SUNJATA
the flood
but is this what you want? what you wanted?
do you need love? am i enough for you?
do you need love? am i enough for you?
She takes a deep breath and he focuses on her a bit more, trying to relate just how much he regretted the sharpness of his words, the flash of a man who would have bled oil should they make him bleed. That wasn’t him, it wasn’t Sunjata. But it was a part of him, half of who he was, the attempt at trying to replace his father by making a smaller version of himself.
Only Sunjata held too much of the caring part of his mother – and that part is shown here in the regret, in the knowing that he’s upset her. And while the combination might have made a nightmare, it was who he was. And he couldn’t change it, in the end. He could simply try to make it better, to be better. And he had, for awhile.. Until now. Until too much blood loss and being told more unfortunate news after another, and the worry of losing her while she worried about losing him in turn.
It was enough to make his head spin.
And the small smile hidden within the colorless hues of her eyes, behind white snowflake lashes are good enough. And his gaze shudders and he swallows hard, relating to her words in a way that made his skin crawl beneath the blanket she’d so tenderly placed upon him – and he had been an asshole to her after that. He reaches for her again, trying to pull her up to him, to the other side where Haai didn’t lay so he could have his two girls close and nearby, even if it hurt at first to move against the wounds to his back. He didn’t care.
“Kom hier liefde.” He says to her, slipping back into Korofi. Come here love. It’s close enough, he thinks she might understand it, even with the way his lips churn and spin the words. “You did what you could, and look.” He says, trying to bring in that optimism. “I’m here, I’m okay. I’m safe. What would I do without you?” He says softly, brow lifting in that effort of trying to be him beneath the exhaustion and the weight of everything.
The weight that Maea may have felt the feeling he’d felt when he’d held Lusea as she bled to death on that marble foyer’s floor. But he’s here, alive, well enough. Sometimes that was all it took.
Only Sunjata held too much of the caring part of his mother – and that part is shown here in the regret, in the knowing that he’s upset her. And while the combination might have made a nightmare, it was who he was. And he couldn’t change it, in the end. He could simply try to make it better, to be better. And he had, for awhile.. Until now. Until too much blood loss and being told more unfortunate news after another, and the worry of losing her while she worried about losing him in turn.
It was enough to make his head spin.
And the small smile hidden within the colorless hues of her eyes, behind white snowflake lashes are good enough. And his gaze shudders and he swallows hard, relating to her words in a way that made his skin crawl beneath the blanket she’d so tenderly placed upon him – and he had been an asshole to her after that. He reaches for her again, trying to pull her up to him, to the other side where Haai didn’t lay so he could have his two girls close and nearby, even if it hurt at first to move against the wounds to his back. He didn’t care.
“Kom hier liefde.” He says to her, slipping back into Korofi. Come here love. It’s close enough, he thinks she might understand it, even with the way his lips churn and spin the words. “You did what you could, and look.” He says, trying to bring in that optimism. “I’m here, I’m okay. I’m safe. What would I do without you?” He says softly, brow lifting in that effort of trying to be him beneath the exhaustion and the weight of everything.
The weight that Maea may have felt the feeling he’d felt when he’d held Lusea as she bled to death on that marble foyer’s floor. But he’s here, alive, well enough. Sometimes that was all it took.
in time you'll find i've got my baggage too
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.
