He remains still, eyes trained to the floor, working his jaw in silence as Safrin speaks, as Kamaria wishes to be told the story and Sunjata knows he’s absolutely incapable of preventing her from sharing it with their daughter. So all he can do is listen, staring at the floor, swallowing his frustrations and upset until he can feel a burn of acid in his throat, irritating the already inflamed edges.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have heard the Voice’s story, because it’s surprisingly relatable to Sunjata — having wanted to get out from under his father’s thumb, for thinking that he knew better and could make Korofi a better place. But he shuts down those thoughts as soon as they’re even combined in his mind.
It helps that the conversation shifts to Nate, it gives him something else to focus on, a protective urge to ignore what Safrin says is largely the root of the issue he finds, though, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, his shoulders taking on a rapidly changing mix of feathers and plated scales. Torn, that’s what he is.
His head lifts, still unable to look to his daughter and her mother, instead picking the window over the shoulders of them, wondering how quickly darkness would befall them all. But Safrin’s voice cuts in and Sunjata’s immediate response is to ask if Safrin can do the same to him with the mark on his rib, with the tattoo on his chest.
But that wouldn’t be seen as a bad thing in Kamaria’s eyes, to have Safrin’s influence wherever they went.
He’s bitter about all of it, truthfully, and he bites his tongue to the best of his ability. [say]I don’t trust anyone else.[/say] He tells her openly, flatly, as if it matters at all because something tells him it doesn’t. [say]You vowed you would never set me against him. Is this any different? Firmly rooting myself here and drifting further and further away from him?[/say] He winces at being unable to bite his tongue from that, only to sigh and drop his gaze to the floor. [say]I am tired, Safrin. The last person I trusted betrayed me and harmed my governing because of it. I can’t let anyone else in.[/say] A spark of honesty, muddled against his outburst.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have heard the Voice’s story, because it’s surprisingly relatable to Sunjata — having wanted to get out from under his father’s thumb, for thinking that he knew better and could make Korofi a better place. But he shuts down those thoughts as soon as they’re even combined in his mind.
It helps that the conversation shifts to Nate, it gives him something else to focus on, a protective urge to ignore what Safrin says is largely the root of the issue he finds, though, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, his shoulders taking on a rapidly changing mix of feathers and plated scales. Torn, that’s what he is.
His head lifts, still unable to look to his daughter and her mother, instead picking the window over the shoulders of them, wondering how quickly darkness would befall them all. But Safrin’s voice cuts in and Sunjata’s immediate response is to ask if Safrin can do the same to him with the mark on his rib, with the tattoo on his chest.
But that wouldn’t be seen as a bad thing in Kamaria’s eyes, to have Safrin’s influence wherever they went.
He’s bitter about all of it, truthfully, and he bites his tongue to the best of his ability. [say]I don’t trust anyone else.[/say] He tells her openly, flatly, as if it matters at all because something tells him it doesn’t. [say]You vowed you would never set me against him. Is this any different? Firmly rooting myself here and drifting further and further away from him?[/say] He winces at being unable to bite his tongue from that, only to sigh and drop his gaze to the floor. [say]I am tired, Safrin. The last person I trusted betrayed me and harmed my governing because of it. I can’t let anyone else in.[/say] A spark of honesty, muddled against his outburst.
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.
