SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself
saving everybody else to save yourself
It’s true, that he has this uncanny ability to push people away when they get too close. And now at this point he doesn’t know if it’s to protect them so much as it is to protect himself. But it hurts, regardless, of which way it goes. So he lowers his hand back beneath the blanket when she turns to look at him, he keeps his face toward the ceiling, focusing on listening to her voice as it lifts the space between them, watching the light of the candles flicker behind his lids.
She tells him that she’s scared, that she still wants to know what it’s like to fall. And he can’t help the way he begins to chew on his lip, unsure and uncertain, if she wants the answer of what he has experienced. The fall was easy, it was wonderful, it was amazing. It was the landing that was the worst part.
But he does know one thing, that even though it hurt and destroyed him time and time again, he never regrets the feeling of what it was like.
Her hand finds his beneath the blanket, and it’s answer enough for him to try and lace his fingers with hers, turning his head then to look at her with some shadowed steel, swimming and glazed with a hint of alcohol remaining. “It’s a different kind of break.” He says quietly, unhelpfully, but he turns in the bed to face her then. “But at least it’s something in comparison to feeling nothing.” He had been hollow before he found the resistance, following orders and doing what he was told as though he was a machine.
He had never really felt alive before everything changed. And now he’d do anything he could to keep it, to try and refrain from being manipulated when he’d been conditioned from birth to be that way for his father. It was a never ending battle.
He searches her face for a moment, reaching up with his other hand to brush her hair out of her face, to tuck the pale strands behind her ear, fingers brushing against her cheek gently.
She tells him that she’s scared, that she still wants to know what it’s like to fall. And he can’t help the way he begins to chew on his lip, unsure and uncertain, if she wants the answer of what he has experienced. The fall was easy, it was wonderful, it was amazing. It was the landing that was the worst part.
But he does know one thing, that even though it hurt and destroyed him time and time again, he never regrets the feeling of what it was like.
Her hand finds his beneath the blanket, and it’s answer enough for him to try and lace his fingers with hers, turning his head then to look at her with some shadowed steel, swimming and glazed with a hint of alcohol remaining. “It’s a different kind of break.” He says quietly, unhelpfully, but he turns in the bed to face her then. “But at least it’s something in comparison to feeling nothing.” He had been hollow before he found the resistance, following orders and doing what he was told as though he was a machine.
He had never really felt alive before everything changed. And now he’d do anything he could to keep it, to try and refrain from being manipulated when he’d been conditioned from birth to be that way for his father. It was a never ending battle.
He searches her face for a moment, reaching up with his other hand to brush her hair out of her face, to tuck the pale strands behind her ear, fingers brushing against her cheek gently.
and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell
that's the story to tell
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.
