// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //
some have names but most do not //
Petronella is very easily distracted by the hair, batting at it with webbed paws, claws sharp where they try to tangle into the blonde hair that moves in a makeshift wind. Sunjata, on the other hand, is thankful for the distraction even as he fights with himself on reverting back into his past ways of coping. So instead, he listens to the gentle tone of her voice – thankful for the comfort, however cruel it might be. Sunjata’s moral compass at this point is a point that’s shifted time and time again.
Yeah. He says unhelpfully, but just to prove to her that her words are sinking in. He stops pinching the bridge of his nose in favor for rubbing his scarred palm along the side of his face, threading it back through his hair as he takes a deeper breath, hand slipping back down over his face, pressing against the scar that tears through the faded out freckles on the side of his cheek. I don’t want her to feel like Haai felt. He knows that there’s no elaboration here to help her along, but it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, knowing that she doesn’t know whether he means he doesn’t want her to occupy the space or if he doesn’t want her to feel the same emotions the griffin had – the bond feeling a strange sort of lurching pause as he formulates them. There was… An experiment once, when Haai could speak to me. And she was lonely and sad and.. A hiccupped laugh breaks through the quiet of the room despite the mental conversation.
Sunjata sniffs, trying to force the feelings back down, swallowing them until his stomach feels a lurch and grows nauseous. Pissed at me for it. His other hand twitches with the memory of Haai’s toothiness, remembering her little yelping growls and barks and the sharp teeth that accompanied them when he wasn’t listening to her pulses of guidance. And I know it was because she cared. We were intwined. But... You know what it was like. He doesn't need to remind her of the searing pain of having one's soul sliced right in two. I can't go through that again.
Yeah. He says unhelpfully, but just to prove to her that her words are sinking in. He stops pinching the bridge of his nose in favor for rubbing his scarred palm along the side of his face, threading it back through his hair as he takes a deeper breath, hand slipping back down over his face, pressing against the scar that tears through the faded out freckles on the side of his cheek. I don’t want her to feel like Haai felt. He knows that there’s no elaboration here to help her along, but it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, knowing that she doesn’t know whether he means he doesn’t want her to occupy the space or if he doesn’t want her to feel the same emotions the griffin had – the bond feeling a strange sort of lurching pause as he formulates them. There was… An experiment once, when Haai could speak to me. And she was lonely and sad and.. A hiccupped laugh breaks through the quiet of the room despite the mental conversation.
Sunjata sniffs, trying to force the feelings back down, swallowing them until his stomach feels a lurch and grows nauseous. Pissed at me for it. His other hand twitches with the memory of Haai’s toothiness, remembering her little yelping growls and barks and the sharp teeth that accompanied them when he wasn’t listening to her pulses of guidance. And I know it was because she cared. We were intwined. But... You know what it was like. He doesn't need to remind her of the searing pain of having one's soul sliced right in two. I can't go through that again.
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.
