i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
Scars, in Korofi, had been a symbol. They were essentially worn as trophies, and Sunjata had been conditioned from a young age that each and every scar that littered his body was part of the story of his life. He’d been offered to get them removed, and while he’d kept nearly all of them for that very same reason, there was only one that had been wiped clean from his slate – the one from his marriage with Phoebe.
Tattoos on the other hand, were very much looked down upon in Korofi. It was one of the first ways the Flood had rebelled against his family and the societal norms of his upbringing, choosing to mark his skin with far more visible adornments. So as she settles into he hot springs and Sunjata follows suit, taking note of the burn scar and not commenting on it just yet (not quite realizing that she might be self conscious of it when Sunjata stood there with scars of practically being flayed alive.
Her question is met with a softer smile, one that has him sitting up a little to show her the first set, which requires turning around so she can see his back and the full extend of the wings that extend down his shoulders and shoulder blades. “The wings were my first tattoo. I got them when I joined the rebellion back home. I thought it a fitting tribute to say I’d gained my wings out from under my father’s watch.” He shrugs lightly, turning back to face her so that the compasses nestled in against his neck point their northern point at Sohalia, a wet hand reaching up to point at each one. “I got these after… Lusea died. My first girlfriend. She was in the rebellion too and I always oriented myself toward her, so the northern spike of the compass I had it so it would always point in front of me.”
The rest though, his hand lowers down toward his chest, to the fiery arrow that takes up a spot on his peck, head tilting down toward it. “I got this one for her too. She was the Fire to my Flood. She’s why I named the bar in the Grounds the VlamVloed. It means fire and flood in Korofi.” Then, his dominant hand, the one with all the lightning scars and absent of tattoos gestures to the sleeve on his arm, of water and stars. “This one was for Safrin, hence the stars. She even finished up my other arm and made the stars within them move.” His tone takes on a little nostalgic hum before he shakes himself out of it. “But when Frey cleansed me of her, the other sleeve departed and so did the magic, and left me with just this reminder.” Which as he stares at it, debates whether or not to get it fixed.
His gaze lifts back to her after a moment with a small lopsided smile. “A better story is how I got all these scars.” An opening in case she wished to ask.
Tattoos on the other hand, were very much looked down upon in Korofi. It was one of the first ways the Flood had rebelled against his family and the societal norms of his upbringing, choosing to mark his skin with far more visible adornments. So as she settles into he hot springs and Sunjata follows suit, taking note of the burn scar and not commenting on it just yet (not quite realizing that she might be self conscious of it when Sunjata stood there with scars of practically being flayed alive.
Her question is met with a softer smile, one that has him sitting up a little to show her the first set, which requires turning around so she can see his back and the full extend of the wings that extend down his shoulders and shoulder blades. “The wings were my first tattoo. I got them when I joined the rebellion back home. I thought it a fitting tribute to say I’d gained my wings out from under my father’s watch.” He shrugs lightly, turning back to face her so that the compasses nestled in against his neck point their northern point at Sohalia, a wet hand reaching up to point at each one. “I got these after… Lusea died. My first girlfriend. She was in the rebellion too and I always oriented myself toward her, so the northern spike of the compass I had it so it would always point in front of me.”
The rest though, his hand lowers down toward his chest, to the fiery arrow that takes up a spot on his peck, head tilting down toward it. “I got this one for her too. She was the Fire to my Flood. She’s why I named the bar in the Grounds the VlamVloed. It means fire and flood in Korofi.” Then, his dominant hand, the one with all the lightning scars and absent of tattoos gestures to the sleeve on his arm, of water and stars. “This one was for Safrin, hence the stars. She even finished up my other arm and made the stars within them move.” His tone takes on a little nostalgic hum before he shakes himself out of it. “But when Frey cleansed me of her, the other sleeve departed and so did the magic, and left me with just this reminder.” Which as he stares at it, debates whether or not to get it fixed.
His gaze lifts back to her after a moment with a small lopsided smile. “A better story is how I got all these scars.” An opening in case she wished to ask.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?
am i a villain or a saint?
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.
