i know, i've got a lot to learn

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

It had been hard, initially just to even go through everything. It had stayed in place as if he’d had this hopeless thought that the longer it stayed there, the further from the war they got, that Isla might have lied about it and Nate hadn’t perished in the war, like he’d walk right back through those doors with open arms. But as time went on, it became more and more unlikely, and rather than let them collect dust like he lived in a mausoleum of his husband, he’d gotten drunk one night and organized the majority, still finding it difficult to part with any of it.

Now, it was time. He couldn’t hoard everything to himself, it would be a disservice to the man that had changed so much in so many lives. And this gift in particular is one that Sunjata couldn’t imagine going to anyone else but the Honeybee.

At the tear, though, he has to look away — down at the trinkets and items to ensure that he doesn’t start to fall apart himself, evidenced by the hoarseness of his accented throat when he clears it, nodding as he reaches for his glass of water, managing a rough laugh around the tightness of his throat. “Me neither. I do a piss poor job at it for someone that got into enough shit. Would’ve helped a lot.” He rumbles, taking a sip of the water as if it would chase away the cobwebs of his throat.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?