and bright now for the storm clouds of their conversation.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He murmurs in the space between them, the Flood choosing plenty of things to still be mad at. He’s still mad at the Voice, despite her death. He’s mad at everyone’s inability to work together after he’d made it appear possible. He’s mad at the world and it’s injustice for making people like them have to choose and then suffer with the consequences. “You can still fight for those that don’t have the gods favor. You can channel the anger into something.” He doesn’t know what, the emotions have ravaged his brain enough to not be able to think about much.
He tries to figure out an example, but comes up with nothing as he heaves another shaky breath, sniffs in the hopes it hides the one teardrop that falls. “I don’t have a purpose these days… I just.. Try and figure out what Frey needs of me and what I can do in their name and try to go from there.” He releases Bart, if only to adjust his arm to wrap around his brother-in-law's shoulders instead. “So far it’s been making a brothel. I don’t know if that’s your sort of thing, but, I don’t think I’d mind it if you remained a thorn in my side.” He tries to lighten the conversation as best he can.
After all, he knows deep down that Nate would want nothing more than to have his brother and husband at least get along, even in a shitty, teasing, brotherly sort of way.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He murmurs in the space between them, the Flood choosing plenty of things to still be mad at. He’s still mad at the Voice, despite her death. He’s mad at everyone’s inability to work together after he’d made it appear possible. He’s mad at the world and it’s injustice for making people like them have to choose and then suffer with the consequences. “You can still fight for those that don’t have the gods favor. You can channel the anger into something.” He doesn’t know what, the emotions have ravaged his brain enough to not be able to think about much.
He tries to figure out an example, but comes up with nothing as he heaves another shaky breath, sniffs in the hopes it hides the one teardrop that falls. “I don’t have a purpose these days… I just.. Try and figure out what Frey needs of me and what I can do in their name and try to go from there.” He releases Bart, if only to adjust his arm to wrap around his brother-in-law's shoulders instead. “So far it’s been making a brothel. I don’t know if that’s your sort of thing, but, I don’t think I’d mind it if you remained a thorn in my side.” He tries to lighten the conversation as best he can.
After all, he knows deep down that Nate would want nothing more than to have his brother and husband at least get along, even in a shitty, teasing, brotherly sort of way.
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.
