// with each love i cut loose, i was never the same
watching still living roots be consumed by the flame //
watching still living roots be consumed by the flame //
Her suggestion has his nose wrinkling again and a heavy weary sigh escaping from his chest. “Gods I hope not.” He mutters after a moment, snorting as his attention returns to the kite, watching as the wind picks his up and takes it off above them – a small shape of a dragon soaring above, somewhat erratically in the winds. He watches as hers lifts as well, before he can feel her stare and the way she looks at him agape, and he raises that scarred brow of his as if to say what?
Regardless, it was entire up to her and Sunjata remains silent as he drifts his attention from the kites to his niece, listening to the wariness and the complaints. “It’s still basically wild, so, anything? There’s the Boondocks if you wanted to make your own little outpost. We could fix that up and make a port?” It’s the first suggestion that comes to mind before he shrugs again. “Whatever you want to do, you can. We’ll be building it from the ground up.” No need to deal with previous years of places and shops, buildings to take over. It was a clean slate to start over. “I intend on making a road that connects most of King’s End to each other and had hoped to make a little town in between the Refuge and where the House of Midnight sits. Somewhere in the Barrows.” Far enough away that she would be comfortable.
“But, again, you don’t have to make a decision right now. I just…” He shrugs, trailing off, looking back up at the kite because he’s about to be sentimental and he’s never been good at sharing his feelings (too used to it backfiring on him in his youth). “It’s been great reconnecting and being a part of your life again. And my ultimate goal these days is keeping close to my family.” (What's left of it.) And while yes, that could still happen with her in Torchline, it would be more of this – scheduling visits and catch up times when she could just show up anytime, whenever she pleased. It would be how the house in Torchline should have been, had he not been stupid and ruined everything he had there.
This was his chance to start over, to redo it. To prove to himself that he has changed.
Regardless, it was entire up to her and Sunjata remains silent as he drifts his attention from the kites to his niece, listening to the wariness and the complaints. “It’s still basically wild, so, anything? There’s the Boondocks if you wanted to make your own little outpost. We could fix that up and make a port?” It’s the first suggestion that comes to mind before he shrugs again. “Whatever you want to do, you can. We’ll be building it from the ground up.” No need to deal with previous years of places and shops, buildings to take over. It was a clean slate to start over. “I intend on making a road that connects most of King’s End to each other and had hoped to make a little town in between the Refuge and where the House of Midnight sits. Somewhere in the Barrows.” Far enough away that she would be comfortable.
“But, again, you don’t have to make a decision right now. I just…” He shrugs, trailing off, looking back up at the kite because he’s about to be sentimental and he’s never been good at sharing his feelings (too used to it backfiring on him in his youth). “It’s been great reconnecting and being a part of your life again. And my ultimate goal these days is keeping close to my family.” (What's left of it.) And while yes, that could still happen with her in Torchline, it would be more of this – scheduling visits and catch up times when she could just show up anytime, whenever she pleased. It would be how the house in Torchline should have been, had he not been stupid and ruined everything he had there.
This was his chance to start over, to redo it. To prove to himself that he has changed.
the flood
// i was fixed on your hand of gold //
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.
