// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //
some have names but most do not //
He’s cautious at first to bring it up – knowing the kind of wrench thrown into everything between them that Nate had been. And yet, the Ascended demigod had shaped him, changed him, destroyed him when he’d died that Sunjata had no other choice than to piece himself back together – only it had taken quite a long time to find all the pieces. And even now, there are parts that feel as though they are missing, filled by the memories Hotaru offers when they find it in themselves to even talk about the Lone Ranger.
Petronella offers as much of a purr that the sea panther can, content to be pet by whomever was willing to give her attention – bonus points for those that seemed apprehensive at first, as Maea had. And for him, well, his attention finds her pale face when she looks out and away from him, taking the moment to study her and see the horns that sprout from her head. “Purpose.” His accented voice rumbles the repeated statement.
As for his happiness, well, he is happy. “Hotaru has been helping me with that.” He offers as gently as he can, precisely at the time that her shoulders slump and Petronella slides off to offer comfort where she can, the Flood watching as she tries to hide the tears that fall and feeling as though part of that is from his presence and admissions.
They aren’t close anymore, but that doesn’t mean that Sunjata doesn’t care. He’s less of an asshole these days, far more cautious of people’s thoughts and opinions than he had been before, whether or not he listened to the instinct. He’d been paying attention, and it’s something that has him reaching for her as he shifts into a better position, giving her no warning and knowing it’s likely the last place she wants to be, but he pulls her in for a hug – to let her cry on his shoulder if she needs to.
Because even though his heart feels like a punching bag on its last thread of hope, it’s still there. Still enough to offer what comfort he can to the people that had changed and shaped him along the way.
Petronella offers as much of a purr that the sea panther can, content to be pet by whomever was willing to give her attention – bonus points for those that seemed apprehensive at first, as Maea had. And for him, well, his attention finds her pale face when she looks out and away from him, taking the moment to study her and see the horns that sprout from her head. “Purpose.” His accented voice rumbles the repeated statement.
As for his happiness, well, he is happy. “Hotaru has been helping me with that.” He offers as gently as he can, precisely at the time that her shoulders slump and Petronella slides off to offer comfort where she can, the Flood watching as she tries to hide the tears that fall and feeling as though part of that is from his presence and admissions.
They aren’t close anymore, but that doesn’t mean that Sunjata doesn’t care. He’s less of an asshole these days, far more cautious of people’s thoughts and opinions than he had been before, whether or not he listened to the instinct. He’d been paying attention, and it’s something that has him reaching for her as he shifts into a better position, giving her no warning and knowing it’s likely the last place she wants to be, but he pulls her in for a hug – to let her cry on his shoulder if she needs to.
Because even though his heart feels like a punching bag on its last thread of hope, it’s still there. Still enough to offer what comfort he can to the people that had changed and shaped him along the way.
the flood
// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //
let me know what piece i've lost //
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.
